Dying Days: Death Sentence

by Brent Abell

  After clearing the vehicles, George went to the door and peered inside the shattered glass. Parts around the edges were smooth and shiny where the fire must have burned the hottest. Nora waited behind the pumps and covered George in case something surprised him in the store. He stepped through the opening in the door and scanned the mart. The shelves were bare and the building still reeked of fire and rot. A few charred skeletons were on the floor where they had caught fire and fell. The building was silent. He didn’t hear anything moving. He hit his gun on the door frame and banged it a few times. Listening intently, he still didn’t hear anything.

  George stepped back outside and motioned to Nora. “We’re good.”

  Nora popped out from around the back of the pumps and lowered her gun. “Look promising?”

  “If by promising, you mean I didn’t see any dead people walking around, then yeah, we’re good.”

  “We can still stay here for the night,” Nora said. She looked up at the sky and knew they only had a few minutes left before the sun fully set.

  “I want to finish sweeping the whole building in the next few minutes. I’d rather not do it in the dark,” George said.

  Nora approached the store and stuck her head in through the large window that was no longer there. “God, it smells like a fireplace.”

  “Let’s get this over with; I’d rather not have our flashlights on in the dark.”

  “I’ll look around the coolers if you want to take the counter and the fountain drink station,” Nora offered.

  “I call dibs if you find any Mt. Dew,” George joked.

  “Bull shit!” Nora responded loudly.

  Both stopped and waited. When nothing crawled from the back or came stumbling out of a bathroom, they relaxed and laughed together.

  “If you call the Dew, I call any beef jerky,” Nora retorted.

  “Okay, maybe we’ll have to settle for sharing whatever we find,” George reasoned.

  The two separated and began to thoroughly examine the shelves and coolers.

  George went behind the counter and began to dig around in the remains that were scattered about. The lottery ticket displays had been knocked over and their contents pulled out. George wanted to laugh at the absurdity of humans. Dead people are eating the living and the only thing some people could think of was to go and raid the nearest convenience store for lottery tickets. Staring at the mess, he wondered if they truly believed the state would pay up if they walked into the lottery office. His stomach rumbled and it brought him out of his thinking. A few empty candy bar boxes were on the floor, but he didn’t see anything else of use or value, except a few lighters which he pocketed. A pack of cigars was on the floor next to the remains of who he assumed was the register jockey on duty when the store had become a war zone. Bending over, he picked them up and put them in his pocket too. Fuck cancer; he was dying anyway and, even though the cigars were cheap, he’d gladly smoke them guilt-free.

  “You find anything?” George called across the store.

  Nora closed the cooler unit she was searching and shook her head. “I haven’t found shit.”

  “I wonder if the back storeroom was hit,” George thought aloud.

  “Well, let’s check.”

  Nora waited for George to reach her and for him to take point before they went to the door next to the bathrooms which read, ‘Employees Only’. George tried the door and it didn’t move. He jiggled it again and he realized it was locked.

  “This is promising,” George said.

  “Promising?” Nora huffed.

  George smiled, “If it’s locked, it may still be stocked.”

  Nora laughed with giddy excitement. When George couldn’t open the door, she immediately thought they were screwed. In her current frame of mind, it had never occurred to her being locked meant they might be saved.

  George brought his booted foot up and kicked the knob. The brass knob gave, but didn’t budge. He kicked it over and over until the knob broke and the door frame splintered. He threw his shoulder into it trying to open it, but it still remained closed.

  “Help me,” George said.

  Nora stood next to George and, together, they rammed the door with their bodies and the door broke free. It swung inward and they found themselves in the storeroom. Shelves lined two walls and they were lightly stocked with chips, candy, and warm sodas. Nora fell to her knees like she was having a religious experience and George stood in the doorway with his mouth agape in shock.

  “Holy fucking shit,” he muttered.

  “I say we stay here tonight,” Nora added.

  “I’ll agree with that and I hope we can find some warm beer,” George said and began to examine the wealth of boxes and packages on the shelving units.

  Both rummaged through the bagged chips and badly melted and malformed candy bars. Before she really started digging around, Nora slammed down two bottled waters and opened a sports drink. George slowly drank one of the waters so, if he did find a beer, his belly wouldn’t feel bloated. He moved a few of the soda syrup boxes for the fountain drink dispenser and he yelped. His heart stuck in his throat and he felt faint. Behind the syrup boxes sat two six packs of Bud Light.

  He grabbed them both and held them high like a conquering hero. His smile beamed and lit up the darkening storeroom. Nora laughed and opened a bag of pretzels. Before George could sit and join her, she began to shovel them in her mouth by the handful. George plopped down next to her and pulled one of the brown bottles carefully from the carton. He held it like a mother would cradle a newborn child. Gently, he twisted off the cap and the foam rushed to the top and spilled over the neck. The warm suds covered his hands and he grinned.

  “I should be laughing at you,” Nora joked.

  “I never thought I’d get the chance to have a beer explode on me again,” George laughed.

  He placed the bottle to his lips and downed it. Nora watched in fascination wondering if he’d ever come up for air. Instead he gulped until the bottle was empty. He put the bottle down and grinned until the belch tore loose from his chest. It echoed in the small storeroom and he blew out a breath.

  “Fuck, that stinks,” he said.

  Nora didn’t hear him admire his burp because she had rolled to her side and giggled hysterically. She laughed so hard pretzel remnants spewed from between her lips and dusted the floor in front of her. George saw this and laughed harder, drawing more burps from his core. Soon, both were panting and, for a moment, had forgotten about the world outside.

  “I never thought I’d let another human in,” George said opening another beer.

  “I didn’t think I’d trust another man again,” Nora countered.

  George nodded. “Rough time out there?”

  “Did you ever hear about how, in the early days of the infection, the zombies had tried to sexually assault people too?” Her voice became low. The jubilation they shared shattered into a million pieces. George sat and stared at her; he figured he knew where it was going to go and he really wasn’t sure if he wanted to go along for the ride.

  “I never really caught most of that. I’d hear whispers, but I chalked it up to rumor and wild imaginations.”

  “It’s true,” Nora replied. She sounded lost and hollow.

  “You don’t have to do this,” George said.

  Nora scooted across the floor and put her head on his shoulder. He felt the warm tears through his shirt and put his arm around her. It was the only comfort he could offer her and he hoped it would get her through. She’d lasted this long and he thought she was tough as nails. He’d seen men cry in the desert under less stress. The water works on some of them really got going when the bullets started flying.

  Nora lifted her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She tried to smile, but George could tell she faked it. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.”

  “There are a lot of things I thought I’d never get over, but I don’t have shit on you.”

  “I didn’t know
Marty, my boyfriend, was one until he tried to…to…,” Nora began before sobbing.

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here with you now,” George comforted her.

  “He tried to rip off my skirt and I screamed. A friend of his rushed in and grabbed Marty by the arm. Marty turned and bit his cheek. Ray tried to fight, but Marty dragged him to the floor and began to tear at his throat. The blood…,” Nora’s voice trailed off.

  George held her and let her cry. After a few minutes, her breathing leveled off and he heard her snore softly. He figured exhaustion had finally overtaken her and he gently moved her head onto his thigh so he could move his arms. The six-pack was still within reach and he figured it was a hell of a night to polish it off.

  Here I go again, George thought as he fell asleep before he finished the next beer.

  ***

  Something crashed to the floor and startled George from his deep slumber. Nora had rolled off him in the middle of the night and had sprawled out in the middle of the storeroom’s floor. She rolled over and muttered something he couldn’t make out and fell silent. Out in the store, he heard something again.

  George stood up and immediately regretted it. His joints groaned and his knees burned from age and usage. The clacking of something echoed off the tile floor and a loud snort followed. Reaching for his gun, he saw Nora begin to stir. She lifted her head and yawned. George placed his finger to his lips and she fell silent. He pointed out to the store front and nodded. Nora rolled over and slowly got to her feet. She took a step and her foot came down on one of George’s empty beer bottles. The glass bottle rolled and hit a shelf. Nora winced and she could feel George glaring up at her. Both of them held their breaths and waited. Outside, the store grew quiet again.

  Nora carefully looked out the storeroom door and didn’t see a zombie shuffling around the store. Everything remained quiet until she heard the clacking again. To her ears, it sounded like an animal had entered on the hunt for food too. Something in the store snorted and sneezed. It sounded fragile and weak. Nora motioned for George to stay back, but he was already on his feet and creeping toward the door.

  “I think we’re safe,” Nora said.

  “What makes you say that?” George whispered.

  “Whatever it is sounds small.”

  Nora stepped out of the storeroom and held her gun at the ready. She gave the store a quick sweep with her eyes and lowered the gun to the ground. The sounds began again and they approached them from behind the potato chip aisle. The shelves had long since been looted and were bare. She took a step toward it and froze. The sound grew closer and closer.

  Don’t let it be a rabid raccoon or something, she prayed.

  The noise stopped and she heard panting. Something hit the floor and Nora swung around the corner to see a pug laying on the floor looking back at her. Its fawn colored fur was matted and filthy, but it gazed up at her with its wide eyes and stood up. It hurried over to her leg and rubbed its head against her. A smile crossed her lips and she reached down to pet it. The dog let her pet its head and closed its eyes in relief.

  “You are a lucky boy to still be out here,” Nora told the pug.

  George exited the storeroom and laughed at the dog at Nora’s side. “I never thought of a pug as a survivor.”

  The pug looked up to George and snorted its indignation at the comment.

  “Aren’t you an opinionated little thing,” George said. He knelt down and ran his hands up and down the dog’s back. “You’re a little on the skinny side too.”

  Nora pulled out some jerky she’d squirreled away in her pocket and held it out for the famished dog. It sniffed around her hand and then licked the jerky. At first she didn’t think he would take it and then he snatched it from her open hand and gulped it down. The pug enthusiastically licked its lips and panted heavily for more.

  “Now, let’s see what we have here,” Nora said and reached for its collar. “Frank.”

  “I guess our new friend is a boy,” George laughed.

  The pug coughed and plopped back down. He put his head back on the cool tiles and closed his eyes. George watched Frank’s body move with every breath and he sat down on the floor next to him. Nora joined them and she rested her head on her knees.

  “We can’t leave him,” Nora stated.

  “No, if he’s survived this long, we owe it to him to let him travel with us,” George replied.

  “You’re a big softy, George,” Nora said picking up the dog. Frank looked up at her and licked her cheek.

  “I guess we have no choice now; he likes you too much,” George laughed.

  Frank snorted and sneezed. A deep cough followed and George could hear the wheezing in his breath. He shook his head and sighed; the dog may be as sick as he was.

  Everybody walking around is either dead or dying, his mind joked. He found it mildly amusing and a smile broke across his face. Nora looked at him and smiled back, wrongly thinking the smile was aimed at her and Frank. Having another mouth to feed didn’t make him feel like they were in a good place supply-wise. But, he had to admit the pug was another wayward traveler and needed somebody to tag along with.

  “We need to hit the road,” George said and began to head back to the storeroom.

  Nora put Frank back down on the floor and he followed them in the back, where they packed what they could. George poured Frank some water on the floor and the pug lapped it up, making sure he got every drop from the tiles. When everything was in their packs and on their backs, they left the gas station hoping to find shelter by the time the sun set.

  When they got back on the interstate, they didn’t see the two other figures lurking off the side of the highway, following them through the groves of pines.

  6

  “We’re being followed,” George stated. He kept his head facing north and didn’t look to the side of the road where the movement had caught his eye.

  “What?” Nora asked and began to look over to the left.

  “Don’t look; face forward. Don’t let them think we know they’re out there.”

  Nora turned back to the north and looked down at Frank, making sure he was keeping pace. The pug trotted behind and his tongue wagged in thirst. “Should we stop for a rest?”

  “Well, they haven’t come any closer over the past few days since we left the gas station, so I think we should be okay to stop for a few minutes,” George said.

  The trio stopped next to an abandoned Civic and set their packs on the hood. Frank strutted up and took a spot under the car in the shade. Nora poured him some water on the asphalt and he slurped it up before it had a chance to evaporate in the heat. George took a pack of cheese crackers out and began to snack on them while Nora tore into a bag of chips.

  “They still there,” Nora asked.

  “Yeah, I think they stopped when we did. I can’t get what they’re playing at. If they wanted to overtake us, they easily could’ve the last two nights when we stopped. Hell, they could rush us now if they wanted.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better about them,” Nora huffed.

  Frank snorted and rolled over on his back. Nora looked down at him and knelt down to rub his belly. Frank’s legs kicked and he let out what could only be described as a dog’s version of a purr.

  “What the hell was that?” George asked.

  “Frank thinks he’s a cat,” Nora said and stood back up. She hated not being on guard if the people George kept talking about decided to step out of the shadows.

  “I hope he can be a guard dog,” George quipped and threw his pack on his back. Nora followed suit and they began to hike off. Frank slowly got up and followed the other two.

  ***

  The sun sank below the tree line and George spied a minivan a couple hundred feet from where they stood. He didn’t like their options and the side of the road gave them nowhere to take shelter for the night. He motioned for Nora and Frank to stop. Nora nodded to him and he approached the van.

  Shadows
danced around the highway and George felt anxious. He hadn’t seen a zombie since they had escaped Orlando and it made him nervous. Yes, they were heading south, but he found it hard to believe they’d all been cleared out. There had to be stragglers, he reasoned, and a van was a good place for one of them to be.

  Raising his gun, he slowly circled around the back of the minivan. Once he reached the back, he tapped the gun’s barrel against the glass and ducked down below the window line. Inside, the van remained silent. George rose up and went to the side door. The door stood open and the interior had been shredded. Dark circles stained the tan cloth seats and flies buzzed around small bits of something on the floor. A smeared handprint adorned the opposite window and it looked like a child’s. He thought back to the house where he and Harry had pillaged the bikes and how the family had eaten the little girl.

  He wondered if this family ate their young too.

  George looked back and gave Nora a thumb up. She began to walk toward him, with Frank running behind her. The pug was exhausted and George felt sorry for him. His little legs could only carry him so far and, every so often, he and Nora took turns carrying him a while.

  Nora peeked in the minivan and wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t smell bad, but, damn, something died in here, didn’t it?”

  Frank snorted his approval and jumped up in the open door. He made his way around the van, sniffing the matted carpet. He ran across a few pieces of cereal between the middle two seats and quickly swallowed them up. Wheezing again, he sat his butt down and licked every crumb he could from his mouth and nose.

  “He didn’t lick the blood stains, did he?” Nora asked.

  “No, he didn’t. Would you think less of him if he did?”

  “No, he’s too cute,” Nora said and petted Frank’s head.