Cool morning air blows in from the crack underneath the bedroom window. A combination of dew and moisture collects on my face as I slowly open my eyes. A light geyser radiates from my mouth in between chilly breaths. Needles poke at the pores of my face, and a faint orange light shines through the cracked window.
Deep in my torso, a powerful urge to eat uncontrollably comes over me, and my stomach vibrates from hunger. That horrible can of chicken soup last night wasn't enough. Mainly because it tasted like garbage, and that's probably why I'm still hungry. I have some food in my backpack, but it would be best to ration what I can for now.
The arm Blair sliced into has stopped throbbing. I lift it up and slowly unwrap the wound. The faint word of traitor is etched in red on the bandage. Dried blood forms a barrier on the top layer of the words, giving off a nasty looking scar, but it doesn't look infected.
I grab the bottle of whiskey from my bag and douse the wound. The brown fluid seeps into the carving. I clench my teeth and let out a stifled sigh as I clean the wound and rewrap it with some fresh bandages.
I flex my fingers to make sure I still have full control of my hand. The flesh on the arm pulls on the gouged-out letters and stings, but it's nothing too serious. A little sore, but it will be fine by tomorrow as long as it stays clean.
I get out of bed and head into the living room. Jamie is sterilizing a black pot over the fireplace while Kate and Rebecca sit at a dinner table. Rebecca puts down an orange crayon and picks up a blue one. Kate points to the top of the page, "what's the number?"
"Three."
"And what color do the threes have to be?"
"Blue."
"Good job."
Rebecca colors on the page again as I sit down and watch Kate give her sister a lesson on colors and numbers. Rebecca puts the blue crayon down and picks the orange one up. She looks at the index and colors in some panels with the matching number. Kate picks up a green crayon and throws it at me.
"Why don't you color in a few? You are smart enough to do that? Right?"
"I went to a public school in Oklahoma. You expect me to be that smart?" I reply as I sit right beside Kate. Jamie giggles at the comment as she grabs the pot with an oven mitt and flips it over.
I look at the coloring index and locate what should be worked on. Fives need to be green. I pick up a green crayon and shade in the leaves on a tree. Rebecca is coloring the sky as Kate picks up a purple crayon and fills in the pedals of a flower. This seems to be one of those coloring books grades like kindergarten and first grade use to learn numbers and colors simultaneously.
"What grade are you in Rebecca?" I ask.
"I was in second grade, but I ended up going to school at home because I had to go to the doctor a lot."
"So you were homeschooled?"
"Yes. My mom was the teacher, and when daddy and Kate got home, they'd sit down and help me with my homework."
"Where'd you go Matt?" Kate asks.
"Just Spring Hollow's High school. How about you?"
"Brookhaven. I was a senior. Just a couple weeks ago, I was taking pictures and getting ready to mail out invitations." She replies.
"Did you do your own photos?"
"Yeah. My mom had a friend that was a photographer for the state, and she offered to do my pictures for free rather than paying those professionals that come to the school. What about you Jamie? Where'd you go to 'pursue an education?'"
Jamie opens a can of tomatoes and dumps them into the pot, "I went to a private school my whole life."
"Ah, the preppy type." Kate teases.
"No." Jamie sighs in frustration. "I needed to go to a school where I could do nothing but focus on getting into a top college in the state. A private school's higher standard would prepare me for the workload, and because I was coming from a well-respected school, it would give me a slight edge over everyone else trying to apply."
"So, you were trying to get into OU." I state.
"Yes."
"What did you want…"
"Me... Medical" Jamie cuts me off.
She sticks a spoon into the pot and stirs it around. I don't know what happened, but she got real defensive. The way she stuttered sounded like she was going to say something else before changing the subject.
"Medical field. Awesome. We always need more doctors and stuff." I reply as sincerely as possible.
"Anyway, what are we doing today?" Jamie asks.
"Since we are on the topic of the medical field, I think I'm going to go check out a hospice I saw the other day. It isn't too far away, so I'll be back before dark." Kate replies as she finishes coloring her purple flower.
"Do you need a spare gun?"
"I'd appreciate it."
"Then I'm in." I state.
"Good. I'll go get my stuff."
Kate gets up and walks off into the back room. Searching a hospice doesn't sound too bad. It'll be a lot more laid back than trying to raid a hospital or pilfering through a pharmacy. Many people tend to forget that these places have medicine in the back rooms. Stuff like prescription grade pain killers and possibly some more chemotherapy pills.
A thought runs through my mind. I dig through my backpack and sit the chemo pills we found on the table. The paranoia of being around new people made me forget that Kate wanted me to hold onto these. Now that I know they aren't for her.
Kate walks back into the room with a couple bags, and a hunting rifle, "You might need this." She lays a black carrying bag in front of me. I reach inside and pull out a hazmat mask.
Filters line the jaws on both sides of the face. The visor is made of polycarbonate and layered with an anti-fog solvent. There's even a drinking straw where the base of the mouth is. Although I'd rather not take the chance. The mask Kate gave me is nothing like hers because a massive filter sits on the nose of her mask.
Kate is fiddling with the detachable magazine on her hunting rifle. I hold the mask up and make it look like I'm examining the finer details. Dried droplets of faded blood stain the thick seal that protects the base of the neck. I calmly ignore it and continue inspecting for cracks or breaks. It's safe to assume Kate more than likely got these from those guys in the hazmat suits, but why should I care. It's not like they're needing it for where they're at now.
"Did you pull the plugs out of these?" I ask as I open the filters and examine them.
"Of course."
The plugs are open so that means this thing is ready to go. I'll probably have to replace the cartridges tomorrow since they don't last that long, or that's what the survival manual said to do when dealing with gas masks and respirators. I screw the filters back on and put the mask in my pack.
"Don't get yourselves killed." Jamie says.
"We will be fine. Just make sure my sister takes her medicine and eats." Kate replies as she slings the rifle over her shoulder.
I collect my backpack and follow her outside. Jamie closes the door and locks it. Immense heat blended with thick water clings to my body, and I immediately break into a heavy sweat. Today is going to suck because the humidity is so concentrated. Water mixed with salt rolls into my eyes and causes them to sting with the intensity of staring at the sun.
There must have been a gentle shower last night that dropped the temperature before the sun came out, and now it's heated the atmosphere back up. One of the down sides to living in Oklahoma is it's really cold at night, but very hot and humid during the day.
"Are there any houses nearby we can check? Something close that way I can get a lay of the land?" I ask.
"That hospice is about three miles from here. There's also a house right by it. Probably the owners of the place. Might be something useful there." Kate says as she pulls out a detailed travel map of Black Breech.
The area around here is surprisingly peaceful. Gusts of wind shake the limber tree branches above and strands of blonde light shine through the crevices and spatter the spring grass below. Monarch butterflies flutter in the air. The way the sun shines off their flapping, orange wings in this shaded area almost gives them a firefly like appearance. Inside a hollowed-out log by a small stream is a doe rabbit raising her kits.
Kate takes a deep breath through her nose and exhales out the mouth, "Ah. Fresh air with just a touch of humidity. Not much, but enough to make you miserable."
"Typical spring day."
The environment out here doesn't feel restricted like it did in the city. Air on the verge of the countryside feels less stuffy and congested. The buildings inside the city trapped the smell of death and decay. Very rarely could I breathe, and it not be tainted with the taste of putrid flesh. Out here, breathing feels a lot more relaxed and free.
The edge of the forest ends, and a barbed wire fence separates us from the hospice. Kate bends down and cuts out a large section of the fence with some pliers.
"You going to use that?"
Kate holds up the strand she cut, "This? Not really."
"I could use it for something."
"Go crazy then." Kate tosses it to me. She sits down behind a tree and pulls up a pair of binoculars. I wrap the wire around the tip of my sink leg and tightly cinch it up.
"There are some croakers inside the building." Kate says as she adjusts the focus on the binoculars. "Alright. Follow me."
She puts her binoculars away and lays down. I follow her to a busted window on the side of the hospice that looks to be completely unguarded.
"Damnit. It's that yellow shit." Kate whispers.
A yellow mist lingers within the air of the building and sounds of croakers clicking their teeth and croaking back and forth incoherently blasts out the window. I take my mask out, hold my breath and secure it to my face.
The nose guard braces up against my face, and my mouth feels like someone is taping it shut for how restrictive it is. I place my hand on the front and breathe out, then place my hands on the side filters and breathe in. The mask suction cups to my face and forms an airtight seal that causes the outline of my face to sweat.
I climb in and check the corners. A thick yellow dust cuts my vision in half and collects on the mask's visor like sleet trying to stick to glass. The gas is so thick that moving through it leaves a temporary trail before the fog closes the path back up.
Inside the room lies a lifeless body that's been shot in the head. Half of the skull is missing and its chest has burst open. Black ribs protrude out and all the organs inside the body have turned into grey mush.
Next to it lies another body covered in yellow except it's a human with a bullet hole going through the side of his head. I'm not a forensic expert, but this guy probably shot a croaker, it exploded and with a final breath, he committed suicide. His gun is useless because it has rusted yellow. Even the ammo within the magazine couldn't survive that.
The stuff isn't attaching to my body so that's good. According to what Kate said, large traces can suffocate a person. Dried blood stains the dirty tile and glass pops underneath my feet. A blanket of yellow powder covers the floors, walls and objects.
The bed has been dragged to the middle of the room. Torn fragments of bed sheets and pieces of mattress lie all around the area. Crooked footprints from the croakers lead all over the room. The sight makes me uneasy since these things are patrolling around.
Kate hops through the window, and we both ease up to the doorway. The left is a dead end so the only other way is right. In the room across is a faint light. There is a growl and two yellow dots quickly appear and disappear.
Her lungs are glowing, and a grotesque looking tumor bulges out of her chest. It's a croaker clicking and screeching out of impulse. I ease out further and look to the right. Some of the patient rooms are barricaded from the outside and some of the rooms have broken doors.
This is nerve-racking. Kate is even trembling from the overwhelming fear. We can't let it overcome us though. Kate and I gather our bearings and ease into the hallway. The only place they would keep medicine is over around the nurse's station.
She grabs onto the back of my shirt to prevent us from getting separated. The croakers glow bright enough that I can see them through the thick fog clogging my visor. The dust forms a wall so thick that I drag my hand down the front of the mask.
The feeling of wet sand gathers on my fingertips as I flick it off and press onward. This stuff would have no issue suffocating someone in a matter of seconds. Kate tugs on my shirt and guides me behind a receptionist desk. We crouch down and peek over.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a glimpse of a croaker in a nearby room. The thing must have heard us because it's dragging its feet in our direction. We use the desk as a blind and back away slowly.
The croaker clicks its teeth and screeches. Several others return the call, and the thing heads off in the other direction. For a second there, I thought we were going to have a fight on our hands. That was way too close.
Kate and I push to the back of the building where there's a small pharmacy room where someone would keep medicine. Kate and I head in and close the door.
Most of the shelves have been overturned, and all the medication looks like it has been contaminated by that gas. All the pills are crusted yellow and most of the labeling has been blotted out and is illegible.
"Son of a bitch..." Kate whispers in frustration.
I continue searching but find nothing. Even the first aid kits have been swallowed by the gas. There's no way I'd put this on an open wound even if I sterilized it. Kate throws a pill bottle down on the ground and puts her hands on her waist.
"Let's get out of here Matt. We have one more place to hit before we go back."
Kate and I head over to the window and hop out. The dense yellow fog dissipates from the atmosphere, and the sunlight shining through the veil above is visible again. The mask makes the sound of the suction cup popping as I pull it off.
The humid wind is cooler than my face and offers a soothing chill to my engulfed body. A rain of perspiration pours off my face, and a pool of sweat drains out of the mask as I turn it upside down.
"That went better than expected." Kate sighs as she pulls her mask off and wipes the grainy crystals off the visor.
Since it was a hospice that issued trained professionals and medication to terminally ill people, there had to be cancer pills in there, but that gas contaminated everything. The pills, the first aid kits, even the needles from syringes and blood draw kits were rusted to hell.
"Is there any way to get rid of that stuff in an area?" I ask.
"There's some kind of pill the doctors were assigning to the hazmat teams. It wasn't guaranteed to work, but they carried them around because it was supposed to help if you breathed in some of the gas."
"Where did you hear that?"
Kate pulls out a military manual regarding what is potentially going on in the world and hands it to me. She must have got this when she was forced into the Brookhaven quarantine zone. I flip it open and read. It covers the bare minimums. Register every day, report suspicious behavior, avoid mysterious yellow gas hovering around certain areas.
It mainly regards martial law and if anyone is caught outside curfew, they will be shot without question. A section does explain that the doctors were handing out pills to help treat radiation. If anything, it was probably a placebo project to try and encourage soldiers to carry on with their duties.
People turn extremely quick, and by the time that pill dissolved into the bloodstream, they'd already be shambling around. However, since it is radiation we're dealing with, there is something that should be tested.
"Hold on." I say as I put my mask back on.
"What is it?"
I seal it to my face and jump back into the hospice. If this was a drug room, then they should have some. I jump back through the window and head over to the section marked with T. Most are just medical mumbo jumbo names for medicine, Thioridazine, Thiothixene, Thyroid Care.
There is a small radius of clear visibility that surrounds a couple white supplement pill containers. The un-smudged label reads: "Thyroid Supplement. Promotes and supports endocrine system health."
I flip the label around and read the contents. These pills contain a concentration of potassium iodide and there are at least fifteen bottles of the stuff. All filled to the brim and never been opened.
I sling my pack off and grab the bottles. The gas clears a path as I drag it through the air and put it in my backpack. All the dust trying to collect on my bag puffs back up into the air and forms a ring of clarity around me. I pack the final bottle and jump back through the window. Kate is crouching behind a nearby car and keeping watch with her suppressed handgun.
"What's wrong with you Matt?" Kate's voice wheezes through the filters of her mask. She must have put it back on just in case I got in trouble in there.
I pull out a bottle of the potassium iodide pills and hold it in the cloud of gas. The bottle repels all the fog and pushes it away from my hand. A surprised look comes over her face, and she eases closer. I hand her the pill bottle and let her try.
Kate hesitates and doubts what she sees. Her hand slowly punches through the toxic cloud. It disperses and leaves a ring of visibility. Kate brings her hand back, and the visibility is quickly swallowed up.
"Amazing. Where did you learn this?" Kate asks as she puts it in her bag.
"Chemistry and basic physiology. Thyroid pills are made out of potassium iodide, and radiation is what turns people into shamblers. So I went out on a limb and guessed that these pills are the ones the doctors were giving the soldiers."
"So this gas the croakers leak is radiation infused?"
"Possibly. Kind of like the weak unrefined fumes off yellowcake. As far as why some people are shamblers, and some are croakers? I don't have a theory on that."
"At least someone paid attention in school." Kate replies as she takes her mask off.
"The only reason I did was because I wanted to blow stuff up in chemistry. Who would have thought all that would be something I'd actually use one day?"
"I bet you would have made a good high school science teacher." Kate says as we make our way towards the house.
"What makes you say that?"
"You just would. It would have never crossed my mind to go back and look for a diet supplement that could potentially repel this yellowcake stuff."
"Just so you know, I came up with the term yellowcake."
"Oh really? So that's what we're calling the gas now survival expert?" Kate teases.
"I like it better than croaker gas or yellow shit." I answer.
"When you put it that way, I think I do to."
The house Kate was talking about is a very nice-looking two-story that sits on top of a distant hill overlooking the hospice. All the windows are in one piece, the doors are hanging up on their hinges, and the garage door hasn't been pried open.
I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. This is an indication that there could be supplies inside, but are there still people living here? Hopefully not, but if there is, I hope they will be interested in trading.
We circle around back and check for a way in. No windows are open, and the door is locked. Great. The only way in is vandalism. If there's anyone inside, they are going to hear us busting out the window for an entryway.
"Give me a boost Matt." Kate says as she points to the aweing over the porch.
I lock my hands together and lean down. She places her foot inside and steps up. The treads of Kate's muddy sneaker leaves a sticky residue on the palms of my hand. She grabs the roof and pulls herself up.
"I'll hoist you up."
I pull some cable from my climbers' belt and toss it up to her. Kate grabs hold and wraps it around her waist. She bends her knees and arches her arms so she can gain extra leverage. I yank a couple times to make sure she's anchored. There's no way I'm falling back down on my ass if she screws up and drops me.
I grab the cable and pull myself up. Surprisingly, Kate isn't flinching from my weight. She remains strong and unmoved. Hard to believe she would actually have a basic concept of how to climb.
Kate helps me up to the roof and unwraps the cable that slipped down to her thighs. I reel the repelling cable back up into my belt and peek through the side window. My black shadow lingers over a toilet and shower that sits on the other side of the glass. There's no power so here's to hoping no one is inside.
"Oh of course! I find a ladder after we already got up here!" Kate sighs.
"Where at?"
"Next to the wood sh…" Kate stutters mid-sentence. She rapidly pats my shoulder, "Matt! We have company!"
I turn around and see a group of people heading in our direction. Two are dressed in armor and two aren't, but all of them have some kind of firearm. Fear fuels my thoughts, and there is no time to react. I bust the window out and Kate jumps through.
"It's Matt, and the pink haired bitch!" One guy yells out.
The blonde takes aim at me with his assault rifle. A bullet whizzes over me as I jump through the window and hit the ground. Those are people from Blair's group because I recognize that blonde guy. They must be out looking for supplies too. That or hunting me and Kate.
"Son of a bitch!" Kate swears as we crawl out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
The top floor forms a T shape with the bathroom we came out of on one end, and a bedroom on the other. There's also a room next to the stairway that leads to the first floor. Kate and I run downstairs and get a lay of the house before Jack, and the others try to get inside.
"How many bullets do you have!?" Kate asks as she barricades the front door with chairs and tables. There's no time to effectively stack so she just throws whatever she can in front of the door.
"Five 357 rounds!" I say as I grab a paper plate, and a towel from one of the drawers. "Hand me a 22 bullet!" I motion as we head back upstairs.
Kate pulls the slide back on her handgun and chunks a single bullet onto the floor. I sling my backpack off and grab the half empty whiskey bottle from the other night.
I soak a towel with some of the whiskey and crumble up the paper plate in the bottle. The doorknob violently twists and turns, and the sound of two people throwing their weight into the door causes the door frame to crackle.
I take the 22 bullet, put the tip in my mouth and clamp my molars down on the lead tip. The terrible flavor of metal fills my mouth and suffocates my tongue with its nasty, metallic taste. Saliva stirs around and coats my teeth and gums with the bitter cold taste of brass and lead.
I crank the round to the left, and the bullet tip comes off. Fluid dribbles down the side of my mouth as I spit the tip out and pour the gunpowder into the glass bottle.
"What's the holdup!?"
"They locked it!" Two men argue back and forth.
"Hurry up Matt!" Kate says.
"Almost done!"
"For fuck's sake!" Jack yells out.
The crackle of his military rifle sends a massive wave of sound through the house with enough force that it rattles my eardrums. Jack attempts to barge in, but bounces back from all the stuff Kate threw in front of the door. He constantly swears out loud and calls me and Kate every bad named ever imagined.
"I'm going to break this machete off in your ass! Just you wait!" Jack yells out as he slams into the door again. By the sound of it, he hasn't made much progress on opening the door. Maybe the dumbass will dislocate his shoulder at this rate. I'd yell something back, but I don't want to give my position away.
"Here's the plan. I need you to stay hidden in the room next to the stairs. I figure one will watch the front door while two search the house. The last one will be patrolling around and watching the windows." I say as I stick a rag into the bottle and tape it up.
"Once we take care of the ones in here, we'll carefully head outside and kill the last two unless they come in here."
Kate hands me a lighter and gets into position. Splintering wood crackles from the foundation of the doorway, and the hinges break off and skid across the ground. I sit the molotov on the ground and peek around the corner.
One set of footsteps click across the vinyl floor. They must be walking at the same exact pace to mask one another's sound. The blonde hair of an incoming man pops up from the staircase. I pull myself back into cover and try to clear my head.
My fearful emotions are rambling around in my head. My blood pressure feels like it's rising and my breathing wants to increase from a steady breath to a panicked inhale. I close my eyes and think about what's at stake. If I want to find Eric and the others again, then I have to do this. No matter how hard it is.
"They have no humanity Matt. It's either them or us, and they aren't going to hesitate." I say in my mind.
If I don't kill them, then they will kill me and take Kate back to Blair, and there's no telling what he will do to her. This is the new world. Morality does not exist anymore, and if I don't enforce what mom and dad taught me, there will be no one to stop people like Blair from having their way.
An ocean of rage swallows my body, and I immediately feel no remorse for what's about to happen. These people are bringing this on themselves. Blair's group tried to drown me, Jack wanted to beat Lauren to death back on the bus, they savagely tortured Kate's friends, Blair slapped Emily across her face for no reason. This is more than justified.
I gaze around the corner one more time and see that they are halfway up the stairs. I swing back around the corner and look at the room Kate's in. She's crouched behind a dresser and is diligently watching the stairs.
"There's a room overlooking the stairway. What do you want to do?" The guy following Jack asks.
"Since you have the rifle, I'll wait at the midway point of the stairs and bring up the back. Check those corners and behind the doors before you check a room. Your armor should protect you but don't depend on it." Jack replies with a faint whisper.
They are right on top of me, but I can't look around. The footsteps grow louder and louder with every passing second. I look into the room Kate's in. The moment the guy checks the corner, Kate rests her hunting rifle on the dresser and fires.
The sound of the gunshot is so loud that it shakes the pictures on the wall, and a wave of funneled concussion hits me from where I am sitting. The round rips through the tender flesh of the guy's exposed arm. He shrieks with pain and drops his rifle. Kate pulls the bolt back on her hunting rifle, but the guy dives towards the dresser she's behind.
A trail of red splashes on the floor as they chase one another around the dresser. I light the Molotov and bring my revolver up. Kate's bandaged fist hits the guy in the face and he slams against the wall. Jack rushes up the stairs with his machete drawn.
I pop out and fire. The 357 round connects with his chest and shreds the front plate of his armor. He drops his machete and stumbles back in a state of daze. His foot catches the edge of a stair, and he falls backwards. His head hits the wall, and he struggles to draw breath.
The shot wouldn't be enough to kill him, but it destroyed the plates protecting his chest. The armor may have saved his life, but it's going to feel like getting hit by a truck.
I pick up the Molotov and hurl it at Jack. He sees what I'm doing and rolls down the final fleet of stairs. The glass slams into the drywall and shatters. Orange flames gush from the fiery concoction and stains the side of the wall.
"Burn asshole!"
Jack yelps as some of the engulfed shards dig into the fabric of his armor and stick. It wasn't the result I wanted, but it will have to do. The melting paper and gunpowder will eat away at his armor.
I'd chase after him but Kate needs me right now. Her and the other guy are tossing each other round over the hunting rifle. Kate yanks the bolt back, slams it forward, opens it back open halfway and closes it again. The previous bullet that was chambered sticks halfway out of the bolt and receiver as she flips the safety on.
The guy pulls the weapon down and forces Kate off balance. She strikes him in the face with a closed fist as she hits the ground. He takes aim and pulls the trigger but nothing happens. I run over and hit him in the neck with my sink leg.
The barbed wire digs into his jugular, and he helplessly yields to the impact of the weapon. I rip it back, and he trips over the dresser. A fountain of crimson fluid gushes out of the open wound while he spasms on the ground. The barbed wire coil unravels and sticks in his neck as he finally lets out a final gasp and quits moving.
"You okay?" I ask as I stick my sink leg back on my pack.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
She picks her rifle back up, unjams it, reloads and flips the safety off, "Did you get the other one?"
I shake my head and pick up a towel, "No, but I destroyed his armor."
Kate follows me out, and we head to where I threw the molotov. Parts of the sheetrock wall are smoking with grey vapor and trying to smolder.
Kate watches over us while I pat the charred dots left on the wall and floor. Chunks of glass stick out of the wall, and sticky warm residue from the melted plastic foam acts like adhesive to the towel. The tiny cinders snuff out, and the wall stops smoking.
The sounds of someone's shoe sliding across the slick floor hits me in the ears and grabs my attention. I pull my revolver back up while Kate crouches down and aims up the stairs. Another guy from the group rushes around the corner, and helps Jack to his feet.
He notices where I'm at and shoves Jack out of the way. The revolver's hammer slams forward and sends a round into the guy's left eye. Blood, brain matter and pieces of shattered skull paint the countertop behind him red as he hits the ground instantly. Kate fires upstairs, and a body rolls down the stairs to where we are positioned. Kate loads a new round and sticks the barrel of her rifle to the back of the guy that rolled down.
The bullet shatters the back part of the guy's skull and his head bounces off the ground. A stream of blood splatters against Kate's pants. Now all that's left is Jack. We ease down the rest of the stairs and head for the front door.
Off in the distance, I can see Jack running off. Damnit. He's going to tell Blair that we were here. At least he doesn't know where we're hiding though. Kate raises her rifle, but I push it back down. He's over one hundred yards away. The chances of her missing are pretty high.
"Spare the bullet. We may need it later."
"Yes Matt."
"Let's search the place and head back before the rest of Blair's group shows up."
Kate heads to the second floor, and I check the bottom floor for anything useful since we aren't under the threat of attack right now. It looks like whoever lived here previously packed up and left in a hurry.
Most of the cabinets have nearly picked clean besides a couple stray cans of food way in the back. Two cans of canned sausage and a six pack of sealed mixed fruit. The defrosting fridge is empty, the liquor shelf has nothing, and the pantry is desolate. The only thing left is to search for is any car keys.
"You find anything Kate?"
"A couple guns with ammo, a machete, some rubbing alcohol and several bars of soap. What about you?"
"I got us some food for tonight. Looking for the key now."
If this house is anything like my old place, the key should be on top of the television. Kate sits everything on the couch and heads over to search the guy she just killed.
There are several sets of keys sitting in a pile of ring decorations and ordainments. I'm not taking the time to dig through all this and guess what model the car is. I grab all of them and stuff them in my pocket.
"Nothing on this one." Kate says as she finishes searching the guy laying on the stairway.
I head over and check the last member I killed. Something in his front pocket raddles as I roll him over. It sounds like coins jingling. I reach in and several elongated cylinders roll around in my palm. There's no telling what ammo it is, but if I can't use it, someone else can.
I pull my hand out and sift through the silver jacket bullets. Out of the ten bullets, only three haven't been spent. I'll save these though. They're 38. Special, but they are nickel plated hollow points.
"You ready to go?" I ask.
"I found all I could."
Kate picks up what she can, and we head to the garage. Gears, pistons and wrenches lay all over the ground as several antique cars are scattered throughout the area. Most of them are missing engines, radiators and headlights. The rusty red jeep in the middle still looks functional, but it's easily the oldest vehicle in the garage.
"We'll try this one."
Kate checks the back seat of the jeep while I pop the hood and make sure it isn't missing something like a spark plug or a battery. Everything seems to be in place. Which means this junker is probably our best bet out of here.
"I hope you know how to drive a standard, because I don't." Kate says as she opens the garage door.
"I got the basic premise down." I reply as I try to find the Jeep's ignition key. There's a black plastic tab with a car's insignia on it. It doesn't match the model of the jeep so it's out. The next one is just a plain metal key. It slides halfway but gets stuck.
"Nope."
I put the grey one in. It goes all the way in, but it won't turn over. I pull around on the steering wheel just to make sure the lock isn't blocking the way.
"Negative."
I stick the final key in, and it finally turns the jeep over. The pistons crank the engine and all the gauges suddenly jump from one end to the other before falling back down their original position.
"Will I need a seatbelt for your driving?" Kate teases as she sits down in the passenger's seat.
"No, because I actually passed my driver's test the first time." I reply as I push the brake and clutch down.
"Aren't you a comedian!" Kate replies as she puts her seatbelt on anyway. I shift into neutral, release the e brake and advance into first gear. The rubber tires gently slide across the concrete floor and bite into the gravel driveway.
"This thing off road?" Kate asks.
"I don't know, but we're about to find out." I reply as I ease off the gravel and onto a dirt path leading into the woods…