NEW CHAPTER! A nice long chapter for you guys. I personally like this one, and I hope you will too. THANK YOU THANK YOU for reading this thing. You all are seriously the best readers in the world. Please Please Please review. More reviews equal more story. And if you have any suggestions PM me, because I'd love to hear 'em. ENJOYYY!
39: Blowing Off Steam
Life on the open road was easy to get used to again, just like riding a bike which had also became a part of my routine. Whatever atrophy had built up during my stint at the safe house was righted almost immediately by the feel of the steering wheel and the smell of the open road. The wind gusting through the car with hints of that asphalt scent, the way the motor purred as I pushed down on the accelerator, the sound of the stereo blaring, it was all that I'd hoped it would be after being cooped up for so long. Freedom. Real freedom. Finally. I didn't even mind not showering. I didn't even mind barely sleeping. I didn't mind any of it.
The first week flew by so quickly with my new day-to-day activities. Every morning I'd travel into whatever town I happened to be close to, scavenge for breakfast and force it down my gullet, kill off any and all walkers I saw, check if there were any signs survivors nearby, check for any clue that the old group had been through, and by then it was time to find myself some dinner. Once I choked down whatever I could find I'd refill the gas tank, search for any supplies I might need, and get on my way. It was simple with the size of the towns I'd been passing through. Most of them only had about 1,000 people to start with. The way I saw the math was like this, of that thousand 250-500 people turned, and whoever didn't became dinner, and then you have to take into account that that dinner probably had a gun, so say 100 or so of those turned were dead because of that, then there's the fact that it'd been over a year so most of the undead had probably wandered off. That left me with around 150-200 walkers to deal with in each town. That was easy. It was easy. Clearing those towns was the easiest thing I'd ever done since taking Introduction to Drawing freshman year. It was simple. It was effortless. It was lonely.
I was smack in the middle of my fourth week when I came across a raccoon on one of my trips into town. Again, the smell had led me running to it just like that black bear and again it nearly drove me insane to just leave the thing. I wanted to rip it apart. I wanted to have myself a good meal for once. But I didn't. All I could do was think of what Joey had said, think of my first hunting trip. "Only if I need to," I'd repeat until I got back to the car. Only if I need to. That was my code. Only if I need to. That's how I'd deal with anything other than walkers. And frankly, even if I needed to kill anything I don't think I would have eaten it. Eating meat would be giving into the temptation. Giving into the hunger. I didn't want to find out where that led.
The fifth week brought both good and bad. In keeping with tradition, bad news first; I hadn't found any sign of the old gang. With this I began to worry that I went in the wrong direction from the start. I'd went North and they'd went South. "One more week. No sign after one week and I'll turn around," I promised myself as I siphoned the last drops of gas from a green Honda Accord. As squirrel ran across the street and into a nearby tree I didn't even flinch. The heavenly aroma filling my lungs and my stomach growing queasier by the second, but I didn't falter. I just stood up and moved to the next car. That was part of the good news. I might not know what had happened to me when I was bitten, but I was getting a grip on the hunger. Hunger was easy. I just had to not give in, and the more I resisted the more I understood it all. That was the best I could hope for at the time being. I started on siphoning the next car's gas when a walker slowly moved down the street, not even noticing me. That's the second part of the good news. The zombies no longer gave a shit if I was around, part of my curse. A new trait of mine that made me question my own humanity, albeit a useful one. I pulled the knife from its sheath and calmly walked over to the straggler, plunging the knife into his skull and walking back to the car. The more they ignored me, the more I found it necessary to kill them. Something about proving I wasn't one of them, and it worked like a charm.
-o0o-
Six weeks, almost forty towns, and nothing to show for it but a bit of self-control. As I sat in my car, looking at the barren town before me, the sun just coming out and showing the remains of some poor saps who didn't make it. That could have been the group. That could've been Carl. I couldn't help but beat myself up after the thought. I should have turned around the second I didn't find anything. I should have known better. I was supposed to be the Annie that made sense of this world, but I made the same shortsighted mistakes as everyone else. I pulled the map out of the glove compartment and ran my finger over the line I had drawn to show myself the path I'd taken, each town had little notes as well as the roads. Brief description, the number of undead killed, any useful supplies I'd left behind. "Shit," I shoved the map back in the glove compartment. I stepped out of the car, throwing a tarp over it as a precaution, and checking that all my weapons were in place. "This is the last town," I promised myself. I'll clear this place and then head back. Then I'll find them. I unhooked the bike from the rack and took my seat. This is what I always did, park on the outskirts of town and then bike in the rest of the way. It was quiet. It was safe. It was necessary.
The outer streets were crawling with walkers as I pedaled down Main Street, only to find it had been blocked off by a large riot-proof stage. Lining the edges just behind the barricade there was a row of speakers, and in the center a microphone on a stand just beside a table with a few overturned chairs and what had to be a generator. A banner tied up from the roofs of the opposing buildings and hanging just above it read 'Don't Panic.' Something about the sight made me laugh softly, thinking back to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Don't panic. The best advice anyone can give at a time like this. I looked at the corpses that littered the area by the stage, "I guess they panicked." I laughed to myself as I biked up to the door of the adjacent gun shop. There were three deadheads in there, and with three swift jabs with my knife they were done for. I looked over the supplies. The smaller guns were always the first things to be looted, and this case was no different. Now all that was left were the bigger models. "Of course," I looked through the ammo they had and found a few things that looked promising, setting them out on the counter.
Then I had a thought.
Just a little musing that crept in as I spotted the stage through the window and eyed the monstrous weaponry.
"I could wipe 'em all out in just a few minutes," I whispered to myself as I carefully slid out the door and made my way across the street. I examined the stage, carefully moving a part of the blockade to let myself through. The speaker system seemed intact, and the generator still had gas left in it. "Promising," I smirked to myself before heading back into the shop. Large guns. Hilariously large guns, with enormous bullets. The most useless things in the world during the apocalypse. I went through everything, loading them up and placing them into a large gun bag. As I put the shells into a shotgun I couldn't help but get a ridiculous smile on my face. I needed this. My time on the road had been all work and no play, and Jack was becoming such a dull boy. I kept at it, growing more excited by the second as I shoved round after round into the various chambers. Once I was done I had two large bags full of big guns just waiting to mow down some zombies. I did a scan of the shop and noticed a small towel hanging off the back counter.
A towel. I thought back to the large 'Don't Panic' sign and grabbed the rag, tucking it into my back pocket and quoting with a laugh, "A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have." I lugged the bags off the ground and made my way out as the straps dug into my shoulders. It was difficult maneuvering up the steps to the stage, but I managed. Setting the bags onto the table and taking out the firearms I felt that something was missing. You know that nagging feeling, like when you've forgotten to turn off the oven, or you can't remember if you locked your car or not? That's the one. I pulled the chairs to just in front the microphone stand and slid the table behind it. It looked perfect, each weapon ready to fire, ready to be picked up at a moment's notice. But still the feeling persisted. It wasn't right. Something wasn't right. I scanned the buildings. Convenience store. Liquor store. A Radio Shack. A record store. Some crappy clothing store. Wait. I turned my head back to the Radio Shack. "That's it." I ran down and entered the store, knife drawn. Nothing. No walkers, no bodies, just the precious precious electronics. I walked over to the stereos. I didn't need anything special. I just needed something that would run to the speakers. Once I found the right one I made my way out and popped into the record store. Scanning the CDs, smiling as I remembered doing this exact same thing with Amanda. Prowling the stacks to find something good, laughing at all the shitty bands we used to like. "What would she pick?" I thought about it for a second before something caught my eyes. "Bowie." I grabbed the single for Golden Years and made my way back to the stage to set everything up.
It only took me a few minutes due to the fact that the whole system was relatively basic. Any more complicated and I wouldn't have been able to. Once everything was set I turned on the generator, flicked on the microphone, and hit power on the stereo.
I tapped the mic and the feedback rang through the streets, "Testing. Testing." Tap, tap, tap, "Testing." A lone walker about a football field down the street turn around at the noise and started limping in my direction. "Perfect," I smiled as I continued to speak, "All you undead bastards come take a number and I'll see you in a moment." I grabbed the nearest and smallest of the guns and cocked it, the sound reverberated through the street. I could see them coming from the adjacent streets, "And don't worry, I'll make sure to get to all of you before the day is out." I pushed play on the music player and hit the repeat button.
The second the music started blasting I couldn't help but smile. The street was starting to fill and I put my mouth over the mic, "Golden years, gold, whop whop whop." As they grew closer I shot a few of them, "Don't let me hear you say, life's taking you nowhere, angel. Come get up my baby." I continued humming along as I emptied the gun into various heads. "There's my baby, lost that's all. Once I'm begging you to save her little soul." There was something to this. The makeshift crowd of, well they were people once right, all surrounding the stage as I sang. This is what rock stars must feel like. On top of the world. I pulled up my next gun, dancing as I did it. Singing, dancing, shooting. It was the most fun I'd had in so long, the most fun I'd had on my own that's for sure. As the bullets flew and the bodies fell I began to pick up on a scent. It must've been a bigger animal, the smell was so strong. "Focus," I continued to shoot. I tried my best to keep my mind occupied by singing louder, as if it would counteract the smell. Counteract the hunger. I could swear it was getting worse. I could barely see straight as I switched to one of the largest guns. I unloaded the thing, leaving only a few left. The pile of bodies was much more massive than I had originally expected. I'd have to carry my bike out a bit once I was through, "Run for the shadows. Run for the shadows. Run for the shadows in these golden years." Final gun. I quickly tore through the remaining walkers just as the scent hit me full on.
I keeled over, breakfast spilling out of me. When the breakfast was gone the heaving didn't stop. MY stomach kept contracting. I kept spewing up bile. I was so hungry. I just wanted a decent meal, just one. Remember what Joey said. Remember hunting. Only if I need to. Only if I need to. Don't give in. "Shit," I whispered as my stomach continued to churn. I grabbed the towel from my back pocket and covered my nose, relieving the hunger slightly.
"What's wrong with you? Eat some spoiled food?" I looked up from the vomit-covered stage and saw a tall woman decked out in camouflage click off the stereo. "Quite a show you put on, I gotta admit." She moved closer and lazily held out her hand. I just stared at it for a second. "You gonna get up or what?" I took her hand and she pulled me up. Everything in me wanted to rip her to pieces. Only if I need to. I stood away from her once I got to my feet, "Shy one, eh?" She looked over the used guns, "I wouldn't have come by, but I love Bowie." I weakly smiled under the towel. "You got a name?"
"Annie," I choked out, trying my best not to breathe.
"Annie," she raised her eyebrows in what looked like approval. "Well, you sure can handle yourself. Bit more flair than I like, but what are you gonna do?" She shrugged her shoulders. Then her eyes fell onto my bite wound. It had healed over the weeks, but it was still visible. "You bit?"
"Before all this," I lied.
"Do I smell or something?" she gestured to the rag. I hesitated at first, then slowly lowered the towel back to its home in my back pocket. Only if I need to. Only if I need to. "Well aren't you just adorable," she did something with her mouth then, I think it was the way she smiled. So I smiled back. Only if I need to. Only if I need to. "Name's Riley," she held out her hand once more and we shook. There was something in the way she stood, like she didn't give a rats ass that I was there, at least not really. Her short hair suited her, and if anything it just made her all the more terrifying and all the more beautiful. Here I was, easy pickings. She could have easily taken one of the many knives she was carrying and lodged it into my eye socket, but she didn't. Something stopped her. Maybe she had her own code, her own mantra that kept her human. As she stood there, towering over me, scanning the street to look at my handiwork, I felt truly vulnerable for the first time.
I didn't know it at the time or I'd probably relaxed a bit more, but she'd later become my salvation.
Yay! New character! The lovely Riley (wonderful addition to the story) was created by one of my beloved beta-readers, LivinJgrl123, so all credit for that gem of an OC goes to her! :)