Least Likely To Survive (2 page)

I pulled into the little strip mall and stopped the car so I could figure out what to do next.  I didn’t see anyone around, save for a couple of cars that were still parked and decided to go ahead and risk a little theft for the sake of survival.  I knew the cars might signify that people could still be in the shops, but also knew I would have to take my chances.

I was sitting right in front of the gun shop and after a quick look around, grabbed my tent pole as I exited the car.  I stopped long enough to lock the door, thinking I didn’t want to find any surprises waiting for me in the backseat upon my return, and dashed into the store. 

The little bell above ‘dinged’ as I opened the door, making sure to let everyone know in a 20 yard radius where I was. Just my luck, Salvatore himself was standing by the counter to greet me as I approached.  Of course, it was also my luck that the charming guy with a dark sense of humor was also now dead and hungry and heading right towards me.

As fast as I could, I jabbed his face with my tent pole and drove it into his right eye; figuring this tactic had served me well previously and should do so again. His eyeball oozed around the spike and dripped down his face as he hit his knees. This halted his advance enough that I had time to lean over and grab a machete off the counter, pray it was sharp, and try to cut off his head.  Now this was much more complicated, as decapitation is not nearly as easy as it looks in movies, but I did manage to sever most of his spinal column, causing him to be down for the count.

Out of breath at that point, I retracted the blade from his neck and reaching down, unclipped the keys from his belt loop, while trying to not get anything gross on me.  I then jumped over the counter, which at 5’4” turned out to be entirely ungraceful and humorous; landing hard on my ass on the other side.  I jumped to my feet and began to unlock as many guns as I could, while opening the ‘key only’ safe and locating the correct bullets for said guns.  As fate would have it, I had never actually fired or loaded a gun, but had played enough first person shooters to put a teenage boy to shame which made me confident in my ability to aim. 

Some years back I had worked in a pawn shop, which sold guns, so I had a good working knowledge of handling various rifles, shotguns and some hand guns.  I knew about magazine clips and shotgun shells, which as fate would have it, was now coming in handy.

Rapidly deducing that with my size I could carry quite a few guns, I grabbed the coolest looking holster I had ever seen and strapped it on. It was a black and an entirely too strappy contraption, with criss-crossed holsters in the back, two underarm handgun loops which reminded me of the kind you see on undercover cops, and additional dual holsters along the waist, with various compartments for clips and shells. I couldn’t help but feel a little like Rambo; except in my mind, I ended up as a female punk rock version of Brutus, from Popeye. 

Grinning at my ridiculous imagination, I perused the inventory and spotted a few things I absolutely had to have.  The first was a Mossberg Zombie Series 500 12 gauge chainsaw shotgun. I had to stop and drool a little; it was a sight for sore eyes.  How apropos.  I was going to be hunting zombies, so of course the logical girl side of me argued that we would need such a gun; especially one from the Zombie Series.  I had to wonder if the makers of such a fine weapon ever seriously thought it would be put to use fighting its namesake.  I grabbed it and as many boxes of shells as I could fit into my little compartments, and continued my oddly entertaining shopping spree.

My next few “purchases” ended up being a Benelli Super Black Eagle II, which I thought somewhat lofty at 28 inches for someone my height, but strapped it on anyway.  I worked my way over to the counter, where nestled under the glass was an array of handguns.  I had four spots to fill.  I ended up settling on two Smith and Wesson M&P Comps, a Ruger P95PR, and a Taurus 709FS.  I was aware the shotguns were 12 gauges, which would make the shells a little harder to carry, but I was fighting against people trying to eat me; when I shot someone, I didn’t want them getting back up.  I stuck with 9mm handguns just to make picking out ammo easier.  Besides, I would run out of bullets at some point, and would probably have to ditch these guns for new ones later.  I just needed these to get me to Texas, where surely I would find gun paradise.

I stuck the Ruger under my arm, and filled every pocket I could with bullets and shells.  “God Damn this shit’s heavy,” I muttered under my breath.  With all the ammo, I must’ve been carrying about fifty pounds of weaponry.  I was short, but stocky, and it was good thing I was.  A smaller girl would collapse under all the weight.  Being overweight, I might as well; but figured the muscle mass I had obtained from carrying my own extra weight everywhere would serve in my favor.  One thing was for sure; I was about to get a lot of cardio, and if I didn’t die, would probably end up looking damn good after the apocalypse.

Just as I was about to head for the door, I decided to grab the sword I had used to bring about Salvatore’s gruesome end; cautiously wiping the gore off the blade using his pant leg and slipped it into a sheath that had been displayed beneath the sword and secured it to my thigh, thinking it may come in handy later.

I slowly approached the door, and looked out the glass to see if I had anything to worry about upon my exit.  The parking lot still appeared empty, so I pulled open the door, cursing the tattle-tale little bell, and proceeded to the shop next door, which happened to be the grocer.  Aside from the gun shop, this was another main reason I chose this particular strip mall: During any sort of catastrophe, where do most people head?  Cosco and Cabella’s.  Knowing both would be overrun with harried zombies, which also meant thieves, my spidey senses knew the ethnic grocery store would have a much better chance at being deserted.  Low and behold I was right.

I entered the store, took a swift look around, and discovered I was alone.  Wasting no time, I grabbed some empty bags and got to work filling them with canned goods; smartly avoiding anything that may cause future digestive issues.  No one really needs to come down with a bout of diarrhea while running from zombies.

Unfortunately, my Spanish was not the best, and most of the food was unreadable to me.  Yet each package had pictures, which made it a little easier to figure out what I might need.  Loaded down with all I could carry; which would have surprised me had I not always been a firm believer in ‘breaking your arms is worth it in the name of making only one trip’, I ran behind the counter, pausing to seize some beef jerky; sure I would need the extra protein, and also snagged two cartons of Marlboro Lights and a few extra lighters.  End of the world or not, I doubted now was the best time to give up smoking if I could help it.  Besides, they were lights which are basically diet cigarettes so I felt somewhat justified.

After stocking myself up, I again approached the door to leave and was hit with a moment of brilliance:  In the parking lot stood Salvatore’s tricked out Hummer, complete with spare gas cans strapped to the back and I just happened to still have his keys on me.  I had no idea what awaited me, but knew that 4-wheel drive would surely be a good thing, and started to formulate a plot.  Somehow I had to reach the Hummer, throw all the food stuffs inside, go back to my car and grab my pack.  I took a few extra minutes to study the parking lot, which was still deserted, and calculate the distance between the two vehicles.  Thinking the whole production would probably take less than 60 seconds, I inhaled deeply, and ran. 

Just as I was getting through the doorway, ladled with my guns and shopping bags, I almost ran face first into a zombie that had been turning the corner during my assessment, effectively escaping my notice.  I had thankfully been carrying all my bags in my left hand, freeing my right to open the door; so I used said hand to unsheathe the Smith & Wesson from under my left arm and in true cowboy fashion: aimed and fired.

I felt the kickback shoot up my arm into my shoulder, and immediately regretted not grabbing something lighter in weight.  I had been so concerned with choosing weapons of maximum damage it had escaped my attention to think about the repercussions of firing.  Oh well, I would live, and maybe it would add to the cardio and address the weird underarm ‘chicken flap’ all women bemoan. 

I finished internally scolding myself in time to see that the zombie was only a couple of feet in front of me, and I had scored a direct hit between its eyes.  Shooting someone in the head at point blank distance is messy.  Brains and blood shot everywhere, spattering the window of the store, and the sidewalk.  But it worked out nicely as the zombie collapsed to the ground in a motionless pile of grey matter and blood.

Reholstering the gun, I hauled ass over to the Hummer. I hit the power locks, disabling the alarm, and threw my bags into the backseat.  Leaving the door open, I then dodged around the back to the other side where my car sat.  Opening the door, I leaned inside and grabbed my pack from the front passenger seat and not bothering to close the door behind me, turned and bolted back to the Hummer.  I scurried into the vehicle as fast as my little legs would climb; closing and locking the door behind me.  I shoved the key in the ignition, and felt the rumble of the engine coming to life.  For a split second I mentally chided myself for being about to drive a car without an interlock, while considering the legal ramifications if I was caught.  Then I remembered that it was the end of the world and none of that crap mattered anymore.  What did matter was making it to the other side of this disaster in one piece; one way or another.

After assuring myself that all doors and windows; including the back hatch were securely closed and locked, I stopped to take stock of my new getaway car and supplies.  Glancing around the dash, I couldn’t help but thank Salvatore for his good sense to customize the beast with everything a girl could possibly need.  Black, brushed chrome finish, tinted windows, blue lights on the under carriage, which was a fun concept, but completely useless.  Gas tank was full, and to my delight, I also noted this was also a hybrid.  The stereo had an IPod adapter/charger, GPS, (which I highly doubted would be of any use) and various other accoutrements only a car-savvy person would be able to tell me about.  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that in the far back sat a generator, power plug for the engine, another box of dried goods, and of course, a case of Corona.  Apparently Salvatore had an apocalypse plan too, although his obviously didn’t go as well as he’d hoped.

Out of curiosity, I reached over to the passenger side and peeked into the glove box, where to my surprise and delight sat an ounce of what looked like Sour Diesel. Damn, I was really going to miss civilization but at least I was giving myself a pretty decent send off so far.

Chapter 2:  On My Way.

I began to remove the gun harness and the sword, so as to not accidently shoot myself while driving, and proceeded to buckle my seatbelt.  Just as it clicked into place, I looked up, and to my right, I saw a woman running with a herd of zombies on her tail.  She saw the Hummer with me inside and made us her new destination.

I sat and stared as she was still a good 50 yards out; trying to decide if it was worth the risk to take on a passenger, when her shoe caught on a loose piece of concrete and she flew head over heels into the gravel.  Unfortunately for her, it gave the group of zombies chasing her just enough time to close in, and I couldn’t help but gape as they began to rip hungrily into her flesh.

Never in all my 29 years had I ever seen something so horrific.  They descended upon her as a group of angry lions would a gazelle, and I watched open mouthed as they pulled back with chunks of flesh and pieces of organs.  It was about the time I saw a little girl wearing a Hello Kitty jacket and light up sneakers pull up with a strand of the woman’s intestine that I decided to get the fuck out of there.  It was also about that time one of them noticed the noise from the engine and was starting to advance in my direction.  I put the car into gear and backed out of the spot, tires squealing as I made a left back onto 88
th
. 

I was headed west, towards I-25, where I already knew I would be heading south.  While cruising towards Washington Street I rummaged through my pack and unearthed my hot pink, bedazzled IPod, and plugged it into the stereo, scrolling through my playlists while keeping one eye on the road.  I stopped at my favorite one, and hit play; immediately relaxing as Mumford and Sons filled the speakers.  Damn, they would never make another album, never play another show, and were probably dead by now. Fuck, that’s a depressing realization.

Now that I was driving, I was free to truly assess what was happening to the world.  Everyone I knew, all my friends and coworkers; all gone.  I would never get to see any of the people I knew again.  This was a small list, as I had no siblings and both my parents were victims of their own self-abuse.

Needless to say, mine was not a happy childhood, but I suppose living through the fucked up shit I had prepared me for this nonsense.  Although, who actually thought we would need to be prepared for zombies?  I certainly didn’t, and yet was grateful for all the Call of Duty I had spent so much time playing.  Something told me it would make picking up a gun and taking down strangers a little easier.  I was young, (well,
youngish
) and knew that cowering in my tiny apartment waiting for help that probably wouldn’t ever arrive was not how I wanted to go out.  I had spent my entire life just trying to survive, and avoid disaster when I could.  I had made it out of the hell that had been my adolescence, and was bound and determined to live through this fucking mess.