The Undead Situation (6 page)

With no warning, pressure and dizziness clouded my brain. My vision darkened and became fuzzy. I froze, bringing my hand to my head. It could have been a concussion. The blows dealt to my head by Gabe warranted head trauma, I was sure.

Noise from the hallway demanded my attention. I glanced to my left and saw the vague outline of Gabe leaning against the wall.

“Well? What’s the plan?”

The light was strange. Her shadowy figure faded in and out of my vision. If I stared too long, I’d lose her, but if I didn’t focus hard enough, I wouldn’t be able to see her.

“I didn’t think about it. I was just…” Sitting there? Staring at the faces of decomposing, once lively humans? Yeah, that was it.

Apparently she knew my answer without me delivering it. “We’ll leave in the morning then.”

I laughed at her command. “Where are we going to go?”

“I don’t know. We’ll go on an adventure—Robinson Crusoe style or something.”

“Have you even read Robinson Crusoe?” My question silenced her. I hadn
’
t read it until a few weeks ago. But it still made me better than her. No denying that.

“Listen, Cyrus, when I was hanging off a building going insane I came to a few life realizations. One, us sitting around in this apartment will result in death. Either yours or mine, but one of us will probably die, regardless of any half-assed promises. We just don’t get along on a basic level.” She was as high up on her soapbox as she could get. “Two, I feel like I have nothing to lose. The world as I know it has come to a complete and fucking end. It’ll never be the same, so I might as well live it up while I’m still alive and in decent condition.”

I scratched the side of my jaw in pensive consideration. It was clear enough she was ready to put our misunderstandings behind us and go the route of an insane loner, much like myself. Perhaps throwing that girl off a balcony was the best thing I could’ve done. Now I had a partner in crime. Hopefully our current breakdown of the situation would put her sporadic, bipolar past behind us.

I’m aware I seem like the kind of person who needs no one, which is correct. I don’t. However, the idea of conditioning someone to be like me, a companion in the new world, wasn’t a thought entirely unappealing. A part of me was aware Gabriella wouldn’t put up with me terrorizing her forever, but another part sure hoped she would.

Whatever made that girl tick was going to keep on ticking until she ran out of batteries. After that, when would I find another woman? Mentally slapping myself for such a ridiculous train of thought, I shoved the ideas away and focused on Gabe’s question.

“What’s your definition of ‘living it up?’”

“I’d like to light a candle first, since its pitch black in here,” she said, “if that isn’t too much to ask. I’m pretty sure all the zombies in Seattle know we’re here. There’s no point in hiding.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, three matches and a candle found, we were sitting in the living room, discussing a plan. Gabe had a bottle of water. I had my last bag of marshmallows. We were peachy keen, like kids at a campfire. I didn’t understand why I spent so long looking for a candle when I had a battery operated halogen lamp. Guess it was for ambiance.

“You were right,” Gabe said. “The apartment has held up well. Being here isn’t just a matter of our safety, though. It’s a matter of supplies.”

A slightly stale marshmallow rolled around in my mouth as I nodded. I prodded it with my tongue until it was out of the way, pressing against my cheek. “That door is solid steel and bolted well. We can go that way, but I hear them out there all day and night. The best bet is to go to the roof via the balcony.”

She nodded, the wheels in her mind turning. I already had a precise plan formed on exiting the apartment, but it amused me to let her ‘think’ about it. She seemed to like being part of arranging things, so I let her. It wouldn’t hurt anyone.

The single candle flickered, throwing the shadows on her face into a dancing frenzy. She looked like a monster, but who was I to talk?

Laying on my stomach, I propped up my head in my hands. A little someone wiggled into the side of my t-shirt and cuddled up against my ribs. I pulled down the neckline of the shirt and looked at Pickle. The candle light barely made it through the white cotton, but it illuminated her tiny red eyes.

Gabe spoke, drawing my attention away from the adorable albino at my side. “What do we bring? I’ve never had the chance to pack useful things or take what I needed.”

The ball was back in my court. I’d let her initiate our escape plans, but now it was time for me to take over again. “We’ll pack up as much as we can without being excessive. Be practical, light, and efficient. No bringing a rocket launcher just for kicks.”

Her brows furrowed. “Do you have one?”

I grinned and got up, sending Pickle scurrying out of my shirt and under the dining room table as I sauntered off into my spare room.

We got to packing. Regret pained my heart as I sorted through what was reasonable to take and what wasn’t. The contents of that room were the closest thing to children that I’d ever have, and here I had to pick between them. It was a parent’s worst nightmare.

At first I beat myself up about leaving the apartment, since there wasn’t a concrete reason to do it. Gabe thought she convinced me, but in the end I convinced myself. Sure, I didn’t need to leave, but I wanted to. Everyone needs a little danger to spice up their lives.

All of it struck me as funny in that moment. The teenage feminist and the sociopath, packing our bags before setting out for a day on the undead town. I didn’t see a single issue with it, and Gabe didn’t either, I hoped. Just because she was on board now, didn’t mean she’d always be. But despite that…

The world was our oyster. Hell, the pearl inside of it was too, not that we needed it.

I wasn’t going to wait for Francis anymore.

The thought hit me when I stepped into the spare room. The realization felt like a door slamming in my face. But it had been, what, two weeks? Frank wouldn’t want me to wait this long under the circumstances. He’d told me it took two hours to get from the cabin to Seattle. Two weeks seemed like too long. He was probably dead.

Pushing the thought away, I focused on what was important—supplies. After assessing the contents in the spare room I was disappointed in how I’d been rationing my MREs. We’d been eating two a day since she arrived, and before that I’d been eating two or three since they apocalypse started. If we started eating one each a day, we could stretch them out to last three months. After that, we’d slowly starve. Food was limited, the undead were abundant.

Zombies, I thought as I rationed out MREs. Who knew it would be zombies?

Through the walls of the spare room, I could hear the white noise of their groans. I got used to it, but every once in a while it was impossible to ignore. After a few moments of listening, I phased it out.

An entire wall was covered in guns, all mounted and shiny. My Barrett .50 mournfully stared at me from the center of this display. I wouldn’t be taking that lover with me.

I caressed my P90, stroked my M14, admired my collection of side arms, especially the Desert Eagle. It had sentimental value. The G3 looked as sleek as ever. The M4 Carbine reminded me of my younger days. My two shotguns, W1200 and M1014, begged to be fired.

On the floor, a M249 SAW stood, casually left out from the last time I cleaned it. Too heavy to take, it would stay alone in my apartment forever.

The Barrett, though, I couldn’t leave. Not with 10 shots waiting to be fired. 10 one-shot, one-kill bullets. I justified it necessary to bring it up to the roof to clear any hindrances. Then I could get just a couple shots off. That’s all I wanted.

“I’ve seen these in videogames,” Gabe said from beside me, gesturing towards the weapon. “That one especially. It’s a Barrett.”

“It is,” I said, a little impressed, but unwilling to show it.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as though she sensed how I felt. What was it with women and
knowing
things? On average, I could only identify two major emotions in people: anger and fear.

“So, what’re we bringing?”

I looked at the two neat stacks of MREs and nothing else. “Food, water, ammunition, space blankets.”

“Maybe some medical stuff? Rubbing alcohol, gauze. The monsters out there aren’t the only ones who could hurt us.”

I would’ve packed everything of necessity eventually, but my mind seemed a bit bogged down and hers didn’t. I gave her credit for the quick thinking and let her start rifling around the room for items.

“This?” she’d ask.

“Mhm.”

“And this?”

“Sure.”

It was handy having her around, but I knew I couldn’t get used to her. I started thinking about Frank again. I got used to him, and now had to suffer because of it. Gabe knew we were going to look for him when we left. There was no way I was going to give up without trying. Even if I found his remains up and walking, eager to eat me, at least I’d know his fate.

By the time we trimmed surplus items from our packs, it felt late and I was ready to go to sleep. I still took the time to set my Barrett, loaded, by the sliding glass door to take up to the roof when the time came. The rock climbing gear I regretted buying last year was by the gun. At the time I had no use for it, but now we were going to use it to safely rappel down the building. Having everything set up and ready to go gave me a small sense of reassurance.

Tiredness swept over me as I headed towards my room. That feeling tripled when Gabe came from the spare room, candle in hand, evidently wanting to talk.

“How long are we going to look for Frank? Where will we look?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “We’ll search a two block perimeter. When we leave town, we’ll probably find a sign of him on the roads.”

I thought her questioning was through. It wasn’t.

“If we don’t find him, where will we go? We never talked about it.”

Her comment roused me. Gabe and I talked about looking and waiting for Francis, but during those conversations we never talked about where we’d go if we couldn’t find him. I couldn’t go to his cabin; I didn’t know where it was. I did know it was east, past the smaller towns up in the mountains. However, the exact location eluded me. Trying to get there was a joke, but planning to go east was a good idea.

The roads would be choked the closer we came to Seattle’s limits. Other people would’ve tried to get out, but they would’ve panicked and left en masse. Since we’d be coming late to the game, we wouldn’t have to compete with thousands of the living jockeying for road space. The highways were smaller the farther out you went. If we went by foot when required, it wouldn’t be a problem.

“We’ll just go east,” I said. “I’m sure once we get out of the hot zones we’ll figure the rest out.”

Pickle brushed up against my leg. I hadn’t seen her in quite a few hours, so her presence was comforting. I picked her up, letting her climb up onto my shoulder.

“I’m surprised you have a pet.”

Oh, boy. She just couldn’t shut up. I tried to show via body language I was done talking, but I wasn’t sure how. I ended up looking restless as I glanced at my room.

Gabe took the hint and smiled halfheartedly before squeezing past me into the living room. I waited until I heard her settle into the sleeping bag I gave her before going into my own room. I shut the door and fell onto the bed.

I was done with talking. Done with planning. I just wanted to sleep.

The weather got its act together and remembered what it should be doing. Sunlight broke through the morning mist, dissipating the grey clouds. I stared, entranced, at the small strip of sky just above the building next to mine. For a second I wished today would be normal. I’d work out, read my magazines and other relevant periodicals, then go work the night shift at the pharmacy. My daydream was brief, ending as I threw back the covers and made my bed for the last time. It seemed like the right thing to do, though irrational, and I took this quiet time to let my mind go blank.

After I ate an MRE (Cheese tortellini), I rationed a bottle of water for tooth brushing and a miniscule sponge bath, again taking my time. Rushing things now would create a bad start for the rest of the day, for the rest of however long it was going to take to get somewhere safe. As I readied myself, I listened for their sounds outside but heard none. The stiffs dissipated overnight from the lack of stimuli.

I got dressed. My barely used combat attire was stiff, as I hadn’t worn it yet. Under my pocket-laden tactical vest I wore a black, Ripstop tactical shirt, with a pair of coordinating Ripstop Tru-Spec pants to finish off the look. When browsing the internet for things like this, anything with the word ‘tactical’ seemed to work out just fine.

By the time I finished getting ready and packing ferret food, I expected Gabe to be waking up, but she was still sleeping on the living room floor. Everything was ready to go—everything but her. Cutting her beauty sleep short, I pushed her onto her back with my foot.