Stephen Drivick's Blog - Posts Tagged "zombie-apocalypse"
Sample Saturday #2
A sample from Sometimes We Ran, Chapter 20: The Accident
We rounded a slight curve in the road and came upon an intersection. I squinted my eyes in the darkness and saw several buildings arranged near the road. I almost jumped for joy as I spotted a possible safe place. I felt like I had been reunited with an old friend.
It was a gas station with an attached food store.
It was a few hundred yards away, and looked like excellent cover. I decided to make a run for it. I picked up Claire and carried her as I ran for the front door. With my bruised ribs and hurt knee, it felt like I ran a mile. The parking lot was full of wrecked cars and decaying bodies, but the building looked intact. The door was partially open. With my arms full of Claire, I kicked it open. I had to turn sideways in the doorway to get inside. The inside was wrecked, as usual. I took a quick look, but found nobody inside. I cleared a spot, and laid Claire on the floor. She had gone really pale, and had passed out. She was definitely going into shock.
I heard a noise at the door. I quickly turned around, and drew my shotgun at the same time. A young Red-Eye stood in the doorway. It seemed that I had forgotten to close the door.
He stood there watching me for a moment. He cocked his head from side to side perhaps sizing me up. The worst part was his eyes. They were twin glowing red orbs in his skull, that seemed to pierce right through me. He let out a low growl, and leaped at me. It wasn't very good. Outside the store, it would have been a graceful jump, and he would have killed me where I stood. Inside the store, though, it was a clumsy, staggering fall through debris and glass. I pulled the trigger and fired at the attacking zombie. The shotgun blast caught him in the shoulder. He stumbled, recovered, and then reached for me. I stepped back to avoid his reach, and jammed the butt of the shotgun into the creature's skull. He fell backwards on the floor, and I shot him again. The shot grazed the side of his head. The Red-Eye screeched, and started flopping around in the doorway of the gas station. I stood over him, and blew his brains out with another shell. The Red-Eye went silent.
Adrenaline coursing through me, I stood over the broken body of the zombie. I heard a sound outside, and glanced out the open door. Two more Red-Eyes stood near the dead gas pumps.
They were staring at me as I stood over their dead companion.
Suddenly, a feeling of rage washed over me. I had reached my breaking point, and the time for fear and running was over. I stowed my shotgun, and dragged the dead Red-Eye into the parking lot. I then stood up, drew my shotgun, and pointed it at the two zombies in the parking lot. They started at me in confusion.
I screwed up my courage. “Look at your buddy, you ugly bastards. I blew his brains out. If you want to eat me and my friend, you're going to have to go through me. You got it?”
They stood silently for a minute staring at me and my shotgun. After a little calculation, they began to make their move. I aimed my shotgun at their heads. “I'm not bluffing. One or both of you are about to die.”
The zombies got the message, and with a series of clicking noises and growls, they retreated. They paused for a minute when they got to the road, and glanced back. It almost looked like they were trying to remember me for future encounters. After a few seconds of heavy glancing, they took off into the woods.
I stood there for a second, my shotgun ready. It seems the Red-Eyes had achieved some sort of intelligence. They recognized me as a threat, and had retreated to fight another day. I had no doubt that they would keep watching, and waiting for a chance to strike. After all, you can't pass up a good meal, even if you're a zombie.
I stowed my shotgun, and ran inside. I slammed the door and locked us in. I piled a few things in the doorway for a little added security. I took a quick look through the door glass at the parking lot. Nothing was moving. The Red-Eyes were going to leave us alone for now.
I turned my attention to Claire. She was starting to come to, and attempting to get to a sitting position. I ran to her side. “Don't move. You're hurt.” She lay down on the hard floor without protest.
I took off my backpack, and took out our first aid kit. I tended to her cuts and abrasions as best I could with my limited supplies. She winced in pain whenever I dabbed a cut with antibiotic ointment. Some of the cuts were pretty deep. I began to wonder if Claire was going to be all right.
During my attempts at first aid, Claire reached up and touched my face. “John, you're bleeding. Were we in some kind of accident?”
I looked into her crystal blue eyes. “Yes, Claire. I crashed the scooter, remember?” I may have to add a concussion to her list of aliments.
“Oh, yeah. I remember,” she said weakly. “Guess that's why I'm lying on the floor, huh?”
I tried to laugh, but was unsuccessful. “I'm sorry. I wish it was me who was on the floor.”
Claire touched my hand. “It's okay. I'll be okay.” A weak smile crossed her lips.
And that's when I noticed the bite on her wrist.
It was about two inches long, on the top of her wrist near her hand. It looked like tiny red lines spaced close together in a circular pattern. I moved her sleeve slightly down her arm, and turned her wrist over. The tiny red lines continued underneath her arm as well. It was a dog bite. It was hard to tell in the darkness of the store if it had penetrated her skin. Claire wasn't showing any zombie symptoms yet. Maybe the dog bites took longer. I felt very weak and dizzy.
I started to tremble as I held Claire's wrist. I couldn't believe what I saw. After all we'd been through, after all the precautions, one of us gets bit by a damn dog. It should be me. Why didn't it bite me? Claire didn't deserve this.
She must have seen the concern on my face. “What's the matter, Tiger?” she asked in a weak voice. Without uttering a word, I showed Claire her wrist. She glanced at it for a second, and a terrible look crossed her face. “Great,” she said. “Just great.”
I looked away so she couldn't see the tears welling up in my eyes. “Claire, I'm sorry,” I said, choking up.
She lay there for a few minutes, then she grabbed my arm. “John, look at me.” I reluctantly looked her in the eyes. “It's okay. I think we both knew our luck would run out eventually. I think we had a good run. We tried. We really tried. Now you have to be strong.”
Unfortunately, I knew what I had to do. “I'm sorry. I didn't want this for you. It should be me.” I was holding both her hands now, and tears were running down my cheeks.
Claire tried to smile, but she was crying as well. “Shh ...Don't talk like that. You know what you have to do. Don't let me be one of those things for more than a few seconds, okay?”
I nodded. “I ...I don't think I can do it.” The thought of shooting her made me sick to my stomach.
Claire painfully picked her head up to look me in the eyes. “You promised, remember? Back when we first met. You promised to take care of me. Please don't let me become one of those things.”
I nodded weakly. “I remember. You don't have to worry. I'll take care of you.”
Claire laid her head back down on the floor. “Thank you, Tiger.” She paused for a minute, then said, “You've been a really good friend. You and I have become sort of a family, you know.” She started squeezing my hands till they were almost breaking. “I'm really glad we found each other. It was fun.” Claire paused to touch my face. “I love you, John,” she said through her tears. She lay back and closed her eyes. “Okay. I'm ready. Just make it quick”
I looked down at her for a moment. There was nothing I could do or say to ease her pain. Once you're bitten, it's all over. I could only do what she wanted, and not let her join the other undead. I brushed aside some pink-highlighted auburn hair, and kissed her on the forehead.
I drew my gun, and sat down beside her in the dark store. I sat beside her and waited.
I waited for Claire to turn.
Thanks for stopping by!
***********************
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We rounded a slight curve in the road and came upon an intersection. I squinted my eyes in the darkness and saw several buildings arranged near the road. I almost jumped for joy as I spotted a possible safe place. I felt like I had been reunited with an old friend.
It was a gas station with an attached food store.
It was a few hundred yards away, and looked like excellent cover. I decided to make a run for it. I picked up Claire and carried her as I ran for the front door. With my bruised ribs and hurt knee, it felt like I ran a mile. The parking lot was full of wrecked cars and decaying bodies, but the building looked intact. The door was partially open. With my arms full of Claire, I kicked it open. I had to turn sideways in the doorway to get inside. The inside was wrecked, as usual. I took a quick look, but found nobody inside. I cleared a spot, and laid Claire on the floor. She had gone really pale, and had passed out. She was definitely going into shock.
I heard a noise at the door. I quickly turned around, and drew my shotgun at the same time. A young Red-Eye stood in the doorway. It seemed that I had forgotten to close the door.
He stood there watching me for a moment. He cocked his head from side to side perhaps sizing me up. The worst part was his eyes. They were twin glowing red orbs in his skull, that seemed to pierce right through me. He let out a low growl, and leaped at me. It wasn't very good. Outside the store, it would have been a graceful jump, and he would have killed me where I stood. Inside the store, though, it was a clumsy, staggering fall through debris and glass. I pulled the trigger and fired at the attacking zombie. The shotgun blast caught him in the shoulder. He stumbled, recovered, and then reached for me. I stepped back to avoid his reach, and jammed the butt of the shotgun into the creature's skull. He fell backwards on the floor, and I shot him again. The shot grazed the side of his head. The Red-Eye screeched, and started flopping around in the doorway of the gas station. I stood over him, and blew his brains out with another shell. The Red-Eye went silent.
Adrenaline coursing through me, I stood over the broken body of the zombie. I heard a sound outside, and glanced out the open door. Two more Red-Eyes stood near the dead gas pumps.
They were staring at me as I stood over their dead companion.
Suddenly, a feeling of rage washed over me. I had reached my breaking point, and the time for fear and running was over. I stowed my shotgun, and dragged the dead Red-Eye into the parking lot. I then stood up, drew my shotgun, and pointed it at the two zombies in the parking lot. They started at me in confusion.
I screwed up my courage. “Look at your buddy, you ugly bastards. I blew his brains out. If you want to eat me and my friend, you're going to have to go through me. You got it?”
They stood silently for a minute staring at me and my shotgun. After a little calculation, they began to make their move. I aimed my shotgun at their heads. “I'm not bluffing. One or both of you are about to die.”
The zombies got the message, and with a series of clicking noises and growls, they retreated. They paused for a minute when they got to the road, and glanced back. It almost looked like they were trying to remember me for future encounters. After a few seconds of heavy glancing, they took off into the woods.
I stood there for a second, my shotgun ready. It seems the Red-Eyes had achieved some sort of intelligence. They recognized me as a threat, and had retreated to fight another day. I had no doubt that they would keep watching, and waiting for a chance to strike. After all, you can't pass up a good meal, even if you're a zombie.
I stowed my shotgun, and ran inside. I slammed the door and locked us in. I piled a few things in the doorway for a little added security. I took a quick look through the door glass at the parking lot. Nothing was moving. The Red-Eyes were going to leave us alone for now.
I turned my attention to Claire. She was starting to come to, and attempting to get to a sitting position. I ran to her side. “Don't move. You're hurt.” She lay down on the hard floor without protest.
I took off my backpack, and took out our first aid kit. I tended to her cuts and abrasions as best I could with my limited supplies. She winced in pain whenever I dabbed a cut with antibiotic ointment. Some of the cuts were pretty deep. I began to wonder if Claire was going to be all right.
During my attempts at first aid, Claire reached up and touched my face. “John, you're bleeding. Were we in some kind of accident?”
I looked into her crystal blue eyes. “Yes, Claire. I crashed the scooter, remember?” I may have to add a concussion to her list of aliments.
“Oh, yeah. I remember,” she said weakly. “Guess that's why I'm lying on the floor, huh?”
I tried to laugh, but was unsuccessful. “I'm sorry. I wish it was me who was on the floor.”
Claire touched my hand. “It's okay. I'll be okay.” A weak smile crossed her lips.
And that's when I noticed the bite on her wrist.
It was about two inches long, on the top of her wrist near her hand. It looked like tiny red lines spaced close together in a circular pattern. I moved her sleeve slightly down her arm, and turned her wrist over. The tiny red lines continued underneath her arm as well. It was a dog bite. It was hard to tell in the darkness of the store if it had penetrated her skin. Claire wasn't showing any zombie symptoms yet. Maybe the dog bites took longer. I felt very weak and dizzy.
I started to tremble as I held Claire's wrist. I couldn't believe what I saw. After all we'd been through, after all the precautions, one of us gets bit by a damn dog. It should be me. Why didn't it bite me? Claire didn't deserve this.
She must have seen the concern on my face. “What's the matter, Tiger?” she asked in a weak voice. Without uttering a word, I showed Claire her wrist. She glanced at it for a second, and a terrible look crossed her face. “Great,” she said. “Just great.”
I looked away so she couldn't see the tears welling up in my eyes. “Claire, I'm sorry,” I said, choking up.
She lay there for a few minutes, then she grabbed my arm. “John, look at me.” I reluctantly looked her in the eyes. “It's okay. I think we both knew our luck would run out eventually. I think we had a good run. We tried. We really tried. Now you have to be strong.”
Unfortunately, I knew what I had to do. “I'm sorry. I didn't want this for you. It should be me.” I was holding both her hands now, and tears were running down my cheeks.
Claire tried to smile, but she was crying as well. “Shh ...Don't talk like that. You know what you have to do. Don't let me be one of those things for more than a few seconds, okay?”
I nodded. “I ...I don't think I can do it.” The thought of shooting her made me sick to my stomach.
Claire painfully picked her head up to look me in the eyes. “You promised, remember? Back when we first met. You promised to take care of me. Please don't let me become one of those things.”
I nodded weakly. “I remember. You don't have to worry. I'll take care of you.”
Claire laid her head back down on the floor. “Thank you, Tiger.” She paused for a minute, then said, “You've been a really good friend. You and I have become sort of a family, you know.” She started squeezing my hands till they were almost breaking. “I'm really glad we found each other. It was fun.” Claire paused to touch my face. “I love you, John,” she said through her tears. She lay back and closed her eyes. “Okay. I'm ready. Just make it quick”
I looked down at her for a moment. There was nothing I could do or say to ease her pain. Once you're bitten, it's all over. I could only do what she wanted, and not let her join the other undead. I brushed aside some pink-highlighted auburn hair, and kissed her on the forehead.
I drew my gun, and sat down beside her in the dark store. I sat beside her and waited.
I waited for Claire to turn.
Thanks for stopping by!
***********************
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CZLEYZE
CreateSpace (Paperback)https://www.createspace.com/4307201
DriveThruFiction: http://www.drivethrufiction.com/produ...
NOOK: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/somet...
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/eboo...
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Libiro: http://www.libiro.com/index.php?route...
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id65...
Scribd: http://www.scribd.com/book/230611071/...
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Sample Saturday #3
A sample from Sometimes We Ran, Chapter 20, "The Accident."
We rode for a while stopping in a few places to find supplies. The wrecked stores and gas stations we stopped at were very empty and picked over. We managed a few bottles of water and maybe a couple packages of crackers. Claire found a few cases of cat and dog food left over in a pet store, but we weren't that desperate yet. We still had about a week or two of food and water between us, so it wasn't time to panic.
As we rode, the weather turned downright nasty. The steady drizzle that had persisted throughout the day turned into a cold rain. After a few miles, Claire and I were cold, wet, and miserable. I had just started to look for a dry place to rest, when I spotted a sign on the side of the road. It was one of those light up signs with the black letters that you could change. As I got closer, I could make out the words “Bob's Biker Bar-1 mi. on right.” I pulled on the brakes, and stopped at the sign.
“Why'd you stop?” Claire asked.
I nodded to the sign. “I was just wondering if you wanted to stop for a drink or two. We can rest and dry up.” I also hoped a drink and a little break would raise her sagging spirit.
Claire started to giggle. “Okay. Sounds good. I could use a drink.”
We rode for about a mile, and indeed Bob's Biker Bar showed up on the right. It looked like a small apocalyptic war had been fought in the parking lot. A pickup truck rested on it's roof in the road in front of the bar. Further up the road, a tractor trailer lay on it's side like a beached whale. A few other wrecked cars and trucks were scattered about on the road and parking lot. Glass and debris was everywhere, along with a few decaying bodies.
It was business as usual.
The bar itself was a small, flat-roofed building painted an obnoxious shade of pinkish-red. It had a wooden porch with a few rocking chairs. The building was surrounded by a gravel parking lot. A few motorcycles were lying on their sides or tangled in big piles. Across the street was an automotive repair shop and used-car lot. Nature had already started to claim the area. Kudzu vines and other assorted vegetation had already started to crawl along the roof-lines of both buildings.
I drove into the bar's parking lot and parked next to a big cruiser motorcycle near the end of the lot. There was just too much debris and wreckage in the parking spaces near the stairs. I backed the scooter in just in case we had to leave in a hurry. Claire and I got off the bike, and took a look around with weapons ready. “Wow. This place looks like a war zone,” Claire said.
“I agree. Looks a little ominous.” It was very quiet. The only sound I could hear was the steady rain hitting the metal roof of the bar.
Claire and I climbed the five rickety steps to the porch and approached the door. Claire took one side, and I took the other. The old wooden door was closed, but it had been kicked open at one time. There was a large boot print on the door near the lock, and the jamb was splintered and broken. Claire started to push the door open, but I held up my hand to stop her. “We better take it easy,” I whispered. “Someone might be inside.” I drew my shotgun, and pushed the door open slowly with the barrel.
The door squeaked loudly as it opened. It sounded a lot like the sound saloon doors make in an old western. I walked into the darkened bar, with Claire behind me. We walked slowly, trying to make the least noise possible. Along the far wall was the bar, with some stools in front. There were all the usual bar decorations; tables and chairs, a jukebox in one corner, and a pool table along the wall to the left. The whole bar was paneled with fake wood painted a dark color. On the walls were pictures of people who I assumed were the owners, or maybe regular patrons. A dartboard hung among the old pictures. The whole place smelled damp and waterlogged. There were candles and glasses everywhere. Bob's Biker Bar had seen a fight or two as well; overturned chairs and tables were scattered on the floor, along with large amounts of broken glass.
“John, got a blood trail over here,” Claire called from the bar area.
I walked over to see what she had found. It was a trail of dried blood that ran from behind the bar to a white door, which I assumed led to an office or storeroom. There were a few bloody hand prints on the door at about doorknob level. I turned the knob and tried to push the door open, but something on the other side was blocking it. I decided not to investigate. The smell that came out when I cracked the door was not good.
I put my shotgun on the bar, and Claire lit a few of the candles. I went behind the bar to check out what was left. “Well, kiddo, it's not exactly a five-star establishment, but it's a place to get out of the rain,” I said, trying to sound hopeful. I rummaged around behind the bar, trying to find anything to drink.
Claire placed her bat next to my shotgun on the bar and grabbed a seat on one of the stools. “Well Tiger, is there anything to drink?”
Searching around under the darkened bar didn't produce much. I found a few empty bottles and broken glasses. After a short search, I managed to find two half-full bottles along with two reasonably clean glasses.
“Well, I found some possible bourbon with no label, and half a bottle of some green stuff that may or may not be antifreeze,” I said, holding the bottles at arm's length.
Claire giggled. “Oh, we have to try the green stuff first.”
I blew the dust out of the glasses and poured in a little of the green fluid. We both took a quick sniff. It smelled a little like rotten apples. “Well,” I said, screwing up my courage, “here goes nothing.” I put the glass to my lips, and took a swig. Claire did the same.
It tasted a little like rotten apples as well.
Claire coughed, and banged her hand on the bar. “Holy crap! That's awful. Let's switch to the other stuff.” I couldn't agree more. I returned the bottle of the horrible green liquid to the shelf under the bar. I opened the bottle of it-might-be-bourbon and poured a little each of the glasses.
I raised my glass. “What should we drink to, Claire?”
She thought for a minute. “How about we drink to Bob, and his crappy bar with the lousy green liquor?”
We clinked our glasses together. “Sounds good. To Bob, and his crappy bar.” Claire and I then took a big swig of the light brown liquid in our glasses. It was definitely better than the green stuff. I think it was bourbon, but it was so watered down it was hard to tell. I guess Bob liked to dilute his liquor.
I poured another round for each of us, and we drank it down. We probably were not going to get wasted on this watered-down brew, but it was definitely warming us up on this gloomy, rainy afternoon. It also gave Claire a case of the giggles, which amused me. We sat at the bar and drank, trying to forget all our troubles. It was actually kind of nice for a change.
Claire took her glass, and walked over to the pool table. “You ever shoot pool, Tiger?”
Most of the pool I played was on my old cell phone. “Not much,” I answered, joining her at the table. “How about you?”
“We had a table at the dorm,” she said, picking up a cue stick. “We'd take study breaks, and shoot a little. None of us were any good.”
“Well, let's see what you got, kid” I found six old billiard balls and the cue. The rack was missing, so I arranged them the best I could in a “V” formation.
“Okay old man. What's the bet?” she said, as she walked to the end of the table.
“How about a million dollars? I'm sure we could scrounge that up in our travels. We'll check out a few banks,” I said with a smile.
Claire broke out into a fit of giggles. “Okay, Tiger, you're on.” She leaned down to size up her first shot. She looked a little like those professional pool players I used to see on the sports channels. I had a strange feeling that I was about to get beat by a girl.
With surprising strength for a girl her size, she sent the cue ball flying. It collided with the other balls and sent them spinning around the table. Claire then began calling her shots. “Six ball, corner.” She sank the ball with ease. She admitted she was rusty after missing her third shot. However, Claire on her worst day was still miles ahead of me. Try as I might, I couldn't sink a single ball. As I failed, Claire taunted me relentlessly.
The drinks had made us loose. We continued playing pool, laughing, and having fun for about an hour or so. Slowly, we began to let our guard down. We started to forget where we were, and what was out there waiting for us. We were making too much noise and attracting attention. We should have been a little more careful. The noise eventually did attract something to our little hideout.
A Yellow-Eye zombie pushed open the creaky door and walked inside.
It was Claire that noticed him first. I was bent down, taking a shot, when I looked up to see her frozen in mid-drink with eyes as wide as saucers staring at something behind me. I was just about to ask what was wrong, when I heard the moan. I turned around to see the Yellow-Eye approaching the pool table.
It was a male that had just begun to go a little skeletal. His lips were gone, and his teeth were exposed in a permanent grimace. He was also pretty mobile and intact. In short, he was a tough customer. He came in close and reached out to grab me.
Claire found her voice. “John, watch out!” she yelled, as she went for our weapons on the bar.
The zombie turned, and made a beeline for Claire. Displaying amazing agility for a walking corpse, he intercepted her at the bar, grabbing her by the arm. He started to pull her in for a bite. I reacted quickly. I hit him with my cue stick, catching him right in the face. The zombie's lower jaw came loose and flew through the air behind the bar. I must have got his attention, because he let go of Claire and turned on me. With his lower jaw missing, his tongue hung out of his mouth like some kind of weird party favor. The only sound he could make was a dreadful hissing noise. He reached out to grab me by the throat.
He started to pull me in closer. The zombie party crasher wasn't going to be able to bite me with no lower jaw, but I guess instinct or hunger made him grab me by the neck. As my face got closer, I could smell and see the remains of meals he had in the past. Meat and dried blood were lodged in his still present upper-jaw. His grip tightened as he anticipated trying to bite into my tasty head. Without thinking, I drew my handgun, stuck it where his lower jaw used to be, and pulled the trigger. His brains redecorated the wall behind the bar.
The monster's grip slowly grew weaker, and he fell to the floor with a sizable hole in his head. I stood over my vanquished enemy breathing hard, like I had just run a marathon. I rubbed my neck where he had grabbed me. Claire touched me on the shoulder and handed me my shotgun. “You okay there, Tiger?”
I was just starting to catch my breath. “I'm fine. Did he hurt you?”
Claire rubbed her shoulder. “He twisted my arm a little bit, so now it hurts. Nothing two weeks in the Bahamas wouldn't cure.” We both laughed a little.
I heard more groaning coming from outside the bar. “We've got to get out of here.”
“Yeah. I guess the party is over.” She got her bat ready for battle. “Let's go.”
We made our way to the door. Another Yellow-Eye poked his head into the bar to take a look around. Claire caved his skull in with her bat, and he dropped to the ground. I stopped in the doorway and opened the busted door slightly to take a look. About a half-dozen zombies were cruising the lot looking for some living flesh. Several more were coming from across the street towards the bar. Although our scooter was accessible, the path was full of dangerous walking corpses. This was not going to be easy.
I turned to Claire, and gave her some instructions. “Okay. There's a few bad guys out there. We'll make a break for the scooter and get the hell out of here. Just smash anything that gets in your way. I left the keys in the scooter's ignition. If anything happens to me, start it and go. Understand?”
Claire nodded. “Got it. The same for me. If I get caught, just go.”
I didn't want to think about that possibility. “Okay. Ready?” I said, drawing my gun.
We both counted to three, then burst out of the bar. Claire took the lead with bat flying. The first zombie we encountered was a slim female in a hospital gown coming up the stairs. Claire took an upward swing and sent the monster flying to the ground below. I took out a very decomposed male at the bottom of the stairs that was trying to cut us off. Before he even hit the ground, we broke into a fast run to cover the distance to the scooter. We were lucky in one sense. The pouring rain messed with the zombies ability to find us and slowed them down. The weather gave us a bit of an advantage.
Still, there were quite a few baddies walking around. The general ruckus at the bar and the sound of our feet crunching on the wet gravel had attracted a crowd. Several undead were now staggering into the parking lot from the auto service place across the road.
Several of the zombies were a little too close. I watched as Claire eliminated a middle-aged woman with a missing arm. I took out a young male in a fancy suit with a bullet to his head. I turned to see Claire running straight at a zombie-policeman. Her bat was out of position.
“Claire! Duck!” I yelled, as I brought my gun to bear. Without missing a step, she bent slightly at the waist. I pulled the trigger, and hit the zombie in the shoulder. He recoiled a bit, but recovered. I aimed again, and got him right in the head. He dropped almost at Claire's feet.
As we approached the bike, I saw two final zombies blocking our path. One was a male wearing combat boots, and an “Ask Me About My Grandchildren” t-shirt and not much else. The other was a teenage girl with a broken-off metal pole through her abdomen.
“I got the girl!” Claire yelled, as she took off towards the teenage zombie. When she got close enough, she swung the bat to land a killing blow. The dead teenager deftly avoided Claire's swing and turned to do battle. Claire initially lost her balance, but recovered to face her adversary. For a moment, I thought I was going to have to intervene, but Claire finished strong. She struck the teenage walking corpse in the knees, then finished the job with a killing blow to the back of the head.
No-Pants Zombie was a little easier. He was in worse condition than Teenage Girl Zombie, so the only thing he could do was walk around in circles with his arms outstretched. As I got closer, he turned towards me, and began to moan loudly. Thankfully, he was covered in blood and gore from the waist down, so some of his anatomy was at least a little concealed. I stopped, aimed, and fired a quick shot. It hit him in the neck, and he fell to the ground. He started to get up, but I put a bullet through the top of his skull to finish him off.
Claire and I got to the scooter and climbed aboard. Several zombies were closing in on us from all sides. I turned the key to “Run”, and prayed to whatever God was above us that the damn thing would start. I pressed the starter button. The scooter coughed once, then roared to life.
“Go, John, go!” Claire yelled in my ear. She didn't have to tell me twice. I put the kickstand up, and pinned the throttle. We left the parking lot fishtailing and spewing gravel behind us. We hit the road with the rear tire spinning. I pointed the bike up the road towards the crashed tractor-trailer that was lying on its side. Several zombies, perhaps attracted by the sound at the bar, ambled down the road towards us. There were quite a few on the road, but it looked like we could make it through. I would just have to weave around to find a clear path.
Easy as Chinese Algebra.
Claire and I both put our heads down as I pinned the throttle to get through the phalanx of undead. I tore through them at breakneck speed, going from gap to gap. We were too fast for the slow zombies to grab us. Several reached out as we sped past, but I skillfully weaved away so that they would grab nothing but air. I felt like a world-class Grand Prix motorcycle racer as I steered through the rows of undead.
We were going to make it. All we had to do was get past the wrecked truck and the bulk of the zombies on the road. It looked like Claire and I had lucked out again. I zoomed past the wrecked truck, and the zombies began to thin out. I held the bike at full throttle for about another mile, and put the madness of the bar behind us. Soon the zombies disappeared, and the road was clear. ”We made it, Tiger!” I heard Claire yell in my ear.
At that exact moment, a loud noise came from the scooter beneath me. The engine blew.
******************
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We rode for a while stopping in a few places to find supplies. The wrecked stores and gas stations we stopped at were very empty and picked over. We managed a few bottles of water and maybe a couple packages of crackers. Claire found a few cases of cat and dog food left over in a pet store, but we weren't that desperate yet. We still had about a week or two of food and water between us, so it wasn't time to panic.
As we rode, the weather turned downright nasty. The steady drizzle that had persisted throughout the day turned into a cold rain. After a few miles, Claire and I were cold, wet, and miserable. I had just started to look for a dry place to rest, when I spotted a sign on the side of the road. It was one of those light up signs with the black letters that you could change. As I got closer, I could make out the words “Bob's Biker Bar-1 mi. on right.” I pulled on the brakes, and stopped at the sign.
“Why'd you stop?” Claire asked.
I nodded to the sign. “I was just wondering if you wanted to stop for a drink or two. We can rest and dry up.” I also hoped a drink and a little break would raise her sagging spirit.
Claire started to giggle. “Okay. Sounds good. I could use a drink.”
We rode for about a mile, and indeed Bob's Biker Bar showed up on the right. It looked like a small apocalyptic war had been fought in the parking lot. A pickup truck rested on it's roof in the road in front of the bar. Further up the road, a tractor trailer lay on it's side like a beached whale. A few other wrecked cars and trucks were scattered about on the road and parking lot. Glass and debris was everywhere, along with a few decaying bodies.
It was business as usual.
The bar itself was a small, flat-roofed building painted an obnoxious shade of pinkish-red. It had a wooden porch with a few rocking chairs. The building was surrounded by a gravel parking lot. A few motorcycles were lying on their sides or tangled in big piles. Across the street was an automotive repair shop and used-car lot. Nature had already started to claim the area. Kudzu vines and other assorted vegetation had already started to crawl along the roof-lines of both buildings.
I drove into the bar's parking lot and parked next to a big cruiser motorcycle near the end of the lot. There was just too much debris and wreckage in the parking spaces near the stairs. I backed the scooter in just in case we had to leave in a hurry. Claire and I got off the bike, and took a look around with weapons ready. “Wow. This place looks like a war zone,” Claire said.
“I agree. Looks a little ominous.” It was very quiet. The only sound I could hear was the steady rain hitting the metal roof of the bar.
Claire and I climbed the five rickety steps to the porch and approached the door. Claire took one side, and I took the other. The old wooden door was closed, but it had been kicked open at one time. There was a large boot print on the door near the lock, and the jamb was splintered and broken. Claire started to push the door open, but I held up my hand to stop her. “We better take it easy,” I whispered. “Someone might be inside.” I drew my shotgun, and pushed the door open slowly with the barrel.
The door squeaked loudly as it opened. It sounded a lot like the sound saloon doors make in an old western. I walked into the darkened bar, with Claire behind me. We walked slowly, trying to make the least noise possible. Along the far wall was the bar, with some stools in front. There were all the usual bar decorations; tables and chairs, a jukebox in one corner, and a pool table along the wall to the left. The whole bar was paneled with fake wood painted a dark color. On the walls were pictures of people who I assumed were the owners, or maybe regular patrons. A dartboard hung among the old pictures. The whole place smelled damp and waterlogged. There were candles and glasses everywhere. Bob's Biker Bar had seen a fight or two as well; overturned chairs and tables were scattered on the floor, along with large amounts of broken glass.
“John, got a blood trail over here,” Claire called from the bar area.
I walked over to see what she had found. It was a trail of dried blood that ran from behind the bar to a white door, which I assumed led to an office or storeroom. There were a few bloody hand prints on the door at about doorknob level. I turned the knob and tried to push the door open, but something on the other side was blocking it. I decided not to investigate. The smell that came out when I cracked the door was not good.
I put my shotgun on the bar, and Claire lit a few of the candles. I went behind the bar to check out what was left. “Well, kiddo, it's not exactly a five-star establishment, but it's a place to get out of the rain,” I said, trying to sound hopeful. I rummaged around behind the bar, trying to find anything to drink.
Claire placed her bat next to my shotgun on the bar and grabbed a seat on one of the stools. “Well Tiger, is there anything to drink?”
Searching around under the darkened bar didn't produce much. I found a few empty bottles and broken glasses. After a short search, I managed to find two half-full bottles along with two reasonably clean glasses.
“Well, I found some possible bourbon with no label, and half a bottle of some green stuff that may or may not be antifreeze,” I said, holding the bottles at arm's length.
Claire giggled. “Oh, we have to try the green stuff first.”
I blew the dust out of the glasses and poured in a little of the green fluid. We both took a quick sniff. It smelled a little like rotten apples. “Well,” I said, screwing up my courage, “here goes nothing.” I put the glass to my lips, and took a swig. Claire did the same.
It tasted a little like rotten apples as well.
Claire coughed, and banged her hand on the bar. “Holy crap! That's awful. Let's switch to the other stuff.” I couldn't agree more. I returned the bottle of the horrible green liquid to the shelf under the bar. I opened the bottle of it-might-be-bourbon and poured a little each of the glasses.
I raised my glass. “What should we drink to, Claire?”
She thought for a minute. “How about we drink to Bob, and his crappy bar with the lousy green liquor?”
We clinked our glasses together. “Sounds good. To Bob, and his crappy bar.” Claire and I then took a big swig of the light brown liquid in our glasses. It was definitely better than the green stuff. I think it was bourbon, but it was so watered down it was hard to tell. I guess Bob liked to dilute his liquor.
I poured another round for each of us, and we drank it down. We probably were not going to get wasted on this watered-down brew, but it was definitely warming us up on this gloomy, rainy afternoon. It also gave Claire a case of the giggles, which amused me. We sat at the bar and drank, trying to forget all our troubles. It was actually kind of nice for a change.
Claire took her glass, and walked over to the pool table. “You ever shoot pool, Tiger?”
Most of the pool I played was on my old cell phone. “Not much,” I answered, joining her at the table. “How about you?”
“We had a table at the dorm,” she said, picking up a cue stick. “We'd take study breaks, and shoot a little. None of us were any good.”
“Well, let's see what you got, kid” I found six old billiard balls and the cue. The rack was missing, so I arranged them the best I could in a “V” formation.
“Okay old man. What's the bet?” she said, as she walked to the end of the table.
“How about a million dollars? I'm sure we could scrounge that up in our travels. We'll check out a few banks,” I said with a smile.
Claire broke out into a fit of giggles. “Okay, Tiger, you're on.” She leaned down to size up her first shot. She looked a little like those professional pool players I used to see on the sports channels. I had a strange feeling that I was about to get beat by a girl.
With surprising strength for a girl her size, she sent the cue ball flying. It collided with the other balls and sent them spinning around the table. Claire then began calling her shots. “Six ball, corner.” She sank the ball with ease. She admitted she was rusty after missing her third shot. However, Claire on her worst day was still miles ahead of me. Try as I might, I couldn't sink a single ball. As I failed, Claire taunted me relentlessly.
The drinks had made us loose. We continued playing pool, laughing, and having fun for about an hour or so. Slowly, we began to let our guard down. We started to forget where we were, and what was out there waiting for us. We were making too much noise and attracting attention. We should have been a little more careful. The noise eventually did attract something to our little hideout.
A Yellow-Eye zombie pushed open the creaky door and walked inside.
It was Claire that noticed him first. I was bent down, taking a shot, when I looked up to see her frozen in mid-drink with eyes as wide as saucers staring at something behind me. I was just about to ask what was wrong, when I heard the moan. I turned around to see the Yellow-Eye approaching the pool table.
It was a male that had just begun to go a little skeletal. His lips were gone, and his teeth were exposed in a permanent grimace. He was also pretty mobile and intact. In short, he was a tough customer. He came in close and reached out to grab me.
Claire found her voice. “John, watch out!” she yelled, as she went for our weapons on the bar.
The zombie turned, and made a beeline for Claire. Displaying amazing agility for a walking corpse, he intercepted her at the bar, grabbing her by the arm. He started to pull her in for a bite. I reacted quickly. I hit him with my cue stick, catching him right in the face. The zombie's lower jaw came loose and flew through the air behind the bar. I must have got his attention, because he let go of Claire and turned on me. With his lower jaw missing, his tongue hung out of his mouth like some kind of weird party favor. The only sound he could make was a dreadful hissing noise. He reached out to grab me by the throat.
He started to pull me in closer. The zombie party crasher wasn't going to be able to bite me with no lower jaw, but I guess instinct or hunger made him grab me by the neck. As my face got closer, I could smell and see the remains of meals he had in the past. Meat and dried blood were lodged in his still present upper-jaw. His grip tightened as he anticipated trying to bite into my tasty head. Without thinking, I drew my handgun, stuck it where his lower jaw used to be, and pulled the trigger. His brains redecorated the wall behind the bar.
The monster's grip slowly grew weaker, and he fell to the floor with a sizable hole in his head. I stood over my vanquished enemy breathing hard, like I had just run a marathon. I rubbed my neck where he had grabbed me. Claire touched me on the shoulder and handed me my shotgun. “You okay there, Tiger?”
I was just starting to catch my breath. “I'm fine. Did he hurt you?”
Claire rubbed her shoulder. “He twisted my arm a little bit, so now it hurts. Nothing two weeks in the Bahamas wouldn't cure.” We both laughed a little.
I heard more groaning coming from outside the bar. “We've got to get out of here.”
“Yeah. I guess the party is over.” She got her bat ready for battle. “Let's go.”
We made our way to the door. Another Yellow-Eye poked his head into the bar to take a look around. Claire caved his skull in with her bat, and he dropped to the ground. I stopped in the doorway and opened the busted door slightly to take a look. About a half-dozen zombies were cruising the lot looking for some living flesh. Several more were coming from across the street towards the bar. Although our scooter was accessible, the path was full of dangerous walking corpses. This was not going to be easy.
I turned to Claire, and gave her some instructions. “Okay. There's a few bad guys out there. We'll make a break for the scooter and get the hell out of here. Just smash anything that gets in your way. I left the keys in the scooter's ignition. If anything happens to me, start it and go. Understand?”
Claire nodded. “Got it. The same for me. If I get caught, just go.”
I didn't want to think about that possibility. “Okay. Ready?” I said, drawing my gun.
We both counted to three, then burst out of the bar. Claire took the lead with bat flying. The first zombie we encountered was a slim female in a hospital gown coming up the stairs. Claire took an upward swing and sent the monster flying to the ground below. I took out a very decomposed male at the bottom of the stairs that was trying to cut us off. Before he even hit the ground, we broke into a fast run to cover the distance to the scooter. We were lucky in one sense. The pouring rain messed with the zombies ability to find us and slowed them down. The weather gave us a bit of an advantage.
Still, there were quite a few baddies walking around. The general ruckus at the bar and the sound of our feet crunching on the wet gravel had attracted a crowd. Several undead were now staggering into the parking lot from the auto service place across the road.
Several of the zombies were a little too close. I watched as Claire eliminated a middle-aged woman with a missing arm. I took out a young male in a fancy suit with a bullet to his head. I turned to see Claire running straight at a zombie-policeman. Her bat was out of position.
“Claire! Duck!” I yelled, as I brought my gun to bear. Without missing a step, she bent slightly at the waist. I pulled the trigger, and hit the zombie in the shoulder. He recoiled a bit, but recovered. I aimed again, and got him right in the head. He dropped almost at Claire's feet.
As we approached the bike, I saw two final zombies blocking our path. One was a male wearing combat boots, and an “Ask Me About My Grandchildren” t-shirt and not much else. The other was a teenage girl with a broken-off metal pole through her abdomen.
“I got the girl!” Claire yelled, as she took off towards the teenage zombie. When she got close enough, she swung the bat to land a killing blow. The dead teenager deftly avoided Claire's swing and turned to do battle. Claire initially lost her balance, but recovered to face her adversary. For a moment, I thought I was going to have to intervene, but Claire finished strong. She struck the teenage walking corpse in the knees, then finished the job with a killing blow to the back of the head.
No-Pants Zombie was a little easier. He was in worse condition than Teenage Girl Zombie, so the only thing he could do was walk around in circles with his arms outstretched. As I got closer, he turned towards me, and began to moan loudly. Thankfully, he was covered in blood and gore from the waist down, so some of his anatomy was at least a little concealed. I stopped, aimed, and fired a quick shot. It hit him in the neck, and he fell to the ground. He started to get up, but I put a bullet through the top of his skull to finish him off.
Claire and I got to the scooter and climbed aboard. Several zombies were closing in on us from all sides. I turned the key to “Run”, and prayed to whatever God was above us that the damn thing would start. I pressed the starter button. The scooter coughed once, then roared to life.
“Go, John, go!” Claire yelled in my ear. She didn't have to tell me twice. I put the kickstand up, and pinned the throttle. We left the parking lot fishtailing and spewing gravel behind us. We hit the road with the rear tire spinning. I pointed the bike up the road towards the crashed tractor-trailer that was lying on its side. Several zombies, perhaps attracted by the sound at the bar, ambled down the road towards us. There were quite a few on the road, but it looked like we could make it through. I would just have to weave around to find a clear path.
Easy as Chinese Algebra.
Claire and I both put our heads down as I pinned the throttle to get through the phalanx of undead. I tore through them at breakneck speed, going from gap to gap. We were too fast for the slow zombies to grab us. Several reached out as we sped past, but I skillfully weaved away so that they would grab nothing but air. I felt like a world-class Grand Prix motorcycle racer as I steered through the rows of undead.
We were going to make it. All we had to do was get past the wrecked truck and the bulk of the zombies on the road. It looked like Claire and I had lucked out again. I zoomed past the wrecked truck, and the zombies began to thin out. I held the bike at full throttle for about another mile, and put the madness of the bar behind us. Soon the zombies disappeared, and the road was clear. ”We made it, Tiger!” I heard Claire yell in my ear.
At that exact moment, a loud noise came from the scooter beneath me. The engine blew.
******************
Available for sale at the following:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CZLEYZE
CreateSpace (Paperback)https://www.createspace.com/4307201
DriveThruFiction: http://www.drivethrufiction.com/produ...
NOOK: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/somet...
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/eboo...
Leanpub: https://leanpub.com/SometimesWeRan
Libiro: http://www.libiro.com/index.php?route...
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id65...
Scribd: http://www.scribd.com/book/230611071/...
Inktera: http://www.inktera.com/store/title/c0...
Thanks for stopping by. :)
