by Greg Dragon
“So use a damned tampon and plug the leak. God, woman, do I have to tell you how to do every damn thing? Can’t you think for yourself at all?”
Janet wanted to scream at him, to tell him that of course she couldn’t think for herself. He’d seen to it that her thinking skills were beaten out of her early on in their relationship. Now he wanted her to think?
But she just bit her tongue and went to get her rifle. There wasn’t any point in starting something right there in the middle of the camp. Even with witnesses, she knew Connor would beat her if she got him mad enough. She might end up dead before anyone could stop him.
No, best to stick to her plan and go along with him. She’d keep her eyes open, try not to give him a chance to turn the situation against her. The very real possibility that he had plans to make sure she didn’t make it back to camp make her feel like throwing up. She was frightened, and for the first time in a long time she actually cared what happened to her.
It occurred to Janet, as she and Connor walked away, that she could have refused to go. There was a good chance either George or Micah would shoot Connor like a dog if he tried to hurt her in front of them. As she watched the drug store get closer, her steps slowed. She could do it, she reasoned. Turn around and go back. Catch up to the other two men and beg them to take her with them.
For a moment, it was all she could do not to turn and run back the way they’d come. Her legs twitched with the effort to keep walking ahead, and she stumbled a little.
Connor glanced back at her, a sneer turning his lip up. “Got your panties in a wad over leaving your pretty boy? Well, get over it. He won’t be touching you, ever. You might as well stop mooning over him.”
Janet shook her head. “I wasn’t. I just stubbed my toe a little.” She looked around, wide-eyed. “Let’s get inside and get the stuff on our list, okay? I don’t like being out here in the open like this.”
Connor snorted, but increased his pace. Janet followed along in his footsteps, making sure her expression looked like a frightened doe. If he didn’t think she had anything on her mind but the infected, he might stop worrying about her and Micah for a while.
And it wasn’t like there was anything between her and the biker. She’d made that clear the first day in the camp, when she’d cut him off when he offered to help her with unloading the truck at breakfast. Since then, the man hadn’t done more than nod at her when they chanced to meet. She knew he watched her sometimes, but it wouldn’t go any further than that.
She would make sure of that. At least until she’d worked out a way to get Connor out of her life.
When they reached the door of the drug store, Connor looked through the dusty glass for a long time, watching for infected. After he was satisfied the store was empty, he pulled the door open and sauntered in like it was a normal day to be out shopping.
Connor thrust the list at her, and pushed her towards a line of small shopping carts. He was looking towards the back of the cramped space.
“Here. You take care of getting all this shit, if you can manage to not screw it up. I’m going to look for some cigarettes.”
With that he walked off, soon disappearing into the dimness of the store’s interior. She knew he would probably raid the pharmacy section for stuff to get high on before he looked for any cigarettes, which were behind the counter to her left anyway.
It didn’t matter. Most times Connor high was much easier to deal with than an angry Connor. With a sigh, she began searching for the stuff on the list.
Chapter Sixteen
Janet had gotten most of the items on the list when she heard a commotion coming from the back of the store. She stood gripping the handle of the shopping cart, turning her knuckles bone white while she listened.
Whatever it was, it was quick, and soon the eerie silence fell over the empty store again.
“Connor?” She called out to him as quietly as she could. They hadn’t thought any of the undead were inside, but what if he’d come upon someone while he was rummaging through the drugs in the back?
There was no answer, so she called out again. Still, nothing. Maybe something had happened to Connor, or he was unable to answer her for some reason. Janet peeled her fingers away from the plastic around the cart’s handle. They were cramping from the force with which she’d gripped the narrow cylinder.
Janet stood stock still, shaking the tension from her hands and shoulders. She listened, hoping for any sound that would clue her in to what was going on. Other than her own breathing, which sounded so loud against the general silence of the world these days, there was nothing.
She had a decision to make. She could go looking for George or Micah to come check it out for her, or she could go look herself. Going for the other men meant she’d have to leave the relative safety of the drug store, and face the empty parking lot of the small strip mall they’d stopped at.
She could have called them on the walkie talkie, but Connor had kept that shoved firmly down in his back pocket. But he might have used it himself, if he’d run into any problem on his own.
Going to look herself wasn’t a good idea. If there were infected in the store, she might be facing them alone. She didn’t know if she could handle it by herself.
Janet shifted from one foot to the other, trying to make a decision. She knew what Connor would say, if he could see her struggling to pick something, anything, to do rather than just standing there like a deer facing a hunter’s flashlight.
The scorn would be front and center as he sneered at her. Just like a woman, a fat, stupid cow like herself. Couldn’t chew cud if he didn’t tell her to. Couldn’t decide to stand or run, even if her life depended on it.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Janet’s breath was coming in short, soft snorts, and she’d taken to wringing her hands. The shopping cart was bumping her hip unnoticed as the fidgeted from side to side. She could almost hear the minutes ticking away while she dithered away.
Maybe Connor was right. Maybe she was too stupid to live on her own. She’d believed it for years, went along with everything he told her to do or not do in all aspects of her life.
To hell with it, she finally decided. She’d go look, see if there was trouble. If she was careful, she could turn and run out, find help.
Slowly she stepped away from the shopping cart, dropping the paper with her list on top of the items already inside the small wire form. Janet eased her way down the closest aisle, nearly overwhelmed by the smell of stale candy.
As she neared the end of the aisle, which was bisected by another, broader aisle that ran crosswise to the main aisles, she slowed even more. Without thinking, Janet went down into a crouch, wincing as her knees cracked.
She knew the sound would barely be heard by anyone standing more than a foot or two away, but it might as well been a gunshot. Her heart started pounding, and she had to take a couple of slow, deep breaths to calm down.
The store was still strangely quiet. If Connor had run into something, he’d handled it in record time, and with almost no sound. Something in the back of her mind urged her to turn around and run before it was too late. Janet almost jumped up and did just that, but she realized she had to know what had happened.
She had to know if Connor was still alive, somewhere in the back of the store. If he was, then her problem would have been solved without her doing anything at all.
If he wasn’t, he would come after her with a vengeance for leaving him behind.
Janet took a final deep breath and ducked her head out into the large center aisle long enough to take quick look both ways. When she was nothing, she scooted across into the darker area towards the back of the store.
If this drug store was set up like most others she’d seen then the pharmacy would take up the entire rear section, only feet away from her now. Janet duck-walked the last inches, and once again took a quick look left and right.
Still no sign of Connor, or any other living thing—or un-living thing—any
where. The quiet was beginning to grate on her nerves. She almost wished she could hear something, anything that would clue her in to what she might expect.
Finally, a light scraping sound came from behind the pharmacy counter.
Janet swallowed hard and called out. “Connor? Is that you? Quit messing around and come out here.”
A shadow moved near one of the shelves that held the pharmacy’s drug supply, making Janet jump. It moved towards the place where people would drop off prescriptions to be filled, and part of it leaned towards her.
Slowly, the light revealed Connor’s face. Her heart started thumping at a slightly slower rate.
“What the hell have you been doing back here?” she whispered. “I heard something, and called out, but you never answered me.”
“I heard something in the back, and went to check. The back door was loose, so I was going to close it when I heard something whimpering. You should come look. It’s a little dog, out back behind the mall. If you can get it to come out, you can have it.”
Janet stared at Connor where he leaned against the counter, arms crossed like a bartender talking to a customer. He’d promised to get her a dog before, but never came through. It was a cruel joke he played on her.
She thought about it for a while, until the impatient look came over his face. Maybe he was telling the truth. If a dog really was lost out there, hiding from the infected, she had to try to save it. As far as she knew, animals hadn’t gotten sick, so she didn’t have to worry about that, at least.
Finally, she stood up and started towards Connor, who directed her to the pass-through a few feet from where he now stood upright and stretched.
“Better hurry up, before we get a tardy on our report card. I’ve got all I want from here, so if you’re finished, we can get the dog and get the hell out of this dump.”
Janet followed as he turned to go. “I have all I could find. It’s in a cart up front, ready to load up.”
Connor just nodded and swung open the back door.
“This way to doggie heaven.”
* * *
Janet could hear the whimper as soon as she got outside, stepping carefully into the narrow alley. She also heard the weird moaning and crowing sounds the infected made through their ravaged throats. She stopped dead in her tracks, a few feet from the door, which Connor had propped open with a brick.
“Well, come on. That dog’s not going to wait forever.”
Reluctantly, Janet moved forward, Conner a step behind. She went to where the cries of the dog were coming from, a dumpster pushed out into the alley. Squatting down, she looked into the darkness beneath the stinking trash container. A pair of frightened eyes looked back at her, and her heart melted. It was just a little thing, a mess of tangled fur so dirty she couldn’t tell what color it was.
Connor leaned against the dumpster, shifting it a foot or so. The little dog scampered back, and Connor cursed. “Damn dog. Hold still. We’re just trying to help.”
Something in the way Connor said it made Janet’s hackles rise. A chill swept over her, and she scuttled around on her heels so she could look up into his face. For a brief instant, his expression was so evil she thought her heart would stop. It gave a hard beat against her ribs, and she feared she would choke on the sudden pressure.
“If you want that dog, you better get it now. I think there’s some company about to arrive, and we need to get going.”
It would have sounded entirely reasonable, if it had been someone else saying it, and if he hadn’t grinned at her. His face looked like a cartoon image of a mad man and Janet realized she was finally seeing his true face.
All these years, and she’d thought she had seen all the badness inside of him. She hadn’t had a clue.
Janet jumped to her feet, the dog forgotten. She took a step, trying to start running from a dead stop, but Connor was quicker. He grabbed her arm and jerked her back, trying to shove the dumpster a little further from the wall. Her rifle, forgotten until it fell from her shoulder, nearly tripped her up as she struggled to get free.
She pulled her arm from his grasp just as he got a foot or so of open space along the back wall of the drug store. She could hear the infected louder now. They were coming closer, their empty faces turned towards them, seeking out a living victim to ravage. At her feet, the dog growled.
Janet began to move away from the dumpster, her eyes focused on the half-open pharmacy door. If she could get inside, she might be safe. Connor was on her heels, though, and she knew she wasn’t going to make it. It was too far.
As he reached for her arm again, Janet threw her shoulder, and he missed. The next time he reached for her, he got hold of her ear, and yanked it cruelly, making her cry out.
“Don’t fight it, bitch. If you’ll just hold still, I might give you a mercy shot before I go crying to good old George.”
Janet moaned as her head was pulled back painfully. She tried to turn around, take the pressure off her abused ear, but something was tripping her up, nearly bringing her down. She knew if she fell, all was lost.
She had reached the door, but their struggles had knocked the brick away. Janet nearly screamed out her frustration as the door closed before she could grab it. All that was left was to somehow get free of Connor and make a run for it to the end of the mall. Out in the open there, she might have a chance.
The infected were getting louder, and had gotten far too close. Janet kept pulling away from Connor, forcing him to move with her. She ignored the pain in her ear, and the tug of hair he was pulling out by the roots. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as what she imagined the infected would do to her.
With a great shrug, Janet nearly broke Connor’s hold. She ducked her head, trying to get into a position he couldn’t maintain a grip, and finally realized her rifle was hanging by its strap around her elbow. She couldn’t get it up so she could shoot the sorry bastard that was determined to kill her, so she did the only thing she could do.
Janet dropped her arm and let the rifle’s sling slip further down her arm. She grabbed the stock and flipped it back towards Connor. By some miracle, the barrel hit him just as he made a huge stride, trying to make up the small distance she’d gotten ahead.
The rifle barrel went between Connor’s legs, and he tripped. He jerked so hard on her ear that Janet was sure he’d ripped it off. Then the painful grip was gone, Connor was down, and Janet turned and began to run towards the distant open space.
She looked back once when she heard an eerie screech of pure fear and pain. The infected had caught up to Connor, and were falling to their knees beside him, reaching for him with eager hands. Strips of flesh had already been torn from his cheeks, which only made the grin as he held up the truck’s keys that much more hateful.
Janet just shook her head and turned away. The last image of him she had was of him going down in a mass of heaving bodies. A spray of blood shot out of his throat, and finally the screaming stopped.
She’d never run so fast in her life. Janet’s feet hit the rough pavement of the alley with loud steady slaps as she focused on getting to the edge of the mall before the infected decided there wasn’t enough of Connor left, and came after her.
There was safety on the other side of the building, if she could just get to it. She took a deep breath and ran faster.
It wasn’t until she’d gotten back to the truck, with Micah and George rushing up to meet her, that she looked down and realized the little dog had been running by her side all along.
THE END
About the Author:
Griffin Carmichael writes speculative fiction from an undisclosed location somewhere in the South Eastern United States. Various children animals and varieties of plant life run rampant everywhere.
Previously published work includes two short story collections, Zombie Town and Daily Life. Griffin has had stories published in two charity anthologies, as well as in Stories on the Go I and II. More short stories and longer tales are in the works.
THE MOON DWELLERS
Book One
of
The Dwellers Saga
by
David Estes
For Adele. Just for being you.
Prologue
Adele
7 months ago
Hands grope, men shout, boots slap the rock floor.
Clay dishes and pots are smashed to bits as the Enforcers sweep recklessly through our house. There are more bodies in the tiny stone box that I call home than ever before. The walls seem to be closing in.
My mother’s face is stricken with anger, her lips twisted, her eyebrows dark. I’ve never seen her fight like this. I’ve never seen her fight at all.
It takes three bulging Enforcers to subdue her kicking legs, her thrashing arms. For just a moment I am scared of her and not the men. I hate myself for it.
I realize my sister is by my side, watching, like me. I can’t let her see this—can’t let this be her last memory of the ones who raised us. I usher her back into the small room that we share with my parents, and close the door, shutting her inside alone.
When I turn back to the room, my mother is already gone, taken. Undigested beans from our measly supper rise in my throat.
My father is next.
The Enforcers jeer at him, taunt him, spit on him. As he backs his shoulders against the cold, stark, stone wall, five men corner him. Smart. They don’t underestimate him.
He makes eye contact with me; his emerald-green eyes are hard with concentration. Despite the inherent tension in the room, his face is relaxed, calm, the exact opposite of his eyes. Run, he mouths.
