Needles stab into the sclera of my eyes and water leaks onto the pillow. Light droplets of rain knock on the glass window, and a flash of lighting rips across the sky. A small thunderclap follows and shadows within my room quickly retreat as the violet flash erases all traces of darkness temporarily. The bed creaks with a loud pop as I sit up.
There is no noise coming from within the house which only adds to my paranoia. No one needs to go with me. I can handle myself. They will only slow me down, and I must move fast. This is going to be just like the night sales, except there is a possibility of death or worse, turning into a shambler.
I stand up and something crinkles beneath me. It's the picture I was holding before I fell asleep. A thought floats around and poisons my mentality. As much as I dislike Emily, I don't want to see her become a shambler. I don't want to see any of these people turn into shamblers.
A scene of me being forced to crush Lauren's skull as well as all those within the group grabs ahold of my mind and refuses to let go. An intense pulse throbs on both sides of my head. I cover my ears and try to erase the horrific images within my head.
"Matt?"
The pain leaves, and the bloody images stop brainwashing me. I come to my senses and realize that everything is okay. Eric is standing outside my room as another flash of lighting temporality removes the darkness that swallows him.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
He bends over and picks up my photos of Samantha. His eyes are expressing dire concern as he hands the photos to me. I put them in my wallet and stuff it in the back pants pocket. There's no point in telling him what happened. He isn't going to understand or care for that matter.
"Where are you going?"
"To a nearby convenience store."
I grab my revolver and flip the cylinder out. Yup, it's loaded and I have five spare bullets in my other pocket. Hopefully there won't be any reason to use it. If I do, then I can't come back. Otherwise, this place will be compromised.
There's no need to bring the rifle. The 357 is more than enough to do the job seven times over if it manages to hit the head. Not to mention it's more versatile since I can shoot 38. Special if I manage to find some ammo along the way.
"What for?"
"To test a theory. I want to see what we are up against during night time hours. I'm guessing there's no point in telling you no because you won't listen."
Eric chuckles, "You know me too well Matt."
I holster the revolver in my pocket and strap the hunting knife to my belt. Eric checks his handgun. He is using mom's 380. The one I helped dad buy when mom passed her conceal carry class. Small, lightweight, concealable and it holds around 15 rounds. The only issue is it isn't flinging chunks of copper like the 357. More like pebbles.
"Here's the deal, don't fire unless you have to. If we do, then we can't come back here. I know several other places to go if a situation does occur. Stick close and stay quiet."
"I'm just here to help." Eric states as he hands me my backpack.
I take out most of the supplies gathered from the school except some stuff to craft a quick grenade if the occasion arises. Hopefully we can find more supplies like food, water and medicine.
"Hey Matt…"
"What?" I ask as I open my window and look outside. A gust of warm wind followed by a cold burst of air flows through my hair. Cool rain gently speckles my face and arms as I step out on the roof.
It's neither cold, hot, or lukewarm. The weather hasn't decided what it wants to do so it's trying to combine all three of them.
The dim glow of the street light gives off a false sense of security as they do absolutely nothing to illuminate the area around. The convenient store is about half a mile away and light is very limited on the way there. I have a small Maglite built into the right strap of my harness, but that will give our position away if used too much. This will be a lot harder than I thought, but it has to be done.
"Back on the bus, Blair said he was going to come after you? What did he mean?"
"Blair isn't going to do anything if that's what you're worried about. He was just trying to make himself seem bigger because he didn't want to lose support." I say as I look for the safest possible route.
Right now, cutting through the back yards appear to be the path of least resistance, but there could still be people in these houses we don't know about. Staying on the roads will attract the shamblers. I evaluate what I have and make a final decision.
"Okay. Follow me." I say as I climb down to the ground and head across the street. I can see some shamblers off in the distance now that I'm on ground level. A couple of them are huddled under a streetlight about a block away.
Their heads dangle down like they are staring at the grey rain puddles. Spasms erupt across their bodies, and the muscle that is still attached to bone shakes. Even their heads twitch to the side occasionally under the body's forced contractions.
Eric eases up behind me. There's an alley straight across the street that can take us halfway there. The rest of the way is going to consist of using whatever we can as a blind. I touch Eric, and he pats my shoulder twice.
I jump into the alley and press up against a brown dumpster. Eric crouches down beside me and keeps a lookout. I peek around and see that we are still undetected. The shamblers underneath the lamp haven't moved. Several theories come to mind, but there is no way to be certain until they are tested.
Are they attracted to light? Their senses have probably been dulled, but does the radiation grant them the ability to sense weak waves of light at night? Not only that, why are they so sluggish? During sunlight, they weren't fast, but they attempted to move as fast as they could. At night, the shamblers seem dormant.
The sprinkling rain stops for a brief moment. There's only one thing left to do, and it's the most dangerous. A sense of dread fills my soul as I grit my teeth and stand up. Adrenaline mixed with fear swirls around and broils inside my stomach. Intense heat causes my breath to strain, and it feels like breathing through a straw.
"Eric, you stay here. If something goes wrong, go." I whisper.
"What?"
I don't bother with explaining. If I die, hopefully my sacrifice will be for the good of the group. Wait. What? This is stupid. Why the hell am I even doing this? About twenty feet away, I turn on the harness' flashlight and slowly approach the shamblers. They twitch and throw their heads up. I turn the light off and crouch down to one knee.
The shamblers walk towards me. I ready my hunting knife and lie down. The cold and wet concrete kisses my stomach as I crawl back quietly. They stop and attempt to look around. Hopefully I'm out of earshot since these things have very sensitive hearing.
The shamblers croak and click their teeth together. One doesn't click its jaw enough, and it falls over from a lack of balance. All the shamblers gather around it due to the noise of a splashing puddle.
The shambler returns to her feet, and the small group head back to the street light. They are super sensitive to light during the night, and I hypothesize that the clicking of their jaws help them maintain their balance. Take out the jaw, and they can't stabilize themselves.
I wave for Eric to move up. He sticks close to the ground and eases next to me. The shamblers are still unaware of our presence. We stand up and sneak by the group. During the day they are active. At night, they are dormant and attracted to light.
More of a pest than a real threat at night, but that's not considering the potential anomalies. Hopefully there isn't any, but my gut tells me that theory will be wrong.
The rain returns, and warm water saturates my hazel hair. Ahead is our stop, and it looks like it has already been raided. The front doors are busted, the iron bars lining the windows have been pried off with something, and the florescent bulbs above the coolers flicker as the street lights outside barely offer any visibility inside.
Hopefully there's something in there remotely useful. Maybe the old man that ran this place left his old GT muscle car in the garage. Since it's an older model of car, I could easily hotwire it and drive that into the country side.
"Alright Eric. We are going to be quick. In, out, done. You start at the office; I'll head to the back, and we will meet in the middle. Our gunshots will be somewhat muffled once indoors, but don't use it unless you have to."
"Sure thing Matt."
I turn my flashlight back on, grab my revolver and brace the hand with the gun over my left wrist. The hunting knife rests in my right hand and will offer some protection if something gets too close. I head in first and aim right while Eric checks the left.
Empty shelves have been overturned and glass sparkles on the ground when the incandescent light bulbs on the beverage coolers flicker. It looks like firecrackers popping at night. Empty beer cans skid across the ground and glass crunches under my boot as I move to the back.
Eric heads to the office and digs through the drawers back there. Everything is clear on my end. I put my revolver away and dig through the debris. Nothing but empty bags of potato chips, and the smell of formaldehyde from spoiling beer. It's like a skunk just sprayed all over the place.
"Did you assholes just rip the bag open and dump it in your mouth?" I throw the bag down and dig through the trash.
Nothing. Everything has been stripped clean. An idea comes to mind though. I sweep the debris off to the side and lay down on my stomach. The light from the flashlight reflects off the cooler doors. Beams of light bounce back and highlight an object underneath the aisle. Somebody deliberately hid it here. I reach under and sweep out a white bottle. Antibiotics is written on the blue label. I snatch it up and put it in my backpack.
It's not going to be prescription grade, but it will certainly slow an infection down until we can go raid a hospital or pharmacy. Everyone is healthy right now, but it's not going to hurt to be prepared.
"You find anything Matt!?" Eric whispers from the clerk's counter.
"Yeah! I got some pills! What about you!?"
"Not yet!"
That medicine was a rare find. Somebody was here before the military rolled in, and the idea that they were probably going to be dragged against their will to a quarantine zone probably spooked them into hiding this before the military stripped the store. It looks like whoever raided the place knew what they were doing, so I'm going to put all the money in Eric's wallet on the military.
"Hey Matt! Come here!" Eric yells.
I finish rummaging through the rubble and head to the back where Eric is. Hopefully he found something useful. I don't want to stay here any longer than possible. With the flickering lights and this place housing potential supplies, this could be a hotbed for shamblers and hostile survivors.
Eric is standing over by a shop door leading into the garage. He's bent over like he wants to lift it up. Excitement gets the better of me as I clap my hands and walk over. We have to be careful though. There's no telling what's going to be in here. I stand back about a foot away from the door and work my hands underneath the padding.
"On three!" Eric says.
"Wait! Is it going to be one, two, lift, or one, two, three, then lift?"
Eric rolls his eyes, "For God's sake, just lift!"
The both of us pull up, but the door is so much heavier than I anticipated. My arms feel like giving way to the sheer weight and Eric is feeling the fatigue as well. This thing has to be made of steel rather than aluminum because the garage door at my house it twenty times lighter than this.
"Son…of a…bitch…that's heavy…" I say as we get it up halfway.
"Matt, find something to prop it open with."
I make sure Eric has a firm grip and duck down. The blanket of darkness inside lies over everything in the room. I grab my revolver and head under. The thin beam of blue light protruding out of the harness shines faintly on the infinite black within the garage.
The beam brushes over a red GT muscle car. This is the one! The one the old man would drive around town! This is my ticket out of here! Wait… I look back and see Eric is still holding the gate open. No, I can't leave him. I look back at the car, and my mind changes.
"Come on Matt, they're just using you to survive. Once you've outlived your purpose, they'll put two in your skull." A voice within my head says.
" No, you're wrong!" I silently retaliate.
"Really? There's a reason they're getting so close, because it's easier to deliver the knife."
"Liar!"
"Once you get everything required to survive, Eric and the others will show their true colors, and when that happens, we will see who the real liar is."
I grab a rolling mechanics table and prop it under the shutter so Eric can crawl under. He lets go and it sits on the table. I head back and check under the car. Just to make sure there is no shamblers underneath. There is a bay underneath the car. I guess this place had a mechanic too. Something I never knew.
Eric ducks under, but something grabs his leg. It yanks him back into the office and takes him to the ground. Eric gasps and swings back. His fist hits the attacker, and he rolls off. The moment he gets back up, someone else pushes him down and restrains his arms.
"Get off me!" Eric yells as he thrashes around. The guy picks Eric up and slams him up against a wall. A zip tie cinches Eric's hands together and they sit him down in the corner.
"There was another one around here somewhere! Be on your guard!" Someone states.
Both men are wearing military uniforms. Their patches have been ripped off and strands of green and black thread dangle from where the ranking, branch and name goes. Judging by these guys, they are deserters. They still have their body armor and helmets on, but no firearms.
"Shit…" I silently gasp as I get away from the door.
In a straight fight, the soldier is going to win against me every time. Wits are going to dictate the outcome of this battle. I roll under the car and drop down into the bay below. Sorry Eric, but I need to get a jump on this one because one hit from that machete, and I'm as good as dead.
Why did it have to be soldiers? I don't want to kill a solider. The only way I would is if I was forced to. Which judging by the circumstances, I may not have a choice. Down below, the bay underneath the store is surprisingly big. There's even a bathroom, and a hallway leading to multiple storage rooms in the back.
All I need to do is hit him in the helmet hard enough to knock him unconscious. I pick up a 2x4 lying on a pallet and head into the first room to the left. The wood is yellow, which means it's either cedar or pine. One or two hits is all I'm going to get out of this thing so I have to make it count. The soldier catches on that there is a mechanical bay underneath the car. I quickly cover my light up with my hand and switch it off.
The yellow glow of his flashlight forms a concentrated dome that eliminates the abyssal color that lingers in the hallway. His footsteps get louder with every passing second. My heart is throbbing so hard right now.
A glass bottle rolls down the hallway. He's inches from the door. I raise the 2X4 and hold my breath. The tip of his machete breaks the threshold of the room. Blood droplets softly patter against the concrete floor as he peeks in. His face sticks in far enough I can land a solid hit.
With everything built up, I swing horizontally at the visor. Wood meeting metal rings out as the 2x4 hits the brim of his camo helmet. He drops the machete and staggers backwards.
The wooden stick cracks but remains intact. I waste no time and swing overhead. The 2x4 hits the top of his helmet and shatters. The sweet smell of pine shavings radiates from the splinted wood as I toss the busted piece of wood down. The solider falls down and lies there motionlessly.
It's tempting to try and loot, but I don't think he's out one-hundred percent. Those helmets can stop bullets, so he's okay. Not only that, he could be playing and if he gets a hold of me, that will be the end. I snatch up his machete, a glass bottle and climb out of the underground pit.
The guy is keeping a close eye on Eric as well as the entrance into the office since there is only one-way in. I don't think these guys are bad because they would have killed Eric by now, but I doubt he's going to want to talk.
I ease up to the garage door and give a quick wave while the solider isn't watching Eric. A look of joy comes over Eric's face, but he hides it as the solider looks back at him. I ready the machete in one hand, and the glass bottle in the other.
The solider looks away, and I toss the machete to Eric. It lands at the base of his feet and rattles. The solider looks back at Eric, and I rush forward. My heavy footsteps bring his attention back to me. I ram the bottom half of the bottle into the side of his head. Glass shards scatter across his helmet, and he drops a pipe wrench. Eric spins around and grabs the machete.
My right fist smashes into the side of the man's helmet, and he staggers. I grab hold of him, but he places both hands on my chest and shoves me up against the clerk's counter. My back pops, and I exclaim in pain as an aching sensation travels throughout my body.
The solider swings high to hit me in the face, but I cover up. He brings his knee up and drives it into my stomach. My lungs seize up as all the oxygen vanishes from my body in one swift gasp. He steps back and flies at me with his arm fully extended. I pull my guard up and his attack connects with my forearms.
His base weight and strength combined with body armor lift me off my feet, and the both of us roll over the counter. Empty candy boxes, lottery tickets and the cash from the register rain down on me, and the solider. A swirl of various colors distorts my vision as I try to gather my bearings. That hurt.
I roll over but something catches my shoulder and traps me. The weight of a hammer slams into my forearms as he tries to hit my face. The solider jabs me in the ribs to change things up.
I yelp as my ribs flex under the impact of an angered punch. Each strike puts me closer and closer to unconsciousness, and I can't fight back because this guy is all over me. He tries to strike me in the face, and if that doesn't work, then I take a solid hit to my ribs or stomach. His right sleeve rolls up, and I catch a glimpse of what branch he's potentially from.
Chint-chink! A bullet skids across the floor. "Get off him!" Eric yells as he points his handgun at the soldier.
The man gently backs off, and I draw my revolver from the back of my pants. That way he won't be tempted to try anything. He may have armor on, but he still has to deal with the impact from a 357. and 380. at close range.
"Easy boys. I think this is all a misunderstanding." The solider says.
"You're damn right it is!" Eric shouts.
"Where's the rest of your squad?" I ask.
"Some people acted like they needed help and being the caring kind got my squad killed. My friend saw you two enter the store, and we decided to try and get payback for what happened to our brothers."
The soldier points at me, "That's until I saw your revolver. Your friend? Pistol is straight from Argentina. Our squad had nothing but special issue carbines and handguns from France. If you were from that group, then you'd either have our weapons or be armed with sticks and pipes."
I stand up and check behind me to make sure our ruckus hasn't attracted attention. There aren't any shamblers approaching so I think we are good for now. Eric bends down and picks up the extracted bullet.
"You don't have to charge the weapon if you have a round in the chamber." The solider says.
"I know. I could have just shot you, but I was doing it as a warning." Eric states as he reloads the bullet.
"Your buddy is down below. There's a mechanic's bay underneath the car in the garage. He's unconscious right now. You go get him, and we will be gone by the time you get back."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You said it yourself, we're not from that group. Now go." I state.
Eric backs off and gets away as the soldier slips into the office room. We didn't get to properly search the place over, but I'd rather not take any chances right now. These guys are trained killers, and they could easily overpower me and Eric.
I step over an overturned carousel and sprint out the front door. Eric is right behind me. Letting those guys go was probably a huge mistake, and it will now come back to haunt me. However, as much as I don't trust the military, I couldn't kill them because of what happened.
They tried to do the right thing, and it got everyone in their squad killed as a result. I'm almost positive that if they wanted to have killed us, they would have done it with no hesitation, but because they still had a little bit of their humanity left, they were able to reason and be logical. Something a lot of people don't have as of now.
Eric and I take shelter behind a totaled car so we can catch our breath. We are taking the long way home since there's a possibility those guys could be following us. Eric peeks around the corner of the hood while I look around the trunk.
"Do you see anything Matt?"
"No. How about you?"
"No."
The sprinkling rain mixed with the night is enough to obstruct our vision beyond twenty yards. Which means they can't see us either. Unless they have thermal imagery but I doubt they do. There were no mounts on their helmets, and they looked like they were barely scraping by just like us.
"Why didn't you kill them? You had the chance to." Eric asks.
"Those men back there tried to do the right thing, and their brothers died as a result. It wouldn't set right with me if I killed someone who was still trying to do good."
"Is that the sound of you actually caring? I thought you were a hardened survivor?" Eric teases.
I roll my eyes and slap his wet chest with an open hand. Yup, that one is more than likely going to leave a mark because I can feel the sting punching through my palm and fingers, "Don't push your luck. That little display could probably come back to bite me in the ass."
Eric vigorously rubs his chest and lets out a small yelp. The trapped cry causes me to laugh as I stand and help him up. He slaps the back of my head. His wet hand meets my wet hair, and a sharp pain flows all throughout my head.
"Race you back!" Eric whispers.
I run after him but he's got quite a lead. Most of the shamblers are on the other side of town, so goofing off here is more acceptable. The only thing we have to worry about is those soldiers, but I'm sure we lost them. There are a couple shamblers standing in the flicking street lights in front of us, but we swing wide and avoid them.
This actually reminds me of back when we were in the second grade. His mom and dad would let me come over and play. It was so cool because he had a treehouse. On the weekends, mom would let me stay the night.
One time, this bully was beating up on me and Eric, and the both of us lashed out and beat the hell out of him. It was bullshit because me and Eric got punished, and we didn't do anything other than stand up for ourselves. The bastard got what he deserved for messing with my buddy.
Eric climbs up the fence of my house. Halfway up, he loses his balance and plops over. I vault over the same time he falls and his head lands in a puddle of grassy water. Grass fragments and mud stick to his face. He spits and sputters as he tries to get the awful tasting water out of his mouth.
"Photo finish? Not likely." I whisper. He tries to swipe at me but misses. I jump and grab hold of the roof. The rain makes it harder to grip, but it's nothing unbearable. I hoist myself up and check for any potential threats that may have followed us here.
Nothing. Good. These things truly are dormant at night. My research has come a long way. It's actually safer to go out at night for now. Until everyone figures out that shamblers are dormant. That or any potential anomalies that show up and defy the research I've gathered.
Eric finally cleans his face off and walks over. I lean over and hold out my hand. He jumps up and grabs my forearm. Eric puts his foot on a metal column and kicks himself up onto the roof. I let go of him, and he pulls himself up.
I open the window and climb back through. My room is just the way I left it. Eric climbs in and takes a deep breath. "That was close…"
I lay down on my bed and kick my boots off. A soothing sensation comes over my frayed legs as I nearly pass out from exhaustion. Wait. Can't forget this. I pull out my revolver and put it under my bed.
"Matt?"
"Yeah?"
"What Mr. Blair said really concerns me."
"He's not going to do anything."
Eric sits down in a chair and clasps his hands together. He's deep in thought about something. I don't know what though. I put my hands under my head and stare up at the ceiling. Those guys were missing patches, but there was one they couldn't get rid of.
The tattoo most of them get when they graduate from Reconnaissance school. The one that beat the hell out of me had his personal insignia on the back side of his forearm. His sleeve rolled up, and I got a glimpse of it before getting smacked.
That one guy down in the bay must have been new or under so much stress that he forgot how to properly clear a room alone. That worked out in my favor but if it were anyone else, those two would be dead now. I'm just glad it was us. Although my aching ribs and stomach say otherwise.
"Matt, do you think my parents are okay? I mean, mom works at the hospital, and dad was supposed to come back from the oil rig next weekend." Eric asks as I take my hunting knife off my belt and shove it underneath my pillow.
"I'd say yes. I mean, if what Adam said about the military forcing people into quarantine zones is true, then the first thing they are going for is nurses and doctors. Your dad? He's probably the toughest son of a bitch I know. There's no way he isn't okay." I state.
"Yeah. You're right. What about you? Do you think your parents made it?"
"Oh yeah. I mean, dad caries a gun, and mom keeps one under the car seat. Although I do wonder if they even care if I'm alive. Adam? They'd burn the whole world for him, but me? They'd probably be happy if I ran away or ended up a shambler."
"Don't say that Matt."
"What? It's true."
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"You're always acting like the world hates you."
"Well, it kind of does. The only reason people even knew my name was because I was that guy with the cigarettes, or the booze runner for the prom after party, and now…"
I catch myself before I say that the only reason Eric, and the others pretend to care is because they want to survive.
"And now what?"
"I'm just that guy with no plan, no future, no hope."
"Hey now, we'll get through this. I promise." Eric states as he tries to cheer me up.
"Yeah…" I halfheartedly reply.
"I'll let you be then. Tomorrow, we'll go get Jessica and Miss Fleming. Then we'll figure out where to go from there."
"Goodnight Eric."
"Goodnight Matt."
He leaves the room and shuts the door. Tomorrow, we'll go get Jessica and Fleming. Once we achieve that, I'll look into finding everyone a safe place to settle down. Possibly somewhere way out in the country side. Once they get established, I'll come back, get the kayak and make my way for the Texas state line. Hopefully sooner rather than later…