Chapter Three: My Crappy Luck

I kept moving throughout the night, keeping a careful eye on the path ahead of me as well as the path I had just traveled. Hefting my pack higher I check over my remaining arrows in the quiver. I started out with a set of twelve but had steadily lost them over the last four months even with my being careful. I lost the first one to carelessness while outrunning an overweight zombie wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' apron. Two were stuck in the fleshy hindquarters of some angry deer. I had since learned that venison was not going to be on MY menu anytime soon. I'd lost another four to bad shots against the occasional zombie and my last one was broken saving a very muddy werewolf.

But now I was down to my last four arrows and if I didn't become more careful and stop trying to be the hero I would be eating much longer. Pickings were getting slimmer. Winter was approaching and the small animals that I subsisted on were becoming harder to find. The mustang grapes, dew berries, and other wild fruits had long disappeared and the few towns I dared enter had been reaped of any usable goods.

I tried to avoid towns at all costs. I had to be truly desperate to pass into a town's more structured areas. My last trip into town, while successful, had almost cost me my life.

Like many towns these days, it looked deserted. Cars were left where they were abandoned in the street, some with doors flung wide open others with windows smashed it, the crusted brown remains of what once were bloody streaks tipping the jagged shards. I worked my way slowing into town, taking my time to look for zombies, Others, or even humans. Except for the occasional plastic bag whipped up by the wind, the town seemed empty. I entered the first small grocery store I came to, Molly's Mart, looking for anything that had been left behind.

The store had been stripped down to the metal shelves. After checking for escape routes and looking for traps I checked and double checked every nook of the store. I was just about to leave, dejected and empty handed that I heard the soft rustle. In the movies zombies always make a moaning sound as they walk. In real life they are almost utterly silent. There's no breathing, no heartbeat, no body twitches to give them away. If not for the plastic grocery bag twisted around its foot, I would not have seen him in time.

As it was I barely had time to scramble to the top of the empty shelving unit, the highest point just inches out of the zombies reach. I struggled to keep my balance as it clawed and savaged the shelf. Placing a shoeless foot on the lowest ledge the zombie stepped upward pulling the whole section off balance and I toppled forward.

My luck is fairly crappy. Nothing good has happened to me and yet I seem to survive. If I was still a glass half full person, I would say it was good luck but regaining consciousness with a zombie pinned an arm's length away, jaws clicking and snapping at you just doesn't feel anything closely related to 'good'.

I did find four round canisters of salt that had rolled under the selves. I gathered them quickly and headed back to the road. Salt was a needed commodity these days and had a growing trade value. If my crappy luck held, these containers could help me survive the coming winter.

The close knit trees and tangles of brambles forced me onto a small two lane road so that I could continue. Roads are dangerous. Zombies traveled them in roving herds; mindless in the direction they traveled but deadly if they came upon a person unable to out run them. Not that zombies were incredibly fast, they only moved as fast they could run while still alive but they never tired and could track a person until they collapsed from exhaustion.

I felt exposed on the open road, as if I was being constantly watched. It was a cold icy feeling up my spine but it could just be the dropping temperature. Cresting a small hill I found myself face to drooling face with my worst nightmare: zombies. They were eating the carcass of a deer and as one turned toward me, alerted by the startled exhale that slipped past my lips.

Oh, SHIT!

Turning on my heel, I ran for the trees knowing that losing them in the dense forest was my best hope of surviving the day but the sides of the road were lined with deep runoff ditches and the forest was lined with a tangle of undergrowth that blocked my way from entering the safety of its shadows. I was forced to keep to the road, running full out until I came to a small turn off, more of a dirt driveway. Hoping for a small miracle I turned down the lane only to find myself practically running over another zombie after the first bend in the lane.

Could my luck get any worse?

I pulled my dagger from its sheath, stabbing toward its putrid eye, as it pulled my down, teeth snapping inches away from my face and neck. I managed to drive the blade deep into its eye but was trapped under the weight of his body. Struggling out from under the weight of the massive man, I was grabbed by the next zombie. Stabbing wildly, I lost my blade as I twisted to avoid the bite of the next shuffling corpse as it came toward me in a mindless rush.

Pressing my bow against the teeth of the next one, I was barely able to keep it away from me as its hands clawed into my shoulders ripping the fabric of my shirt and skin. I couldn't hear the others moving up the lane but I knew they were on their way. All I could think was that this was how I was going to die, alone in some backwoods. I didn't even know what state I was in.

God, I hope they eat me down to the bone. I don't want there to be enough of me left to turn.

I could see the mob heading my way over its mottled shoulder. The closest was a female with the bottom of her jaw torn off only her upper teeth jutting out, what was left of her tongue dangling down her neck. Behind her came a large man, one eye completely eaten by carrion crows and the other was hanging loosely from its socket. At least two more followed behind. I gave a despairing heave knowing I had mere seconds before I would be overwhelmed by their numbers.

A blur struck the group from the side pushing them out of my view. I continued to struggle with the one on top of me but I was getting weaker by the second. My diet of mostly starvation broken occasionally by a half cooked rodents had made me weak. Adrenaline only lasted so long. Mine was almost out.

Yellow teeth strained downward making my bow creak with the effort to keep them away from my body. I turned my head so that the zombie's drool didn't drip into my mouth. Yeah, I was seconds away from death but that was just gross. Thick saliva slithered down the side of my cheek but it was the smell that would haunt my nightmares. If I lived long enough to have nightmares. Thick and cloying, it caught in the back of my throat so that I could taste it as well as smell the putrid scent.

I caught a scant glimpse of claws; the light gleamed briefly off their tips as they snaked out from the side and ripped the head off the zombie. Its body dropped on top of me with a suddenness that knocked the breath from my chest. I pushed at the dead thing, or would that be really dead thing, dumping him off as I turned to face my savior.

It was the black wolf from the mire. His fur was mud free, ruffled gently by the wind but his eyes were still crimson red and his jaws were huge, dripping with saliva, foam and pieces of zombie. Panic took over and I ran, leaving my pack and bow behind as I fled back toward the road with a werewolf on my heels.

I was almost back to the asphalt road when the wolf slammed into me from behind. I skidded across the gravel, my hands and chest taking most of the damage as the large werewolf ground me under his body. His teeth surrounded my neck, the lower jaw's teeth resting on the left of my neck and the upper teeth against my right, sharp fangs pressing into my pulse points. When he growled it traveled causing his teeth to vibrate against my delicate veins, tearing a high frantic whimper from my throat.

It was probably only seconds but it seemed like years. The wolf pressed against my back, his teeth just a mere skin's breath from tearing my throat out, if not my whole head from my body, and my brain was helpfully supplying that at least I wouldn't end up as a zombie.

Which apparently I said out loud because the werewolf chuckled. He chuckled! He lifted up, his weight shifting until he just straddled my lower body, his knees framing my hips and his body resting against the back of my thighs.

"Running from a werewolf is like waving a red flag to a bull. It just gives us a target." His voice rumbled, deep and guttural, the sound only slightly mangled as his tongue worked around sharp fangs to form words.

"You know the whole red thing is just a myth. Bulls are color blind. You could wave a bright purple paisley blanket at them and it would have the same effect. And in case I haven't been clear on my stance on being eaten, please don't. I'm sure I taste awful. I'm thin and bony and would make a horrible meal."

"I'm not going to eat you." He stood up, completely naked except for the fur. Thank God there was lots of fur. Moving back down the road he retrieved my packs and my knife before turning back. I slowly pulled myself up, brushing the gravel gently off my bleeding hands. The wolf walked past my, pulling the handle of my pack over his shoulder and cleaning my knife on the fur of his leg.

Seizing my bow and arrows, noting with disgust that I had broken another one in the struggle, I followed the wolf back toward the small, two lane road.

"Hey, that's mine." I called out to his back.

The werewolf turned with what must have been a smile on his muzzle. It wasn't a friendly look. "I thought we would make a trade. Your life," he motioned toward me with a clawed hand. "For these." The wolf held my pack up so it swung slightly back and forth. "I think that's fair. Don't you? I could have let the zombies eat you and then take your pack once they left. If you don't like this trade I can rectify your status as a living creature, if that's what you want." He took a slow step in my direction.

"Nope," I bleated as I quickly backed away. "That's a totally fair trade. No rectifying of my status needed. I will just be on my way." Holding my bow and quiver close to my chest, hoping that the wolf wouldn't decide that he needed more for his trade, I hurried to the asphalt road and back up the hill. Once past the remains of the deer, I broke into a run and kept running until my lungs screamed for air and my legs buckled beneath me. Finding a rusting drainage pipe covered by a tangle of dying vines, I curled into a small ball and hoped that I was out of sight from anything traveling the road that might be looking for a human snack cake. The tears came unbidden and I let them fall as I fell into an exhausted and uneasy sleep.