Zombies from around the area she hadn’t killed with her rays were approaching as well. Her barrier would stop them but not forever.
She stopped to sense the location of Bernie and Profit inside.
Darlene couldn’t find them.
The building was packed with zombies but no one with a heartbeat.
The building made a scraping noise as it began to slide sideways off its foundation, the uppermost floor about to collapse.
Darlene could only rush back to the survivors, sweep them up in her invisible hand and rush them to safety.
She got them to safety a block away, placed them quickly back into a circle of protection as a swarm of zombies attacked, and sighed.
The building they’d been in seconds ago crashed to the ground in the spot they’d been standing, dust and debris tossed into the air.
The cloud of smoke plumed like a nuclear strike.
Chapter Fifteen
Bernie knew there was no way she and Profit could make it onto the roof without being pulled down and devoured by the zombies.
They’d made eye contact and nodded, knowing the only defense was a strong offense.
Profit moved to his left, swinging his stick to make some room.
Bernie moved forward with a chair leg, the only weapon she’d been able to find on the floor.
It would need to be enough.
Profit rushed forward, putting his head down and using the wood to push back the zombies. Bernie was at his back, helping to keep him moving forward. She knew what he was attempting.
They’d either push the zombies down the stairs like dominoes and get some breathing room, or they’d be overwhelmed in the hallway and their run would come to an end.
She was exhausted. Every muscle felt weak and cramped. She’d soaked through her clothing, sweating in the infernal heat of Florida. The press of smelly bodies. Her own body odor.
More than once she’d gagged as she rode Profit through the mass of zombies, jabbing zombies with her free hand to keep them at bay and not allow them to get behind her.
One second there was a weight as she tried to help Profit push through and then it was gone.
Profit swung his arms in the air and Bernie managed to grab a handful of his shirt and keep him from following the zombies down the steps.
The zombies slammed into the walls, bodies writhing in a pile halfway down.
Profit regained his balance and smiled at Bernie.
“Now what?” Bernie asked.
“We step on heads and get to the nearest door.” Profit had the piece of wood in his hand and charged down the steps before Bernie could mention what a stupid plan it was.
He began jabbing into the heads of zombies, putting them down forever.
It was six steps to the bottom but it felt like a thousand as Bernie followed. She kicked at the zombies, making sure none of them were still alive in the pile and would grab her leg.
At the bottom, Profit stabbed forward at several zombies, putting them down and kicking them ahead to trip up other zombies.
Bernie thought there were still too many in the building. They’d be overwhelmed.
“This way,” Profit said. He ducked under a zombie and jammed the wood through the rotting torso.
Bernie bent down and pulled a rifle from a pile but the stock was cracked and it was empty of bullets. It would make a decent club for right now, though.
Profit moved to his right, losing the wood as the zombie fell backward and crashed into others of its kind.
Bernie saw what he was aiming for: the side door was open but only a few zombies were on that side, with the bar and the broken pool table acting like a barrier.
Zombies scrambled to get at them.
It was still unnerving they made no sound except the swish of their rotting clothes or the shuffling of feet.
Bernie cracked a woman in the head, the side of it exploding in a sickening stench of rotten brain. She fell to the floor.
Profit jumped onto the bar and began kicking zombies in the face. “Go around the pool table and make sure outside isn’t crowded with them.”
Of course it was going to be. They were surrounded by zombies. Hundreds of zombies. Even if they got outside and felt the sun on their faces, it was all for nothing. At least inside they had a chance to face a few zombies at a time. Out in the open it would be hundreds pressing against them.
Bernie tripped another zombie with the rifle and jumped past groping hands.
Outside the building two zombies came at her. She dispatched both but the crack in the rifle’s stock was more pronounced. She’d need to find another weapon.
The zombies inside were pressed so close together, all trying to get at them, they’d managed to block the path with bodies. It wouldn’t last long but it gave them a short breather.
“What the fuck?” Bernie asked.
Profit was at her side as he exited with a frown. “What the fuck is right.”
A multi-colored streak of light shot past the building and down the street, killing every zombie in its path.
“Let’s go the other way. I’m not going to chance that shit will kill everything it touches,” Profit said. He grabbed Bernie’s hand. “You good?”
“Sure. This is really fun getting attacked by zombies and running for your life. Like a walk in the park.”
The area to their right was free of zombies but there were many in the distance heading their way.
Bernie took charge, yanking Profit by the hand as they began to run.
“What about everyone else?” Profit asked.
“They’re on the roof. They need to be safe until we can get our bearings and maybe return with some real weapons and help.” Bernie knew they might be too late and this was wishful thinking but, when she turned back to the building, she saw the zombies still inside and the horde slowly moving around the building in their direction.
“Then we need to find real weapons and help.” Profit pulled away from Bernie and picked up a split baseball bat from the ground. “Better than nothing.”
“Maybe we can hop the fence and not get shot by the men with guns.” Bernie was racing to get past the next building as the building began to creak behind them.
Profit was pacing with her as they turned into an alley, pushing past a zombie in their way.
They heard the crash and the smoke billowed, forcing them to duck down and cover their faces.
The sound was awful, like someone had detonated a bomb on the next block.
Her ears were ringing.
“Are you alright?” Profit asked, inches from her face.
Bernie dusted off the soot and grit from her face and stood. She went to the end of the alley.
“We need to go back,” Bernie said, trying to see through the smoke.
At first, when figures appeared, she grew hopeful someone had survived.
No one had. It was a group of zombies shambling towards them.
“We need to go. Now,” Profit said. “We’ll swing back and look for survivors.”
“There aren’t any survivors. The building collapsed with them on top. We need to survive ourselves.” Bernie sighed and followed Profit down the street.
She wondered if there was any place safe enough to take a breather.
Chapter Sixteen
Tosha had three bullets left in the gun.
There was someone in the house across the street, watching the boat near the dock.
Too easy. Too convenient.
Even if she had more bullets, running and shooting at the house and getting into the boat and paddling was not reality.
She needed to kill whoever was inside before she was spotted.
From the sound of it, they were either very arrogant or just plain stupid, because they were making a racket.
Tosha decided she could cross the street two houses down but she’d first need to crawl past this house and not get shot.
As if she wasn’t dirty enough.
She st
arted to move, trying to keep her ass down so no one would see it. There were a few zombies in sight but they didn’t seem to notice her and would continue to move in their random patterns and hopefully not cross her path.
It took about twenty minutes to get to the spot she needed to get to before she was sure no one from the house could see her.
She ran across the front yard of the two houses, coming to the side of her target house without incident.
Three bullets.
If there were four or more people, or she missed a shot, she was dead.
Tosha glanced at the canoe near the water. Was it really worth getting shot or killing people over?
The only answer was yes.
She studied the front of the house and the side she could see. Weeds and small trees covered most of the front corner and side of the house, obscuring the lower windows.
Tosha crawled forward to a rusting fence post to get a better view of the front door.
The door was closed.
A wide wooden porch wrapped around the front of the house.
From this point on, if Tosha made a move to the porch and door, she’d have no cover.
The upstairs windows were dark. No glass in the frames. Someone could be a few feet back watching her every move. Waiting for the perfect shot to take her out.
Tosha looked back at the boat, her way to cross the river and help save The Promised Land.
It might be too late but she had to try.
What else did she have if everyone else was dead?
Tosha focused on the house again. There was no way she could crawl across the ground without being seen.
Her only move was to stand and walk without making any sound, which was going to be hard with the overgrown weeds choking the area and who knew what else was hiding in the grass. A full-grown gator could be lurking a few feet away and she’d never know it.
Every step was too loud as dried grass crunched under her feet.
Tosha kept glancing at the upper windows, expecting to see a rifle muzzle a second before she was shot.
Once she got to the porch she felt slightly safer, as the overhang blocked the upper windows from view.
Some of the wooden steps to the porch were rotting. She could see spots where, if she put weight, it might collapse.
Getting her foot stuck in a broken step would alert whoever was inside to the noise and trap her foot maybe long enough for her to die.
Tosha held her breath, grabbed onto the wooden rail that moved a little but held, and went two steps at a time until she got to the porch.
The wood creaked but held and she took long strides to the front door in a straight line.
The front door was closed but she could see the lock had been broken off, pieces scattered on the porch. The front windows were also empty of glass.
To anyone wandering by it would look like every other house on the block. Abandoned and sitting empty.
Before blindly opening the door and either getting blown up by a booby trap or getting shot by someone inside, Tosha looked through the open windows.
She didn’t see anyone inside but that didn’t mean they weren’t hiding behind rotting furniture or in a closet, ready to jump out firing. Someone was definitely inside the house; although, they’d stopped making noise.
Maybe they’d already left through the back door?
There was only one way to find out.
She used the pistol to hook a dry-rot patch on the door and popped it open. It swung freely without a creak and she stopped it before it hit the wall.
Tosha scanned the living room with her weapon out, slowly moving forward to get a better angle. The couch had been moved forward into the center of the room and it looked like someone had sprayed it with dozens of bullets.
Three quick steps past the couch with her breath held, but there was no one crouched behind it.
The hallway leading out of the living room was dark.
Stairs to her right. A closed door to her left, probably to a dining room area.
She decided to sweep the downstairs first. Make sure there wasn’t anyone hiding, waiting to pounce.
She swung the door open to what was a dining room, the table having collapsed. The chairs were missing. Fancy-looking plates had been smashed to the ground and now collected dust. The small back window had been broken out, glass on the floor underneath the windowsill.
It looked like a struggle had ensued in the room. All four walls had bullet holes. Scuff marks on the lower parts of the walls and rips in the carpet.
The open window had also allowed rodents and birds, as well as leaves and seeds, into the room, all taking their turn ripping small pieces of the room apart.
There was a second door at the other end she knew led to a kitchen.
Tosha also knew there wasn’t going to be anything left to salvage but she needed to clear each room before she could feel safe to take the canoe.
She stopped at the door and held her breath again.
There wasn’t a lock on it and the door swung in.
She gripped the handle and pulled, bending down and sideways to make herself a smaller target if the shooting began.
No one shot at her.
Sunlight came through an open back door and through broken windows.
Tosha stepped slowly into the kitchen and saw piles of ammo and weapons. Was she dreaming? Holy shit. She’d hit the jackpot.
Something scraped behind her.
Tosha turned to fire and stopped.
“You still have a great ass,” Mitch said and pointed a rifle in her face with a smile. “Welcome to my new home. Care for lunch or a grenade launcher?”
Chapter Seventeen
Tosha finished the stale crackers and took another swig of warm water.
“I could’ve killed you,” she said to Mitch.
He laughed. “I watched you crawling around on the front yard.”
“Why didn’t you let me know it was you inside?”
He shrugged and ate the last bite of his own crackers. He’d found a few scraps of food the upstairs shooter was hiding upstairs. “I still needed to finish my sweep of the house. I couldn’t call out to you and get shot for it.”
“When you knew it was clear you still let me wander around like an asshole.”
“I wanted to see the look on your face when you saw this stockpile of weapons.” Mitch grinned. “And to get close enough to see your ass.”
“I’m not fucking you.”
“What happens when I’m the last man on earth?”
“You still have your hand and I can find a toy.” Tosha picked up a rifle from the table. “You got dibs on anything yet?”
“I think we need to pick a couple of long and short range weapons each and make sure we have enough ammo for them. The rest we need to hide somewhere in the house. It’ll give us a chance to come back for it later,” Mitch said.
“I’d hate to leave any of this behind. We might not have a choice, though. I say we also take an extra rifle or two for the boat ride across the river. I’m sure we’ll be fired upon as soon as anyone sees us. I’d hate to waste all of the ammo before we’re on the other side.” Tosha slipped two pistols into her back pockets. “I really hope you’re not still staring at my ass.”
“Not even close,” Mitch lied. “In all seriousness, I do know you and I were never meant to be. I’m fine with it. We can help one another and help our friends. We need to work as a team.”
“We did have our fun.” Tosha put a rifle over her shoulder with the strap and went to the ammo on the counter. “I say we load up the boat with weapons, too. Pull it off to the side once we cross. I know a spot. There’s a kid’s park. Swings and shit. We can bury some of it there or find an abandoned house. I’d rather have most of this closer at hand. I have a bad feeling once we go to the other side we won’t ever come back here.”
“I agree. Maybe we take half with us and hide the rest upstairs?”
Tosha shook her head. “The h
ouse could collapse at some point. The backyard should be overgrown enough. Are there blankets or anything in the house we can wrap it in?”
“If not we can go next door.” Mitch went upstairs and found two molding blankets and three bed sheets in a closet. By the time he ran back downstairs, Tosha was already divvying up the weapons into two piles and matching ammo to gun.
“I know we might be wasting time doing this but I think it will help us in the end.” Tosha smiled. “If we don’t worry about tomorrow, it might never come.”
“Can I say something without you taking my head off?” Mitch wanted to speak his mind but knew Tosha well enough to know she didn’t take kindly to anyone shining the spotlight on her problems or weaknesses.
“As long as you help me carry this pile to the yard.”
Mitch lifted one of the bedrolls wrapping a set of rifles and ammo boxes. It was even heavier than it looked.
He followed Tosha to the side of the house, where the weeds had grown so thick you couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead.
She pointed at the spot. “It would be better if we had a shovel to dig a hole but this will do. Let’s both heave them as far in as we can. No one is going to spot them and if they do they’ll think it’s a body or old linen.”
“Eventually the weather will tear the blankets apart and it will be exposed.”
“Eventually we’re all going to die anyway. What did you want to tell me?” Tosha was smiling but Mitch knew better than to think she wouldn’t attack, still with the smile, if she felt like it.
“Just an observation.”
“Uh huh.”
Mitch shrugged, trying to be as casual as he could. He was tense. Why had he opened his big mouth? This was better left unsaid. He tried to come up with something safer to say.
“It’s getting hot and I’m tired. We need to cross the river before we’re spotted. Spit it out so we can go,” Tosha said.
Dying Days [Book 9] Page 6
