Dying To Live & Fighting To Live-Book One and Book Two (Zombie Overload Series) (11 page)

I hide my big
shit-eating grin before he looks back at me. He clears his throat and
says, "Good job. Who taught you to shoot, anyway?"

"Video games."
I say and turn my back to him and get into position, my butt sticking
out, waiting for him to do the same. I silently laugh when I imagine
the look on his face. And it's true. That's the only training I've
had with a gun, but, you better believe I'm damn good on those games!

I feel his butt
against my back and we start off. I expect the rest to come for us
now that they heard some noise. We turn the corner and step over the
zombie. So far, none of the few open doors hold any surprises. In
this hall though, they are all open so it takes us a lot longer,
going slower, checking every room and closing the doors as we clear
them. Two doors away we hear grunting and things being knocked over.
Slowly and cautiously, we approach the door. Jake turns slightly and
puts his hand up telling me to stay. He spins to the other side of
the door and I roll my eyes.
Drama, anyone?

I move closer to my
side of the door and raise my gun. He counts off to three, then spins
into the room. What we see leaves us both speechless.

The zombie-man was
naked! Bare ass naked!
What the hell?
Jake looks at me as I
look at him. He mouths one word, "Showers." So he was in
the showers when he was bit.
Alrighty then!
Wait.
They
have showers here?

I turn back to the
door and keep watch while Jake takes care of him. I look left,
zombie. I look right, zombie. He's closest. I raise my gun and shoot.
Perfect shot. Turning back to the left, I aim and fire, taking down
another man in army fatigues. So that's four. Jake said there were
five.

Jake comes up behind
me, puts his huge hands on my hips, and pulls me back. He whispers in
my ear to be quiet. I do, and I listen, trying to hear what it is
Jake hears. I hear nothing. And then I do. Sounds like footsteps
above our heads. We both look up. Jake pushes me behind him and leads
us out of the room and down the hall to a door that, once he opens
it, reveals stairs. The stairs go up about fifteen steps to a
landing. (
I'm not counting. Just a guess.)
When we are on the
landing, Jake stops and turns to me.

"Did you notice
anything funny about those footsteps we heard?" He asks me in a
quiet voice.

I nod my head and
say, "Yeah. They sounded like they belonged to someone still
alive." And they did. No shuffle or stagger to them.

Jake continues up
the stairs with his gun at the ready. I follow, copying him. At the
top of the stairs is another door and Jake slowly opens it. Moving
into the hall, he motions me forward. I follow him out of the
stairwell and quietly shut the door. He leads us to the room where we
heard the footsteps. Slowly he turns the doorknob.

Before he opens it,
he calls out, "Hello? If you're alive, so are we so don't
shoot."

We hear, "Ohmygod!
Ohmygod! I don't have a gun. Please help me!"

Jake opens the door
all the way and walks in. I follow and shut the door behind me. I see
a very young man, boy really, in army fatigues hiding against the
wall between a fridge and a cabinet. He squeezes out and shakily
comes to a standing position. His eyes are wild, darting everywhere.
His body is shaking uncontrollably. As I move closer, the smell of
shit and piss fills the air, making me gag. That boy is scared!

"I...I...I
thought I was going to die here. My friends wanted to eat me! Why did
they want to eat me?" He finished in a high-pitched squeal. Jake
slaps his face.
Seriously.
Jake actually slapped him. Like
right out of the movies. SMACK! And, amazingly, the kid seems to
finally focus on Jake.
Wow. So it really works. Awesome!

Jake, taking back
his status of Sergeant Major, speaks to him with authority, "Alright,
Private, turning into a hysterical woman," He stops and looks at
me, wincing. He mouths 'sorry' to me before continuing. "is not
going to help you stay alive. Now, where is your gun?"

The kid says, "I
dropped it when I ran."

Jake waits a few
seconds but the kid says nothing more. Jake sighs. "You're in an
armory, Son. It's full of weapons, yet you run into the one room that
doesn’t have any. Why?"

The kid drops his
head, explaining in a voice so quiet I can barely hear, "I was
scared. I wasn't thinking straight."

Boy if that's not
the understatement of the year!
Jake steps back from him and
gives the kid orders to shower, change and come with us. The kid
eagerly agrees then stops on his way toward the door. He looks back
at us and we stare at him.

"Uh, can you
come with me? I mean, just in case?" He asks us with a hint of
embarrassment and shame.

Jake has apparently
had enough of the kid and tells him hell no, he's got to get weapons
together. I feel bad for him. He's just a terrified kid so I tell
them that I will go with him. Jake lets out a frustrated grunt and,
shaking his head, stomps out of the room.

I follow the kid to
a locker where he pulls out a fresh pair of fatigues. Looking at the
other fatigues stacked in there, I have another one of my brilliant
ideas. Grabbing a pair of black ones like Jake's that I think will
fit, I follow the kid to the showers, relieved to see there were a
couple showers that were enclosed, in addition to the large open room
wall of showers.

The kid, ok I'm
tired of calling him 'the kid' so I ask him his name. He tells me
it's Private Sawyer." I give a short laugh and roll my eyes.

"Look, Kid, I
hardly think you need to address yourself as anything other than your
first name now, but if it makes you happy, great. Do so. But
I
want your
first
name. K?"

He gives me a little
smile and says, "Yeah, guess you're right. My first name is Tom.
Go ahead and laugh. Everyone else does. My parents thought it would
be cute. Never had anyone else say so, but it sure attracted all the
bullies when I was in school."

"Mine's
Canada." I think I’m the last person to make fun of
someone's name. Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against
Canada, the country. In fact, I loved it when my parents took us
there on vacation one year. But for a girl in the United States? Not
so much.

I ask him if he will
be ok now, since we have the door closed and he tells me he thinks
so. He starts unbuckling his belt but before he can drop his pants, I
turn and make a fast exit to the enclosed showers.
Wow!
Alrighty, then.

I step into the
first shower room and practically tear off my clothes. Feeling the
water on my skin, I can't help but almost cry with the knowledge that
this may very well be my last warm shower when the electricity goes
out, and you know it will. We will probably have to boil and pour
water into a tub.
Oh joy!

A mesh bag hanging
from the shower wall to my right catches my eye and I'm as excited as
a kid on Christmas morning when I see what's inside. Soap! Shampoo!
And even conditioner!
Oh, Heaven!

I lather until I'm
covered with soap and shampoo. I rinse off, then coat my hair with
conditioner. As I give it time to soak in, I just stand under the
water, absorbing as much of it as I can into my skin. I do my best
not to moan from the intense pleasure, but I guess a few slip out
anyway. I wash the conditioner out then I finish my shower by washing
my face. I dry off and brush my hair out with my fingers. Putting on
the fatigues, I'm surprised at how comfortable they are. And wow!
Talk about pockets. This thing has tons of little pockets, big
pockets, and even some in-between. I even find a slot for my gun.
So
cool!
Sticking my gun in the built-in holster, I walk out of the
shower. I wonder to myself if they have socks and boots here, too,
and decide to ask Tom. As I get near the open shower room, I hear the
water still running.
Damn, Boy! I know you were dirty but, come on
already!
I stand in the short hallway and call out to him. He
doesn’t respond. After calling out again, I step inside the
room, bewildered when I don't see him standing under the shower. In
fact, I don't see him at all!

A small noise behind
me and I immediately whip out the gun as I spin around. I found Tom.

He's coming from the
end of the hall where I had just left, shuffling slowly toward me. So
it
wasn't
me that was moaning while I was in the shower. I
guess I should have stuck around when he was undressing. He has a
bite in his upper thigh. I thought it was just a tear in his pants.
But I was wrong. So wrong. I look into his young but dead face and
feel sick. He was just a
kid!
So young, so scared, so sweet. I
scream in anger from knowing I have to kill him. He is about five
feet from me when I finally pull the trigger, tears streaming down my
face. I lean my back against the wall and sink to the floor, sobbing.

Jake runs in and
almost trips over me. He glances at me, then at the corpse on the
floor. Dropping to the floor next to me, he wraps his arms around me
and pulls me close. He holds me tight, hiding his face in my hair. I
know he's covering up his own grief by comforting me, and I think
he's using me to comfort himself, as well. I realize in this moment
that Jake really did care for that kid. A lot. He may act big and
bad, but he does have a heart. I respect and like him a whole lot
more now.

Finally, Jake
releases me and he looks down at my bare feet and starts laughing,
one of those pain-filled wobbly laughs. I look down and join him when
I see my own bare feet.
Why is it funny?
Hell if I know.
Just one of those moments.

Jake stands and,
grasping my hands, pulls me up. Leading me back to the lockers, he
opens a bin perfectly stacked with shiny black boots. He throws me a
couple pairs of black socks and I slip a pair on, stuffing the other
into one of my many awesome pockets. Jake excuses himself to use the
restroom. I stand, taking a few steps after putting on the boots and
sigh with relief.
So.
Freaking.
Awesome!
Ok,
fine. I admit it. I feel and look like a total bad ass now. Spying
some strips of fabric and, unable to resist, I grab one. Wrapping it
around my forehead and tying it in the back, I look in the full-size
mirror. I make an awesome looking Rambo chick!
Yeah.
I look
good!

I hear a snicker and
stop abruptly in the middle of a pose. I gulp. I forgot about Jake! I
look over and he's standing against the wall, arms crossed, grinning
at me.
Ugh!
I rip off the strip of cloth and toss it on the
floor. I can't believe I just did all those stupid Rambo
impersonations in front of him.
I am such an idiot!
I can feel
the fire burning my face.
Humiliation 101, I'm the professor.
I'll teach you well.

Trying to act tough
and like I don't care what he thinks, I straighten my spine and storm
past him and out the door, hearing him follow and still snickering.
My face flames with renewed intensity and it pisses me off. Throwing
my head back, I stomp even faster down the hall. Mumbling under my
breath where I'd like to shove his head. Apparently, he can hear me
because he just laughs louder.
Remember that respect I said I had
for him?
Well, I take it back.
Asshole!
I storm
past a pile of stuff, not giving it much attention in my anger, and
am halfway down the hall when I hear Jake calling me.

"Hey, you going
with me or staying here.......Rambo?"
I hate him!
I turn
around and finally realize the pile of 'stuff' is actually a pile of
guns. Different sizes and types of handguns, rifles, shotguns.
Sweet!
There are other things there, but the only ones I know for sure are
the boxes of ammo. He hands me a whole box of ammo and I slip it into
the thigh pocket. Reloading his rifle, he throws a bunch of ammo in a
pocket, and adds a handgun to his fatigue holster.
How fair is
that?
Two guns and I get one?
Jake turns his back and I
snatch up another handgun and some more ammo. Hiding them in my
fatigue pockets, I have a look of total innocence when he turns
around.

He pulls four large
black canvas bags next to the cache
(see me using military terms!)
and starts putting shotguns in one, rifles in another. I grab another
bag and put all the handguns and their ammo inside. He puts all the
other things into the last bag. Handing me the bag with the handguns,
he grabs the other three (show off) and leads the way to the door.
Again, he listens first, then opens the door slowly. Motioning to me,
we run to the Hummer, put the bags inside and he tells me to drive.
When we reach the large doors, I stop so he can jump out and open
them. I pull through and the outside light fades as the door shuts
behind us.