Least Likely To Survive (7 page)

I was entirely mystified over the shortage, and somewhat abundance of time I was now faced with.  It was a very real possibility I wouldn’t live to see another sunset, and yet here we were, still alive and trying to get somewhere safe.  Would we make it?  I had no idea.  No fucking semblance of a clue what was going to happen, or how this shit got started in the first place for that matter.

I had a strong feeling all along the news wasn’t giving us the whole story, for if it had been, things might have gone down a little differently.  But seeing as how I was pretty much at the bottom of the totem pole, I would probably never have any real answers as to how this all came about.

What I did know for sure, was that zombies were taking over.  I never really thought I would ever see the day, or that a person, a real person could be overtaken with any sort of virus to cause rage and cannibalism.  How the fuck did we get here? 

I was aware I wasn’t exactly the greatest person on the planet, I had my fair share of faults and fucked up things I’d been party to; but I didn’t think I deserved to go out like this; most of us probably didn’t.  I knew this line of thinking was neither here nor there; as we were here and this was the situation at hand.

This line of reasoning and inner dialogue continued into much of the day.  We hadn’t said much in the last few hours; what was there to say really?  Why go through the whole ‘getting to know you’ shit when there was a sobering chance one or both of us wouldn’t be alive much longer?  I didn’t see much point in learning more about my happenstance companion as I highly doubted we would both make it out alive.  No sense in getting attached just so when he was bitten it stabbed the knife a little deeper into my chest. 

No, there was no sense at all.  It occurred to me I would probably spend what was left of my life alone, which was actually okay, seeing as how it wasn’t much different than how I had spent most of it anyway.

I was looking down at my hands studying my manicure, bemoaning the loss of my nail salon when I looked over at Jack.  Here he was, a flesh and blood person sitting right next to me, and I couldn’t help but think about the absurdity that we met under these circumstances.  I had to wonder if I would have acted any differently had we met another way.  If we had bumped into each other at a grocery store, or I had spotted him outside some hip club.  I probably would’ve been too shy to do more than stare awkwardly, and yet now that was the furthest thought from my mind.

Several hours later, I was seeing signs for Lubbock and Abilene, and knew things were about to get complicated.  I reached over and turned down the stereo and looked at the gas gauge.  “We’re gonna need to stop for gas soon,” I looked over at him, concern filling my words.

Pulling himself back from his own thoughts, he too looked to the gauge; “Yeah, I suppose we should start looking for a station.”

I began assessing our surroundings.  We were still outside of anything remotely urban, but there were more and more road signs, and I could see little clutches of suburbia scattered here and there.  We passed a few more signs, until we caught sight of one advertising gas and food.

I pointed at the sign, and the truck stop it was referring to, which was just outside Lubbock, “That’s probably our best bet.  The further we get, the more people there’ll be.”  I turned to look at him to get his take on things.

Clearing his throat, I watched him squint from behind his Aviators, “Yeah.  That one it is.”

He turned the wheel to the right, guiding the Hummer onto the off ramp that would lead us to the truck stop.  Reaching the stop sign, he jerked the wheel right, coasting us down into the parking lot.  He stopped the car, and we both anxiously studied our surroundings.

There were two cars and a semi in the lot, but no other vehicles.  I figured that meant it was likely we would run into to trouble, as I doubted they’d been abandoned.  I unbuckled my seatbelt, and reached to the floorboard to grab the guns.  Heaving the holster into my lap, I proceeded to strap myself in, and checked to make sure each gun was fully loaded and ready to go.  I grabbed the short sword and secured the sheath to my thigh.  I wasn’t looking forward to this, but the truck was going through gas faster than I’d have liked, and both cans were emptied into the tank that morning.

I looked up and watched as Jack was finishing the task of loading the shotgun and handgun I had lent him that morning.  I felt a little better after seeing him handle the weapons.  He knew what shells to use, and was apparently adept with the magazine cartridge.  I just hoped he could fire one as accurately as he could load it.  He clicked the magazine back into place, and checking to see that the safety was off, looked up at me and smiled.  “You ready?”  The smile on his face reminded me of the look someone gets right after they say, ‘”Here, hold my beer.”’  You just knew something stupid and dangerous was about to occur.

I held back my sigh of dread; I really wasn’t ready for this at all.  It had only been 24 hours since I’d left my apartment and already I was tired of killing. I tried to hide my fear behind a plan of action. “Ready as I’ll ever be.  Okay, let’s pull up to the pump, run a card through the scanner, hope that it works, and I’ll pump gas while you be the lookout, K?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, “What if the card doesn’t work?”

I could feel my face scrunch as I thought about that.  It hadn’t really occurred to me that the card wouldn’t work, but the place was deserted, and seeing as how it was still late morning, I couldn’t really tell if the place had power.  “Well, then I guess Plan B is we run inside and turn on the pump.”  I looked around the parking lot at the other vehicles scattered about.  “Judging by the cars and that truck, I doubt we’re alone, but we should have enough ammo to take out any threats.”

He was quiet for a moment as he surveyed the area and weighed our options.  We both knew the card was the best case scenario, but the whole thing was a crapshoot.  “Okay.”  He put the gear back into drive and eased us over to the first pump, making sure the coast in front of us was clear in the event we needed a fast getaway.  He lined us up, and turned off the engine.  We both took audibly deep breaths, and opened our doors.

Wasting no time, I hopped down from the Hummer, and closed my door.  I raced around the front heading for the gas tank and the pumps, as he passed me trying to cover as much of the vehicle as possible.  I reached the tanks, and my heart sank when I saw that the screen was blank.  Fuck, the pump was off.  Some asshole had probably hit the emergency OFF switch in a panic.  Yeah, like a fucking gas fire was really the most pressing of concerns.

“The fucking power is off, we have to go inside,” I yelled over to Jack as quietly as I could.  He ran back around the Hummer to stand next to me and also checked out the screen.  I was slightly miffed that he felt the need to double check, but quickly set that aside for a later time.

After coming to the same conclusion I had, he cocked his head in the direction of the building, “Let’s go.”

Chapter 5:  Gas Run.

We fell into a brisk walk, and I reached into the holsters at my waist and pulled out the Smith and Wessons.  I thought about the shotgun for a minute, but quickly dismissed the thought as I would probably be firing at close range and needed to have better control.  We reached the front doors, and briefly glanced through the glass.  The lights were on, and the slushy machine was blinking at us merrily, but I didn’t see anyone around.  “Doesn’t look like anyone’s in there, but I can’t see behind the shelves,” I whispered, chancing a glance at Jack and catching his nod of agreement.

Seeing both my hands full, he used his free hand to open the door, and we stepped in as cautiously and quietly as we could.  Unfortunately, this door too, had a bell that jingled in excitement, announcing our arrival.  As the beeping ceased, the thought occurred to me that if I ever came across whoever it was that came up with the bright idea to put a bell on every goddamned door I opened; I would throttle them. 

Before we even had a chance to head over to the register, a zombie came tearing out from behind a Doritos display.  It was obviously the clerk, as her little green smock was a dead giveaway, and the entrails dangling from her face didn’t make it look any better.  She looked about late thirties, and was probably pretty, in that ‘small town, frizzy haired’ sort of way.  Where I was from, we called it ‘frumpy’. 

While conducting my assessment of the unfortunate woman in front of me, Jack had pulled the Ruger from his waistband and fired a shot directly into her face before she could get too close.  I couldn’t help but admire his accuracy.

I didn’t hide my admiration as I asked, “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

He glanced at me, before looking back at the clerk, who had crumpled to the ground like an empty bag of chips, and was now leaking blood everywhere.  “I grew up on a farm.” It was becoming clear that Jack Jones was a man of few words.  I had to admit it was slightly disappointing as every word he uttered seemed to glide over the empty space like honey, but I guess considering the circumstances was better than being stuck with a chatterbox.

“Huh.”  I was somewhat surprised to hear of his humble beginnings; I never would have pegged him for a farm boy.

We didn’t stop to chat, but continued to the counter, where he nimbly hopped over it.  Yeah, I was mildly jealous at the skill with which he had cleared it, remembering my own only technically successful counter hop from the day before.

He looked around at the register frantically before asking in his low growl, “Which button is it?”

“How should I know?” I answered while scanning the store for the owners of the abandoned vehicles in the parking lot.  They may have just been spare parts by that time judging by the condition of the clerk, but I figured better safe than sorry.

Continuing his search, “Well haven’t you ever worked in a gas station before?”  He pulled every knob, and had pushed every button to no avail.

“Why the fuck would you think I worked in a gas station?  Do I have a sign that says ‘Gas Station Attendant’ around my neck or something?!”  I turned around abruptly forgetting my careful surveillance.  I shot daggers at him while planting my hands firmly on my hips.  I couldn’t believe the audacity of this guy
assuming
I’d worked in a gas station.  “Isn’t there one labeled ‘pumps’ or something?”

Ignoring my outburst, he glanced around for a few more seconds, before finally finding the lever to turn the pumps on.  He flicked it into the ‘on’ position, and smiled up at me triumphantly, “Found it!”

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at him.  “
This guy.”
  I grumbled as I shook my head.

He jumped just as gracefully back over the counter and we headed back for the door.  Before we could reach it, I spotted someone else over his shoulder.  It must be the trucker, as he had on a trucker’s hat and a ripped up flannel shirt.  He was the biggest bastard I had seen in a while.  Like Gladiator big; I wondered if a bullet would even be enough as he growled and ambled our way.  Before he could reach Jack, I raised my right arm, aimed, and fired a shot straight into his eye.  He dropped like a sack of potatoes, and I was pretty sure I felt the floor tremble.

Jack looked at the behemoth in surprise, then back at me.  “Nice shot.”

I shrugged, trying to hide the blush of pride creeping up my cheeks.  “Thanks.  I keep hitting everyone in the eye; I don’t know what that’s about, but it’s working for me so far.”

He chuckled and shook his head a little as we continued to the door.  Reaching it, we thrust ourselves back outside and started towards the Hummer.  I got to the pump, and looked up at the screen and sighed in relief that all appeared to be back in business as far as our ploy to get gas was concerned.  Lifting the handle, I shoved it into the gas tank, and let it fill up.

While the numbers on the screen rose steadily, I joined Jack in the vigilant watch of the lot.  So far, we had encountered and taken out the clerk and the trucker, but those two vacant cars were troubling.  Had they been eaten by the others, or were they just not out yet?  My question was answered as five more zombies came running at us.  We didn’t waste any time saddling up to meet them halfway.

Jack hefted the shotgun to his shoulder, and took a shot at what appeared to be a teenage girl who was snarling through the blood dripping off her chin.  He got her in the chest, blowing a hole straight through, and down she went.

I turned to my left, and noticed a man and a woman fast approaching me.  Leaving Jack to handle the other two, I turned my attention to the couple who wanted me for lunch.  They looked like your average, run of the mill Middle American couple.  I noticed they were both wearing khakis; she had a light blue polo t-shirt, and gladiator sandals on, and he was sporting a fetching yellow button down.  Who the fuck would pair gladiator sandals with khaki Capri’s?  No wonder she was now an infected cannibal set on an Angie Appetizer; anyone with fashion sense that bad just didn’t have what it takes to survive the apocalypse.

I shook my head at the tragedy of her ensemble while I palmed one of my Wessons and fired a shot into her belly.  She screamed out her rage at me as she collapsed to the pavement.  I directed my attention to her husband, and fired another shot, which clipped his shoulder.  He didn’t go down, and the bullet only pissed him off more.