Dying Days Read online

  “Sure.”

  “Good. Now come back tomorrow and bring some food and water with you.”

  He threw his hands in the air in mock anger. “What? It’s cold outside. By tomorrow it will be colder, with eight feet of snow.”

  “Then make sure you bring back some hot food.”

  “Would Buffalo wings suffice, my Lady of the Snowdrifts?”

  “Make sure you bring plenty of celery and Ranch dressing,” Darlene called down.

  * * * * *

  Pierce brought stale Pringles sour cream and onion chips, a six-pack of spring water, and a box of white rice. They ate, sharing small talk and keeping away from the Big Conversation, the elephant in the corner that was their situation.

  When he suddenly leaned over and kissed her, she responded in kind, and took his hand to her breast. In moments, they were tearing at each other, clothes flying and their bodies responding. Darlene didn’t know or care how long it had been for him, but she knew it had been too long since she’d had consensual sex.

  Consensual sex? How abut being raped by the redneck militia, Darlene thought and quickly regretted it.

  “Is something wrong? Is this too fast?” Pierce asked, pulling away from her and genuinely looking worried.

  “It’s not you, it’s me,” Darlene said.

  Pierce smiled. “Are you breaking up with me?”

  Darlene had to laugh. “That did sound bad. No, I’ve just gone through some pretty bad shit lately.”

  “I imagine most people have. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. I’ve got nothing else to do.”

  “I’ll be fine, just a brain-fart.” Darlene kissed him softly on the lips. He was a good-looking guy, maintaining his personal hygiene with a shaved face, fingernails trimmed, and the hint of shampoo in his groomed hair. “How about you? Anything bad happen to you lately?”

  “Besides people trying to eat me? Nah.” Pierce looked around from their vantage point on a couch above the main floor of the library. “You’ve got a nice place here. Read a lot?”

  “Really?”

  “No.” She laughed.

  “Got any good porn?”

  “Some erotica titles I found, but they get me too worked up.” Darlene liked him. She didn’t care about the future or anything else. Like Bob Seger said,’ we got tonight, who needs tomorrow?’ Or something like that.

  “I could read to you,” Pierce said and grinned. “Where are they hidden?”

  “I’m by myself, why would I hide them?” she said but couldn’t stop smiling. “They’re hidden next to the makeshift bed.”

  “Exactly. You always hide your porn. If I was the last man on earth I’d still hide my Playboys.”

  “Playboy? I’ve got erotica in my room, some choice sex writing.”

  “Nice. Mind if I see for myself?”

  “Are you trying to get into my room?” Darlene said and stood, taking his hand.

  “I’m actually trying to get in your pants, but we’ll start with the room.”

  * * * * *

  Darlene woke with the window breaking and reached for her Desert Eagle.

  It was dark and frigid cold. Her knees popped. She felt sluggish, but forced herself to move. Pierce, who’d finally relented and moved into the library fortress two weeks ago, was still sleeping.

  Outside the converted bedroom, standing at the top of the stairs, Darlene saw her breath in white plumes but nothing else. Maybe I was dreaming?

  Despite wearing three layers of clothing, two pairs of heavy socks and a woolen hat, she was freezing. Glancing at one of the large overhead windows, she saw nothing. No stars. She hoped it wasn’t snowing again.

  Stepping quietly down the stairs, she surveyed the room. They’d recently piled up most of the desks, chairs and miscellaneous furniture against the front doors, blocking off the lobby. In the center of the room now stood two comfortable chairs, two stacks of books to read, and a single desk between them. At the time, they’d joked that it was something to do besides complain about the cold, lack of food, and having sex. Of course, right after, they’d had sex.

  Now, she could see something lighter than the shadows glittering to her far right. She panicked and almost pulled the trigger before realizing it was falling snow.

  “Shit,” she whispered. She went back and woke Pierce. “We have a problem.”

  “Damn it’s cold.”

  “That’s the problem.” Darlene led him to the main room and they went down the stairs, eyes roaming the darkness. Pierce had a weapon of his own: a machete which he took great pride in oiling and keeping sharp.

  “Snow,” he muttered.

  “No shit,” she said playfully. One of the ceiling windows, which in better times added character to the room, now littered their feet in a million shards. A steady plummet of snowflakes fell through the gaping hole.

  “You’re shaking,” Pierce said and put his arms around her. She was shivering, her breath hanging in front of her face. “Your teeth are chattering. It’s really annoying, that sound.”

  “You know what’s really annoying?”

  Pierce kissed her cold ear and she shuddered, half from the cold and half from his touch. “Tell me.”

  “That we didn’t meet under better conditions.”

  “What could be better than this? Literally freezing to death, snow threatening to bury us, zombies trying to chew on my man-junk like a toy… oh, and we’re starving.”

  “You have such a way of making me forget our problems.” Darlene snuggled close to him. “That was sarcasm, by the way.”

  “We need to build a fire. Thirty blankets aren’t cutting it anymore, especially tonight. We’ll be frozen by morning with this new problem.”

  “No fire.” Darlene felt her fingers tingling and knew frostbite was a very real threat. “That will only alert the living and the dead where we are.”

  “The living wouldn’t be a problem. Strength in numbers, I say. There might be people a block away from us that need help or can help us get out of here and move south.” Pierce rubbed his exposed cheeks. “If we don’t light a fire, we’ll die. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Fuck.” Darlene looked up at the gaping hole in the ceiling again. As if in response to her worries, a large piece of glass crashed down, the fresh pile of snow on the floor cushioning the sound. “Let’s pile up some books, but we need to find a spot where the smoke isn’t seen for miles and it doesn’t choke us to death, either.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll get some kindling.” Pierce smiled. “Would you prefer we start by burning children’s books or reference books?”

  “Anything with a zombie in it. I’ve had enough of them for a lifetime.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I guess we’ll need the piles of blankets and clothes down here with us. Do you mind?”

  “No.” Darlene kissed him lightly on his cold cheek. “We’re going to run out of food and drink soon.”

  Pierce put his head down. “How many days do you think we have?”

  “If we eat conservatively we have about two weeks. The problem is the places closest to us have been picked clean.”

  “I say we leave tomorrow for the south. I hear Florida is nice this time of year,” Pierce said.

  “I need to get back to Maine.”

  “I’m thinking if Baltimore has a foot of snow right now, Maine has eight. You’ll never make it.”

  And there it was, Darlene thought. He didn’t say ‘we’ll never make it’. She was a fling, an escape for a few weeks or months, a quick fuck until something better came along. Even at the end of the world, Darlene was being screwed over by some guy she’d just met. Stupid, stupid.

  Pierce turned away and began gathering books.

  * * * * *

  Darlene tried to justify her actions: he was using her, the library was too cold with the hole, the fire would eventually draw unwanted attention, she was better on her own, and she saw no future with Pierce. “Future? That’s really funny,” she
whispered.

  It had stopped snowing sometime in the early morning hours. With Pierce wrapped up in at least four covers, his back to the smoldering fire and snoring softly, she’d risen and gathered her meager belongings. She pondered taking half the food, roughly twenty cans, but decided against it.

  Filling her pockets with three cans of food and one of the can openers, she sneaked outside into the parking lot.

  A lone zombie was struggling through a snowdrift across the street but it hadn’t seen her. She waited in the still, cold air as the sun tried to break free from the clouds.

  “Which way to go?” she whispered.

  She could head north towards Maine and hope someone – anyone – she’d known was still alive. She wondered if south was a better move; get out of this cold weather. As much as she’d complained about bad weather reports on the news, having a report was better than looking out the window and figuring it out on her own.

  As she stood there freezing, she decided south was the better choice. Darlene advanced through the snow.

  * * * * *

  Gray plumes of smoke mixed with the gently falling snow, creating a fog-bank effect. Darlene couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of her. Twice, she’d stumbled into a zombie buried in the snow. Her left boot had a gash in it from one biter and her socks and feet were soaked. She prayed frostbite wouldn’t be a problem.

  When she got closer to the actual fire, she had to laugh. The movie theatre where she’d first met Pierce was ablaze, the diner before it already gutted and smoldering.

  She heard snow crunching behind her and turned to see three zombies, all formerly women, moving slowly towards her. One twisted an ankle and went down, disappearing for a brief moment in the snow before her dirty claws reemerged and she tried in vain to pull herself up in the soft snow.

  It was easy to sidestep them and go back the way she’d come because the route south was blocked. Darlene was almost as slow as the undead, and that scared her. She would tire in this mess, while they could keep on stumbling along and eventually pounce on her.

  Another noise to her left made her realize that while she’d been moving south, a group of zombies had been tailing her. Now they were spread out in the street before her, some caught in the snowdrifts.

  “Fuck,” she whispered. Leaving like this had been ridiculous and suicidal. For what? Because of an expression Pierce had used? Really? Had he done anything to make her think that he was going to abandon her? Anything at all?

  “Stupid bitch,” she murmured to herself as she moved as quickly as she could. She’d grown up in Maine and knew how to traverse the snow well enough, but she’d never done it while being chased by zombies who wanted to rape her.

  Three long blocks later she had put some distance between her and her attackers but she was winded. She glanced back to see at least twenty of them following slowly and silently, the plodding of so many feet in the snow unnerving.

  “Pierce!” she yelled when she got in view of the library. He was on the roof, shoveling. She tried to run and wave at the same time.

  He glanced down at her but didn’t respond.

  “Help! I need the gate opened, I can’t climb it.”

  Pierce didn’t say a word, just stood above her with the shovel.

  Darlene pointed at the gate.

  She could hear them behind her, inching closer.

  “Hello?” she waved up at him. “A little help would be nice.” Don’t panic, don’t fucking panic.

  “I thought you were leaving,” he finally said.

  “Who said that?”

  “I said it. I watched you get dressed, steal food, and slip out.” Pierce waved the shovel in front of him. “You’d better keep moving before they fuck you.”

  “You sonofabitch! Open this fucking gate!”

  Pierce stooped and scooped some snow from the roof, depositing it on Darlene below. “Nope.”

  She felt something cold touch her face and swung around without looking, connecting with a dead face. Darlene staggered to the locked gate and willed her body to respond as she tried to climb.

  A zombie grabbed her ankle but she managed to kick it away, getting farther up the chain-link fence. She was halfway to the top and feeling confident that if she could just slip over the top, she’d be free. She’d deal with Pierce later – thinking about her Desert Eagle if she had to use it – but right now, she needed to simply survive.

  The sudden pain in her ankle was brutal. Darlene looked down to see a tall, thin male zombie sinking his rancid teeth into her flesh right through her boot.

  I’m bit, I’m fucking bit… after all that I’ve been through, killing my dad, getting raped by those militia jerk-offs, almost dying from a hundred other zombies and the living alike, to have it end here, hanging from a fence…

  Darlene pulled the Desert Eagle and fired a single shot into its head, satisfied that it would never bite someone again. Despite the throbbing from the bite, she managed to get the rest of the way over the fence and dropped down into a snow bank. Inches away, at least twenty zombies slammed against the fence, hands and arms reaching for her.

  She packed the bite – already red and black and bubbling – with snow.

  Her shot had alerted another score of undead to her position.

  “Pierce? Open the door.”

  He actually did open the door a crack on the other side of the parking lot, peeking out. “You were bit.”

  “It was just a scratch. I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I swear. Help me in, I think I busted my ankle.”

  “You were bit, you lying bitch. I saw it.” Pierce started to close the door.

  “Wait! Why are you doing this?”

  “Go to Hell, zombie.”

  “Asshole.” Darlene crawled behind a car in the parking lot to escape the prying eyes of the undead and so she could have her last meal of cold corn and soup, waiting for the poison to course through her veins and turn her into one of them.

  She hoped she had the strength to get the door open and see Pierce one last time.

  Chapter Twelve

  Frozen Blood

  Somehow she’d managed to crawl under the car and fallen asleep. She dreamed of fire, zombies and gunshots.

  Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the unnatural light. It was nighttime and freezing cold, but the car above her was aflame. Several bodies were alight near her, casting much-welcomed heat. Darlene pulled out her trusted Desert Eagle and scampered from beneath the car, careful to keep from being burned.

  Legs stiff from disuse and from the bone-chilling cold, she stood on wobbly legs and searched the parking lot. At least a dozen bodies littered the surrounding area, three cars and several bodies ablaze.

  She glanced up to the roof of the library and saw that her makeshift fire buckets had been used, spilling debris, flammables and oil down to the ground, where they’d caught fire.

  The fence to the parking lot had been ripped apart as well as the back door to the library. Darlene didn’t know which way to go. There were no zombies on the streets but that could change at any moment.

  Inside were likely more zombies, either attacking Pierce or already turning him. “Food and blankets are also inside,” she whispered. Despite her lying about her ankle being broken, it still hurt where she’d been bit. She needed to wash it soon. She fought back the thoughts of why she wasn’t undead yet.

  If she left now – and she thought that north was the only way passable to her – she would need supplies.

  “Inside it is,” she whispered. It had stopped snowing but the sky was a pillow of soft white and she knew it would begin again.

  The doorway was a black mouth, a stark contrast to the piles of white surrounding it. Darlene didn’t see movement as she approached.

  She wondered if Pierce was alive. Even though he’d left her for dead, refusing to open the gate or the door and save her from the zombie horde at her back, she still had to admit that the short ti
me they’d spent together had been good. The sex had been more than good, she mused. Being with another person had been wonderful, able to talk and laugh and help one another. “If I hadn’t tried to run out on him, would things be different?” She didn’t know.

  Her instinct had been Pierce was going to leave her, so she decided to go first instead of waking to find him gone. All that had done was bring back the undead to the library and destroy it, get her bitten and probably infected – although, when was this evil change supposed to take effect? – and get Pierce killed as well. Her plan to head south to safety had blown up in her face. Monumental failure.

  Swallowing her fear she stepped over the threshold and moved slowly down the hallway. The main room of the library, despite having a gaping hole in the ceiling where the weight of the snow had opened it, was warmer than outside. Not much, but enough to know the difference.

  Six bodies, ripped apart by bullets, were tossed across the floor. Darlene looked to the spiraling staircases but didn’t see anyone on the landing. None of the bodies were Pierce. He had to be upstairs.

  Her ankle wasn’t broken but it hurt like Hell as she ascended the steps. There was frozen blood on the steps and pieces of flesh. None of it was Pierce, as far as she knew.

  She peeked around the corner as soon as she got to the landing. Three undead stood in front of the door to the room that she’d occupied with Pierce up until she’d left. They weren’t slamming against the door, weren’t scratching or trying to break it down. Instead, they stared with unseeing eyes.

  Her machete still at her side, she decided to use it instead of her pistol in such close quarters. Regardless of whether Pierce was alive or not, she needed to get in there and gather the supplies.

  The first zombie took two chops to sever its neck before the others had even turned. Darlene stepped back and was glad the other two collided with one another in their haste to get at her. She swung and connected with an upraised arm.