Dying Shortly Page 3

  In order to get to the gas station she needed to traverse the broken bridge or wade through fast-moving sea water from the ocean. She didn’t know if she had enough strength to make it. That had never stopped her before.

  Praying to a God she no longer believed in, she moved slowly in that direction, skirting the undead and glad that they were so spread out.

  She wondered why there were so many zombies concentrated in this strip of land. Once she’d gotten safely across the river and onto A1A she thought she’d be safer. With the Atlantic Ocean to the east and the river to her west, land consisted of a block or two of houses in length at any given point, but where she stood there wasn’t much of anything but sand dunes. Usually the dead convened around destroyed towns, burnt-out buildings or car pileups.

  There were no undead pulling themselves from the river as she stood on its banks. The bridge was unmanageable to cross, with a large chunk of it missing and presumably sitting at the bottom of the river. Darlene wondered how zombies could destroy a bridge like that, but decided that her fellow humans had most likely done the deed.

  Most of the property damage she’d encountered since this had begun was man-made, with looting, raping and fires done without the zombies’ help. Man had turned on man. Instead of helping one another they’d decided to kill for that last scrap of food. Safety in numbers? Not if it meant having to share a can of soup. It was easier to bash your former friend and neighbor in the head with the can rather then sharing it.

  With the sun overhead and the smell of the water before her, Darlene could almost imagine that everything was normal again. Somewhere a bird actually chirped and she could almost sense the fish in the water and the ants and spiders in the grass. She was on vacation with her father, enjoying the Florida beaches and the warmth before heading back to the harsh Maine winter. They would stop later and eat at an amazing local restaurant that sold fresh seafood platters, local beer, and had tiki torches and real palm trees adjacent to the open-air dining room.

  She took in a deep breath to get the rich taste of suntan oil, mixed drinks and fried fish into her nostrils. When she choked on the stench of the undead moving silently toward her she sighed. The machete strapped to her back was quietly unsheathed and she said good-bye to her father and her vacation dreams once again.

  Two

  He was alone and his skin was sloughing off from so much time in the seawater. His clothes were missing as well as his left arm and his hair. Darlene stepped back and took a swing with the machete, slicing through its neck like butter. She didn’t even wait for him to fall before turning and stepping into the cold water of the river.

  How many had she dispatched since it began? How many zombies had she destroyed? How many of the living did she have to kill as well? Barry came to mind, but he was only one of a score of men and women she’d had to fight and put down to keep from being killed herself. The first to die by her hands had been her father…

  “Enough of this shit,” she whispered and began moving into the water, holding her machete and two guns overhead. Luckily this was a small tributary of the actual river so she got chest-deep into it before it leveled out and she could start rising again. Her head bobbed left to right, left to right, prepared for a zombie to grip her ankle or shoot from the water. Instead, she stood on the far bank and looked around at more dunes and the sand-covered road that led to the gas station. This side of the bridge no zombies were shuffling about. She wanted to be as quiet as she could so that they wouldn’t be.

  As she approached the gas station she held out the Desert Eagle in her right hand and the machete swinging in her left. She was as wary about zombies as the living at this point. Friends were few and far between. Darlene figured that if there was anything of value in the gas station she’d be fighting for it. Just another day in paradise.

  A chain-link fence surrounded the property, barbwire strung across the top. There was no discernable gate as far as she could see. She hated being so exposed but no trees, bushes or even dunes were between the water and the fence.

  Darlene hesitated before moving to her left and away from the road leading to the gas station. Behind the property the back road wound up over another, smaller bridge, leading to a two-story house. It, too, was boxed in with the fence. The road leading between the two buildings was fenced in as well. Whoever was up in the house was probably watching her. Even now they would be getting into position with a rifle if they had one, her head in the cross-hairs. She closed her eyes and counted to five.

  “I guess not,” she whispered when her head didn’t explode. It was almost… disappointing that she was still alive. She buried the thought in her head, swimming from the heat, lack of food and water, and the constant fear with each step she took.

  To keep her mind off of it she checked and rechecked her weapons and she walked directly to the fence and stared at the gas station. If the owners were going to kill her they didn’t have long-range weapons. She guessed that they’d make their way down the fenced-in road soon enough. Best see what the lay of the land was like until the confrontation.

  The pumps were still intact, although sand and debris had been flung up and around them. The road itself was nearly obliterated with the natural elements as well. When Darlene noticed that the windows were unbroken and the main door complete she smiled.

  Hopping the fence was no easy task in her physical state but she managed it. Her jeans had become snagged on the barbed wire and one leg was shredded. Darlene had to stop at the top and keep her head from swimming and dumping her face-first to the ground. She’d lost way too much way too fast and her muscle mass was being depleted at an alarming rate, but the alternative was much worse. She breathed in the salt air as she approached the gas station with her Desert Eagle drawn.

  She hoped that the owners weren’t inside.

  The windows and doors had been covered from inside with cardboard. So far, so good.

  The front door was locked as she suspected. She walked slowly around the building, trying to catch a glimpse of anything inside but there wasn’t even a crack.

  The bay doors to the garage area were chained and padlocked from outside, the large windows covered as well. When Darlene got to the back she glanced at the house but didn’t notice any movement. For the moment there was no pursuit and no gunshots.

  The back door leading into the garage was unlocked and she hesitated before turning the knob all the way and opening it. Caution made her stare intently at the door frame for tell-tale wiring or booby-traps. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  Six nights ago she’d come upon a camp of the living, nestled between a smoldering bowling alley and a dilapidated fast food restaurant. They had somehow dragged a damaged car into the gaps at either end and positioned guards with rifles to watch. She was pondering whether or not to reveal herself and perhaps join them when she tripped over a wire. Luckily it wasn’t attached to explosives but simply to rusted cans. When it clanged the alarm three shots had rung out in quick succession in the general area that she was moments before.

  The undead in the area began moving toward them. Darlene had beat a hasty retreat, dodging the undead until she could escape into a used car lot and hide in the flatbed of a Toyota Tacoma until she fell asleep. The next morning there was nothing left of the group except for blood and a few scraps of food.

  “Fuck it,” she whispered and turned the knob. It didn’t explode, no shrapnel flew from a hidden gun, and no green glop fell from the top of the door. Silence greeted her as she stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

  It was dark and she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. She held her machete out just in case something dead was moving on her in the blackness.

  The garage area was empty save for some grease stains on the cement floor. She hoped that a red tool setup was present so she could find a few weapons: big wrenches, hammers or even a saw. Her machete was getting dull from so much use. She’d need to sharpen it or find another weapon s
ooner than later.

  Even though she could now see that the room was empty, she took her time and stalked around. Maybe something was hidden in a dark corner.

  The only thing she found was the door leading into the rest of the gas station. It was also covered with cardboard, which she found odd. Covering the windows leading to the outside made sense.

  This door was also unlocked. Again, she checked it for wires before turning the handle completely. Darlene noticed her hand was shaking. Her nerves were shot and she wondered for the hundredth times today whether all of this was worth it or not. She was physically and mentally exhausted, each day another trial and tribulation.

  Darlene composed herself and shrugged her aching shoulders. “Get over it, bitch. Time to kill something.”

  The knob turned easily enough and she swung the door open, leading with the Desert Eagle. The first thing she noticed was the hum of the coffee makers, then the lights glowing from the soda coolers, and then the two men sitting at a table playing cards.

  “Deal me in, boys,” she said and realized how stupid and cliché it was. Darlene didn’t care. The coffee smelled like heaven and she hoped they had cream and sugar.

  Three

  “Holy shit,” was all one of the men could say before Darlene was upon them, holding the gun to his head.

  They were both middle-aged but clean. They smelled of deodorant instead of shit. They wore coveralls and baseball caps, clean sneakers and they were clean-shaven. Darlene hadn’t shaved in God-knows how long. I could scare them with my damn bush, she thought.

  They stood in this pose for at least two minutes, Darlene with the gun to one’s head and eyeing both. She had no idea what she was going to do at this point. She was too tired to take them both on and knew as soon as she pulled the trigger on the first one the second was close enough to grab her.

  “Can I help you?” the second one managed, hands in the air.

  “You can start by getting me a cup of that coffee.”

  He smiled slightly. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “None of your fucking business. Move before your lover here gets his brains splattered on the floor.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Just relax, we can work this out.” The man took three strides to the coffee pots. Darlene pressed the gun to the other’s head and tried not to let him see her hand shaking.

  “Never tell a woman to relax.”

  “Sorry,” he said as he turned. He had a small-caliber pistol in his hand.

  Darlene pulled the trigger on instinct and it saved her life. The explosion of his partner’s head wasn’t expected and his shot went wide. Darlene shot him in the stomach and he fell to the floor.

  When she heard him moaning she swung around the table and leveled the gun at his head. “Move and you die.”

  “Too late, I think. You bitch.” He tried vainly to cover the blood pouring from his midsection. His eyes were already glossing over.

  She went to him, standing over him with the gun. “I can end this now or leave you here to bleed to death.”

  “Doesn’t much matter,” he choked out the words.

  “Oh, but it does.” Darlene leaned closer. “All I wanted was some fucking coffee.”

  He actually laughed at that, and began coughing and screaming in pain.

  “Shut up.”

  He complied.

  “It’s your choice.”

  “Kill me,” he managed.

  “Who’s at the house?”

  “No one.”

  “Liar.”

  “I swear. Joe and I were the last two left. The others turned about a week ago.”

  “Then why were you sitting here playing cards?”

  He coughed blood. She repeated the question.

  “Why the fuck not? We had enough food and drink here, and the house was overrun with dead fuckers. We trapped them inside and came out here. What else could we do?”

  “It doesn’t look like there’s a ton of food left in here.”

  He tried to roll onto his side but she threatened him with a kick and he stopped moving. “The bulk of the food is stacked in the house. There’s enough food and water there to last a lifetime. Fucking Gary fucked up. Why did he have to go out and explore? Fuck.”

  “How many in the house?”

  “Eight.”

  “What about that fucker I met before?”

  “Who?”

  “The asshole with the lazy eye.”

  He shook his head. “No idea who you’re talking about. We’ve been cut off from everything since this shit started. We were smart enough to raid two Publix in the area for supplies.”

  “How is the power on?”

  “Shit, the whole grid never shut off. You got power from here to St. Augustine. Fuck,” he said and squirmed on the floor. “Shoot me.”

  Darlene pulled the trigger without preamble and shot him in the head. She hoped the fences around the building would keep the undead out. She was sure they had heard the commotion and gunfire.

  At this moment she didn’t care. All she wanted was a sip of the coffee. She poured a cup, added powdered creamer and chipped off a chunk of hardened sugar from a bowl, and held the cup to her nose. She remembered this smell, although she knew the coffee was stale, it had been burnt, and watered down. As soon as her tongue touched the hot brew it sent a ripple through her body. She remembered having a favorite coffee mug, a taupe one with an old, grumpy woman on the side. Below her it said ‘…not before my first sip…’ Darlene started to weep softly as she took a seat and held the cup with both hands.

  Four

  The undead had heard the gunshots. They came in twos and threes, walking across the channel and standing at the fence, dripping water and body parts. Darlene counted at least twenty at one point, all directly in front of the gas station and bumping against the fence as they tried to move forward. She kept quiet and watched them through a small hole in the cardboard covering the door. After an hour most of them moved off in random directions.

  Darlene chewed on her fifth and final beef jerky strip. The two men had minimal supplies. They could have survived about a week on the snacks. Four cans of soup and three vacuum-sealed packs of noodles. Darlene admired what they’d done: the coolers had been cleaned out, and the spoiled milk and flat carbonated beverages replaced by various sizes of containers of water, crammed onto the sliding shelves and stacked inside the coolers themselves. She estimated about three hundred bottles of water, enough to get her through the next six months or so. Not to mention that the faucets in the bathroom still spat water and she could easily refill as she drank.

  The candy was all spoiled or stale, and she had enough cigarettes and tobacco products to get lung cancer. Despite what she’d heard, the Twinkies were actually hard. With the air conditioning still working nothing smelled, but there were only a few items that were still edible. The beer had been either finished off or raided a long time ago.

  Darlene found some pink women’s razors and shaving cream and ventured into the bathroom to shave and wash up. There was plenty of soap and deodorant stacked neatly under the sink, as well as washcloths and ibuprofen bottles. Before attacking the jungle that was her legs and privates she popped three pills and swallowed them with tap water. They scratched down her dry throat.

  Her clothes were peeled off and dispatched to the far corner. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they had suddenly stood and made a run for it. Right now she’d give anything for a bra that fit and undies that didn’t have rips in them.

  As she applied shaving cream she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in air conditioning. “You never get used to the smell of the dead or the smell of your own filth,” she whispered. Soon the floor was stained with shaving cream, hair and dirt.

  On a whim she checked the store for makeup but found none. She went back into the bathroom and finished, scrubbing her face with most of a bar of soap. For the first time in too long she stared at herself in the dirty mirror and cringed. H
er cheekbones were sunken, her eyes puffy and red. Her once-lustrous hair hung in knots, her lips chapped and her chin bruised.

  Darlene had never been a skinny woman – she preferred thinking of herself as curvy – but now she was downright anorexic. She guessed that she was hovering at around one hundred and five pounds, a far cry from the healthy one-fifty she normally carried. Her body was sore, black and blue covering her legs and arms, and she could spend a week counting all of the cuts across her body.

  She stopped looking at herself in the mirror while she gathered her clothes and began the task of washing them under the hot water from the tap. The dirt and grime filled the sink and she noticed for the first time all of the holes and rips in her jeans and T-shirt. She’d need to find new clothing before she had to make her way naked in this dead world.

  Sometimes you forget about the things you no longer have, she thought as she eyed a stack of toilet paper rolls. She was going to enjoy her time here, at least until the food ran out. Then it was back into the wild and fending for the next meal.

  Later, after a dinner of cold chicken noodle soup and three bottles of water, she took both bodies outside. She didn’t have the strength to bury them but figured that tomorrow she would have to. They yielded little in the way of supplies: the keys to the store, house keys she assumed were from the house up the road, a pack of gum, two pocketknives, and a dead cell phone. The small-caliber gun was empty; he’d used his last shot. She left the gun on the ground where he’d dropped it.

  Darlene tossed the cell phone around in her hand and laughed. It was funny what people still clung to, even when they were of no practical use. She reached into her pocket and fingered her keychain. Her house key, her car key and the key to her dad’s house were there, all useless. Yet she had them with her at all times.

  She peeked outside again but there was nothing hanging around the fence. She knew they were out there. They were always out there. The glow from the coolers was enough light to see by, so she didn’t have to stumble around in the dark.