Sometimes We Ran (Book 1) (4 page)

I sincerely hoped I hadn’t walked into a trap.

Claire and I headed for some shelter at what used to be a shopping mall. She gripped my hand tightly. She was a lot weaker than she let on. I estimated she was at the edge of malnutrition. A couple of times I felt like I was dragging her, she was so weak. I had to stop a couple of times when she looked like she was going to pass out. I gave her some water from my supply, and she drank it down heartily till the whole bottle was gone. The water helped a little. At least some color returned to her face.

The mall didn’t hold out much hope. It looked like a bomb had gone off and destroyed everything in sight. Most of the glass windows were broken, and the contents of the stores were piled in the parking lot. “I already checked it out,” Claire said. “There’s not much left.”

We continued to walk along, looking for a safe place. Frankly, I thought the mall was too exposed. Anything on two or four legs could walk on in and feed to their heart’s content. However, one look at Claire told me we needed to find a place soon. The poor girl was slowly fading from hunger. She needed to eat, like, right now. I stopped at what used to be a jewelry store. The glass was cracked and broken in spots, but large areas were still intact. “This might work,” I said to Claire. She nodded in agreement. “Stay in the doorway where I can see you. I’ll check it out.” She nodded again, and leaned on a nearby counter.

I got my rifle ready, and slowly walked inside. The place was a total wreck. Most of the cases were smashed and jewelry and glass littered the floor. The store had been looted repeatedly during the outbreak. The coast looked clear, so I walked further inside. I walked slowly, trying not to make any noise that would attract any bad guys. The showroom was clear, but I still had to check out the back. I shot a quick glance towards Claire, and she flashed me an okay sign. She was hunched over and fading fast. I knew I had to speed up the pace a little.

At the back of the store, was a small bathroom and office/storage area. I pressed my ear against the closed office door to listen for any tell-tale zombie noises. Not hearing any, I turned the knob and pushed into the office, expecting to see the worst.

I found nothing but a dark, empty room. There was a faint smell of disinfectant in the air, with a tinge of death. Jewelry littered the floor, looking a little like a starry night. As my eyes adjusted to the darkened environment, I saw an office chair and a small desk with stacks of money piled in the middle. Looks like someone was trying to bug out when the end came. With the office cleared, that just left the bathroom. I approached slowly. The door was open slightly, and a really bad smell was coming from the dark room. This did not look good. I paused for a minute to listen for any danger. It was so quiet I could hear my heart beating in my chest.

The smell turned out to be the owner. He shot himself. The gun, a small pistol, was lying at his feet. He had put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Shot himself while sitting on a toilet. What a way to go out. A closer inspection revealed why he offed himself. A zombie had ripped a good portion of his neck out. He must have known he was doomed and shot himself. I backed out of the bathroom, closing the door on my way out. The bathroom became his tomb.

I walked back into the showroom to retrieve Claire. She had disappeared.

“Claire, where are you?” I whispered loudly. I wondered if she had left. Maybe she didn’t trust me after all. I was looking all around the showroom, when I heard some moaning. I spun around, looking for the source of the sound. It sounded like a zombie looking for a quick meal. In the process of looking for my adversary, I tripped over Claire lying on the floor.

The moaning was not coming from something dead. It was Claire. She must have passed out and fallen into the showroom. Poor girl. She must have held on for as long as she could.

I carefully secured my rifle, and picked up Claire. I couldn’t believe how light she was. As I scooped her up, she babbled incoherently. I think she called me Dad a few times.

I cleared a spot and laid her down. I found something to raise her feet. It was the only cure I knew for someone passing out. I checked her pulse at her neck; steady, but a little slow. Her skin was very white, almost the color of paper. Her full lips had taken on a weird purplish bruise color.

She looked like she was about to die. I unzipped my backpack, and prepared to force some food down her throat.

After what seemed like an eternity, she came around. I helped her up slowly, as she still looked a little woozy.

“What happened?”

“You passed out. Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, don’t think so. I think I need some food.”

I pulled out some gas station beef jerky, my peanut butter supply, and some crackers. For dessert, I settled on an oatmeal pie with cream filling. As I unpacked what might have been her first good meal in weeks, she eyed it like a full steak dinner with salad bar. I’d never seen a human salivate like that. She looked a little like those things outside that were trying to kill us. I pushed the image of a Claire-zombie out of my brain.

I ripped some of the beef jerky into smaller pieces, and offered her a piece. “You have to eat slowly. If you eat too fast, you’ll get sick.” She nodded, and I fed her the dry, salty snack. She chewed slowly and thoughtfully. For the first time all night, Claire started to look human. At least her lips were returning to their proper color. “That tastes good,” she said.

Claire must have been hungry. My experience with the beef jerky was that it smelled like ass and tasted terrible. The meal continued for about thirty minutes. She seemed to get stronger with each bite. As she ate, she even started to smile and laugh a little bit. The oatmeal pie did the most good. By the time she finished it, she looked well enough to travel. I breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t going to die in my care. Not this night, at least.

After the meal, I handed her a bottle of water from my shrinking supply. She took a few swigs.
“Thanks. I thought I was going to die. I was so hungry,” she said, drawing out the “so” into a few extra syllables for emphasis. She leaned back against one of the jewelry counters.

I put the food back in my backpack. “Don’t mention it.” I instinctively put some distance between us on the floor. I still didn’t trust her.

She noticed. “Still don’t trust me, huh?”

I tried not to look too threatening. “Sorry. Force of habit. I’ve had some bad experiences with survivors lately.”

She smiled. “That’s okay. I’m not sure about you either. Thanks for the food, anyway.” She leaned her head against the counter, and closed her eyes. “I’m so tired. I think I could sleep for a year.”

I was pretty tired as well, but there was no way I was going to go to sleep first. I had to keep an eye on my new friend.

By the time we finished eating and getting to know each other, the sun had started to go down. It was too late to get back on the road. We would have to spend the night in the store. Things get much worse at night. That’s when the dogs come out to rule the roads.

Claire insisted on leaving. “Really, I feel fine. Let’s go,” she said in a perky voice.

“No. We are going to have to stay the night here.”

“Why? I’m okay. You saved me. Shouldn’t we move on?” she said lightly touching my arm.

We? Are we a “we,” now?
I still didn’t know if I wanted her traveling with me. She might slow me down or get me killed or turned.

“No, things get really bad at night. We’ll have to stay here.” I tried to sound like I knew what I was doing.

Claire seemed to accept this. “How are we going to do this? Someone has to keep a lookout.”

“You are going to sleep. I’ll keep a lookout.”

Claire fiddled with the half-empty bottle of water on the counter. “How are you going to sleep? It’s going to be a long night.”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll catch a catnap or two while I watch.”

She seemed convinced. “Okay, sounds good.” Truth is, I needed some sleep as well. However, I knew Claire was in no shape to keep a lookout. She still looked pretty scared and woozy. If I handed her my rifle, she was liable to shoot herself or me in the butt. During the outbreak, I had trained myself to sleep lightly and keep myself alert in case something nasty walked up and said, “ hello.” You learned a lot of new tricks when your undead neighbors were chasing you. The only downside was a gnawing exhaustion that seemed to follow you like a bad smell. Couple that with near starvation, loneliness, and constantly being scared, and it’s a wonder more people didn’t take the easy way out like the poor devil in the jewelry store bathroom. I didn’t bother to tell Claire about our guest who committed suicide by gun. I didn’t know how she was going to react. We could both smell it, but between how she smells and the general environment of the strip mall, the smells all blend together. I probably didn’t smell like a bed of roses either. Keeping yourself clean is pretty difficult when you’re running from hoards of people trying to eat you.

We cleared a spot on the floor away from the window so Claire could sleep. I found a pillow. It was a silky little thing that the jeweler used to show rings to prospective customers. I also found a case cover that served as a blanket. Just like home.

I handed her the pillow. “Thanks.” She put it to her face. “Wow, a real pillow. I haven’t had a pillow for a while.” All at once she seemed so small. She must have had it rough.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, pensively.

“Sure.”

“I know you have to keep a lookout, but can you sit near me for a while?”

“Will it make you feel safe?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Okay, but when you go to sleep, I’ll have to move over by the window.”

“Cool.” She looked relieved. She lay down and I covered her up. I sat down next to her on the ground with my rifle across my lap.

All of a sudden, she bolted upright. “You not going to try and rape me or anything are you? The last guy who tried that got his nuts knocked into his throat.”

I laughed a little bit. She was a real firecracker. “No. I am not going to try and rape you. I already raped today before I met you. I’m a little tired,” I said, attempting a joke.

“Very funny,” she snorted, as she lay back down.

She lay quiet for a moment. I thought she was finally going to sleep.

“John?”

“Yes Claire.”

“I want to thank you for saving me. I think if you didn’t come along, I’d be dead now.” I felt her hand moving. I thought for a second she was going for the rifle, but she only wanted to hold my hand.

“You’re welcome. You need to sleep now.”

“Okay. I will.”

A few minutes passed. “John?”

“Yes Claire?” This girl needed to sleep.

“You’re going to be here when I wake up?”

“I will be here in the morning. Now you need to sleep.”

“Okay. It’s just that sometimes people like to leave me.”

“I won’t do that. Now, go to sleep.”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes, and drifted off.

Claire was right. It was a long night.

After she went to sleep, I took up a new defensive position by the front window. I picked a place where I could keep an eye on the street and Claire at the same time. It was very dark outside, but I could hear dogs howling in the distance. I hoped they weren’t zombie-dogs. Most of the dogs I encountered on the road had been turned, so I didn’t hold out much hope. With the human race on its last legs, our new canine overlords may yet inherit the earth.

Claire was stirring. I could tell she was dreaming. I hoped it was a good one. All my dreams lately have been real humdingers. Maybe it was a falling dream. I’ve had a few of those lately. I don’t know why, as I never had a falling dream until all this undead crap started. Maybe it means something. I’ll have to see somebody about that. A therapy session at the end of the world. Sometimes I crack myself up.

Claire mumbled something in her sleep. It sounded like, “Mother …No.” Dreaming about relatives eating her. I’ve been there. If she starts screaming, I will have to wake her up.

The nights can be the worst. Most of the time, you are hiding from something horrible and praying for sunrise. Other times, the nights aren’t too bad, and you got a few hours sleep with nothing bothering you. This particular night in the jewelry store had been relatively peaceful. I was able to get a few catnaps, and catch up on some sleep. Maybe Claire and I would have a good night for a change.

Then the streetlight on the pole outside the store turned on.

I jumped out of my chair as the store was suddenly bathed in light. How the hell was the streetlight working? Then I saw another problem. The light was pointed directly into the store. Our prime hiding place was lit up like a damn Christmas tree. Every bad thing in the free world could see us now. I could hear the streetlight popping and humming as it came to full strength. Moths and other bugs started flying around attracted to the light. The only light around for miles, I guess. The bugs were not the only things stirring tonight. Sure enough, a bad guy walked into the light.

It was a middle-aged male with a bit of a belly. He was dressed in a rotting suit, but had no shoes. One of his arms, the right one, was ripped off at the shoulder. Other than the arm, he was pretty intact. He walked like a typical zombie, with his feet shuffling on the ground and his one arm outstretched. I named him Suit Guy. I crouched down lower clutching my rifle. I waited for him to show me his eyes.

Suit Guy turned slightly, and I caught a glimpse of his face. Twin yellow eyes glowed back at me. The Yellow-Eyes weren’t too bad. Although dangerous, they were a little slower and dumber then the red eye ones. Suit Guy might just move on if he didn’t see or hear anything. I wondered if he could smell us. Almost on cue, Suit Guy raised his head, and took a sniff of the night air. I silently willed the unholy bastard to keep moving.
Nothing to eat here, dead guy. Just keep moving.

Suit Guy turned toward the store and took a step. He must have caught a scent of a good meal. I would have to drop him, or he would attack the store and attract every dead bastard in the immediate area.

I leaned my rifle against the nearest case, and pulled my handgun. I glanced at Claire. She was either sleeping deeply or pretending. I then shot a glance at Suit Guy. He was definitely headed to the front window of the store. I made my decision. I raced to the door and stepped outside, making sure I didn’t go out too far, and tried to keep an escape route open. As soon as I stepped outside, Suit Guy looked up, and started making a racket. I got a clear shot and fired my weapon. Suit Guy went down with a new hole in his head. I took a quick glance around to see if he was alone. Nothing else stumbled out of the darkness into the light. I strained my ears to listen for the telltale sounds of the undead, but I heard only crickets. I shot out the streetlight to keep any other monsters at bay, and returned to my hiding place. Everything went quiet again. Claire didn’t hear a thing. It took a while, but I finally drifted off to sleep.

Another typical night during the zombie apocalypse.

All too soon, I was being shaken awake. What the hell was going on? My hands jumped to the rifle on my lap.

It was Claire. “Easy. Easy now,” she said. “It’s just me. Don’t shoot Tiger.”

My eyes slowly focused. It was indeed Claire shaking me awake. She had a big smile on her face.

I stretched and yawned. “Never shake a guy with a rifle on his lap,” I said, half-jokingly.

“Whatever. What’s for breakfast?” Wonderful. She was a morning person.

I looked around. The sun was just peeking out of the trees. It was still kind of dark outside. We still had to be careful.

“How did you sleep?” I asked.

Claire handed me a bottle of water. “I slept great. Best sleep I’ve had in a while. Thanks for watching over me. Did you get any rest?”

In my mind, I replayed my little adventure with the Yellow-Eye the night before. “Yeah, a little bit. How long have you been up?”

“About an hour or so. I went to the bathroom and even cleaned myself up a little. See?” She rolled up her sleeves to show me her pale arms. ”I used some of the water. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. We can’t make it a habit. Water is scarce.” Wait a minute. She went into the bathroom. “You went into the bathroom? What about …”

“The dead guy on the toilet? It’s okay. I’ve seen worse.” She was right. A suicide on the toilet didn’t even budge the needle on the weird-o-meter in this fresh hell of a world. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. He was probably doomed anyway.”

Breakfast time. I really wanted pancakes with butter-pecan syrup and crispy bacon. A little fresh-squeezed orange juice would be nice too. Instead, Claire and I settled for oatmeal pies and a little water. Claire ate her breakfast with gusto. She looked much better this morning. After we finished, Claire asked, “Is it time to hit the road?”

“Not quite. I have to work on the guns a little bit.”

“Cool. Can I watch?”

“Yeah. You’ll have to learn anyway.”

“Why?”

“Something may happen to me.”

“What could happen to you? You’re armed to the teeth.”

“I could be injured, or killed, or turned. You know what’s out there.”

“Yeah,” she said, a little sadly.

I pulled out my handgun and put it on the counter. I pulled the magazine, and started checking the weapon. I liked to keep full magazines, so I was planning to hand load a few rounds to top it off. You never know when you were going to run into a zombie swarm. Claire watched with fascination as I checked and cleaned the barrel of the gun. “What kind of gun is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know. So far it has worked pretty good.”

“My Dad was a big gun nut. He was always pissing off Mom by bringing home all kinds of guns. He taught me how to shoot, too.” She trailed off, with tears welling up in her eyes. Apparently, the outbreak took a lot of people from her.

Claire composed herself, and wiped her eyes. “What kind of bullets does it use?”

“These.” I reached into my ammo case and retrieved a box. I started loading a few into the magazine.

“Wow. They look kind of funny. What’s with the tip?”

“They’re hollow points. They flatten out when they hit or penetrate anything. They do maximum damage.”

“So the undead geeks stay down, right?”

“Right. They stay down.”

“Like the one you smoked outside the store last night.” She nodded towards the street.

I paused my work on the guns for a minute. “How do you know I killed that one last night? You slept through the whole thing.”

“I was awake. That was pretty brave.”

“What the hell else was I going to do?”

“You could have run away. A lot of people do that. It’s happened to me before.”

“I wouldn’t run away, Claire. That’s not my style.”

Her face broke out into a bright smile. It lit the whole room up. “That’s cool. At least somebody in this world still gives a damn. People like that are getting hard to find.”

I re holstered my handgun and turned my attention to the rifle. Both weapons were fully loaded and ready to go. She touched the rifle with her index finger. “Real cool. I really could have used one of these. How did you get it?”

“I found it.” I didn’t want to tell her the real story. It took it off a policeman who had been trying to control the crowds as my hometown fell. Someone had rolled over him in one of those heavy- duty pick-up trucks. His upper half was trapped under the wheels and his lower half was lying in a crumpled heap under the truck. He was a mess, but he also wasn’t dead. His upper half was still alive and pretty hungry. I stood there for a while in horror. I snapped myself out of it, took his gun and a few extra magazines that were lying around, and got the hell out of there. Before I left, I eased his pain by offing him with his own gun. It was the first time I had ever fired a weapon of any kind.

It was also the first time I had ever killed a zombie.

Claire broke me out of my flashback to those horrible first days. “Can we hit the road now?” She sounded a little impatient.

“Just a minute. I want to take a quick look at the supplies in my backpack.”

“Okay. You check out your backpack, and I’ll get ready to go.”

I had not taken an inventory in a while except for the food and water, but I almost knew the contents by heart.

First, there was the small multi-tool. The multi-tool was a small miracle. It was actually a couple of tools in one and it was always a handy thing to have around. The rest of my survival gear consisted of food and water, a little bleach for water purification, a first aid kit, maps of the area, a roll of toilet paper, toiletries, a block to sharpen my edged weapons, gun tools and a cleaning kit, two cans of lighter fluid, and a ballpoint pen and legal pad.

I also had a selection of can and bottle openers. They were close to me in an inside pocket of my jacket. People will kill you for a can opener these days.