"Run!" Bill hollered hoarsely against the torrent of blood that had begun to rapidly fill his mouth, but Zoey's body refused to listen, her legs wouldn't move; they felt cold and far away, somewhere behind her in the darkness, she wanted to help him, but all she could do was watch. Watch as the mutated beast tossed Bill's limp body through the room with its enormous misshaped arm, it was only when a flash of blood scattered at her feet did she find her voice. "Oh my god Bill!" The words poured from her mouth in shock, and abruptly she could feel a sudden twinge of guilt coil in her stomach, but instinct immediately rang it out, driving her to move away in fear of the creature.
Only a few moments had passed when Zoey realized she had backed up all the way to the wall, but before she could think again, a warm pair of hands jerked her cold arm from her side, and yanked her away from the violent scene. She stumbled awkwardly, tripping over her feet before a familiar voice boomed over her "Move!" Louis barked, now towing her through the narrow doorway and into the long hallway. "What about Bill!?" She protested weakly against his grasp by trying to pull away, but he did not release her, "He's dead! Leave him."
Dead. The word hit Zoey especially hard, she could feel her head begin to spin wildly, an abrupt loss of her balance. Dead. She wanted to turn back, and go see for herself, but she wasn't certain she had strength. To reach Bill, she'd have to first kill that mutated infected. Dead.
He wasn't looking at her now, he was looking ahead while he pulled her along the dim corridor, they paused as a few putrid looking and just as putrid smelling pair of infected darted from an open door, breaking the frame from the wall in their assault. Louis effortlessly turned and blew them away with a single round from his shotgun pumping it again to rid himself of the old shell. The shower decapitated the infected couple and painted the walls in a vibrant scarlet sheet composed of their scattered remains. At that moment she wanted to only go to the corner to either puke from the smell or just cry from the shock.
But there wasn't time, and with a ferocious crash Zoey's attention turned again as the lifeless body of Bill was tossed through the wall. Debris had flung across the floor dispersing itself through the hallway. The unearthly beast emerged and let out an incoherent howl before tucking its arm in and hurtling toward Louis, who had already begun to unload round after round into its robust body. "Fucking run!" He snapped at her stupefied face to make her move while the brawny infected fiend found itself stunned from the rounds. It shook its head like a raving mad and distorted pit bull with stumpy back legs that didn't match the larger muscled front appendages. It was far too confused to follow them.
Zoey stood idly in the corridor for a few moments behind the bright gun fire, she knew if she kept fighting him, kept stalling, she would only find herself in the same shoes as Bill. Perhaps this alone ought to have given her pause, but she didn't let it. She took a deep breath. And started to run down the long hallway.
She hadn't gone more than five steps before she sensed motion coming from an open door to her right, one of the zombies stumbled from the bedroom and reached out for her but was blown away by Louis, "Run girl!"
This time she wouldn't protest, He'll be fine, Zoey thought as she watched the exit grow larger in their approach. "Why won't you die!" Louis shouted from behind, his voice droned out by the sound of his gun discharging its rounds, Zoey didn't realize Louis had fallen behind.
"Only a little further!" She encouraged with a shout while her feet carried her swiftly across the tiled floor. Finally approaching the doorway she immediately shoved at it to open with shaking hands. It rattled, but refused to budge, baffled she let out a panicked laugh, "Louis help!" she turned around for him, but he was gone. Blood was everywhere, across the walls and floor, one of the doors had been broken down, and Zoey took a hesitant step forward, only to step back at the sound of the distorted jargon of moans that collected down the hall and grew closer, and she knew soon enough they would find her. And then there would be no escape.
Like ice water she could feel her body spill over with abrupt anxiety, her frantic emerald eyes hunted desperately through the narrow corridor for his figure. "Louis!" She cried out in again a shrill panic, but to no avail. She was all alone.
I can't stall.
Zoey could feel her eyes begin to haze over with tears while she stood lingering in the perilous corridor, but refused to cry, all knowing if she broke down then and there she was as good as dead. Her body wracking with tremors, she faced the door again, her mind raced, and part of her wanted to give in, wanted to run toward the zombies and embrace her death. But to give in would be to accept yet another failure here, to have had her friends die in vain, and Zoey couldn't bring herself to do that. She took a ragged breath, leaned back and threw her leg out with a violent kick, the door buckled against her foot, and with a sickening sound the organic adhesive shattered and threw the door open dispersing chunks of gunk across the pavement outside. A sharp twinge shot up her leg from her ankle as it collided with the door, causing her to shriek against the brusque unrelenting pain.
As the door was tossed open, Zoey could feel a wave of balmy air roll over her from outside, it promised freedom and escape. And the brief thought of escaping drove her blindly forward through the doorway and into the derelict parking lot before her. It was dark, and lit only by the murky orange glow of the weak lamp posts at the center of the lot, shining everything into a strange, short illumination.
Clumsily Zoey staggered forward, breaking her fall with her hands she collapsed across the pavement, stunned. Stunned from the immense pressure in her ankle, she laid there in agonizing pain, in a desperate attempt to place the ache on some mental level she could tolerate. With a pathetic attempt she tried to pull herself to her feet. But it would not resign, and she collapsed again, her ankle pulsed as if it had a heart beat of its own, with each push of her heart it brought with it a of surge of pain that streamed through her leg, making her rasp for each breath.
Zoey collapsed once again across the cold dark pavement at the center of the parking lot, gasping against the pain. She lifted her head and cringed, before opening her eyes to search her surroundings, peering through the pools of shadows. To each side of her towered tall haggard buildings, hollowed out remnants of humankind. Some were slightly lit by the smoldering flames inside. In others she could make out the vague figures which shuffled from behind the windows. After a brief glance around her, she lowered her gaze back to the empty lot, and realized she had been laying in the open, that any infected could of easily picked her off and she wouldn't of been ready. She scanned the dark corners of the lot for some form of refuge, when a large black structure caught her eye, she stopped and stared, peering through the night, when a large dumpster ridden with graffiti began to form.
Slowly she dragged herself from view to be hidden in the oily shadow cast from a bulky dumpster. When she made made it to safety, shock had blown away her fear to bring a laugh which immediately stifled itself upon the realization of the need for secrecy. What did she plan on doing now? It was dark outside and it immediately heightened her panic. For some reason she felt like she'd be OK as long as it was light out. It was the dark that frightened her and the prospect of wading through the expansive pools of shadows alone with the walking nightmares around.
She shouldn't have been the one to survive, she knew, it should of been Bill. He wouldn't have been scared to watch the sun start it's long journey westward. Food, water, and shelter. He would of had a plan for all of these, different from hers. This wasn't a plan at all really. Even the brief thought of Bill made her cringe at the memory of his limp body being thrown around ruthlessly by the beast. It spun her stomach into tightly wound knots that made her feel sick. She could still see his contorted excruciatingly painful expression printed to the back of her eyelids as he screamed during his own murder.
Dead. The word haunted her again, she could feel a swell of despair rise up from her stomach. They had survived for so long she didn't think her friends were capable of dying, capable of being dead. Zoey didn't want to continue anymore, yet even as she sat there searching for a reason to give in, she knew she had no choice, she could never convince herself to truly give up. Bill, Francis, and Louis were gone, and it seemed like this ought to have changed everything. But the world was carrying on, and she had to move with it. She had to plan, always plan, because that's what it meant to be alive.
In her brief respite she could feel her blood pumping rapidly in her veins in a prosaic flow. It mirrored with the loud thrumming in her ears. The obstinate tears she had concealed earlier began to reemerge and this time they refused to be ignored. Immediately they spilled over her paled cheeks in a steady glistening stream to her chin to merge into small pools of tears that dripped over her jacket. A humming had risen in Zoey's skull, hunger or fatigue or fear. She couldn't have said which, knew only that one would account for it just as well as any other. She was far too worn-out for anything as vigorous as anger to have much hold over her. She shook her head.
After a few minutes of counting the beats of her heart as they slowly returned to a calm tolerable rhythm, Zoey ran her arm over her eyes to wipe away the stream of tears across her cheeks.
I need to plan.
She lifted a small jug of water from her belt band, uncapped it, and drank. It helped her nausea enough to help her stand, and in her other hand she pulled a small pistol from her pocket. It was silly, but for some reason that tiny gun felt like her only salvation. Now, there was nothing left for her to do but leave. So that was what she did, the sweat making her hand feel slippery on the handle of the gun, that humming sound rising and falling in her head. I'm okay, she said to herself, I can do this. I'm alive. She kept repeating these words as she stepped out from the shadows, and into the grim glow of the lamps.
There was a sudden eerie change of mood as the orange glow of light enveloped her, she could taste it on her lips, could feel it raise goosebumps across her flesh. And as if suddenly aware of Zoey's discomfort, the culprit sloshed out a throaty cough from above, billowing a plume of smoke that fell from the ledge of a nearby building. Immediately Zoey recognized the familiar warning of the special infected, the distorted sound echoed off the walls of the enclosed parking lot. She stared across the clearing that led to the adjacent buildings, searching for the Smoker, when they immediately met with the frosty glare of a lanky infected male. His posture weighed down by one side from the weight of the immense tongue that protruded from his mouth.
Fear clouded her mind, she lifted the gun toward the infected man with an awkward aim of her right arm, the gun felt shaky in the weak grip of her fingers, the thrumming in her head blurred her vision. She shot off a few rounds toward where she believed the smoker stood, but the sound of the bullets against the brick walls confirmed her lousy aim. It was stupid of course, she knew she would miss, and in response Zoey fell forward and awkwardly lumbered to her uninjured foot in an attempt to flee, but with each futile hop she cringed in pain. Zoey could hear him sputter and cough something up from the roof top high above her. Anxiety pumping itself frantically through her body as she stumbled along the extended tendril took hold of her, grappling its filthy tongue around her waist heaving her backwards violently.
"HELP ME!" Zoey shrieked, and it frightened her how weak her voice sounded now. The tongue tightened the air from her lungs and began to crush her body, causing her grimace against the immense pain. She fought the best she could with the little energy she had left, struggling to rise again, and again, but it was already too late. The will to fight was slowly ebbing away with her strength.
Eventually she stopped fighting altogether, laying motionless across the cold pavement, she felt calmer, the pain didn't lessen, but a sense of distance was washing over her, so that it almost began to feel as if she were observing her body's distress rather than inhabiting it. I'm dying, She thought to herself. Everything was becoming increasingly blurry now, not just her vision, but her thoughts too. I'm dying...
BOOM!
The sound had pulled her back violently, making everything real again. Real enough so that the pain made her wish she had never returned. Zoey had seen the faint glow of gunfire in the corner of her eye, had heard the smoker make his guttural gasp at the wake of the loud discharge. The long extended tongue miraculously loosened across her body, and sagged across the ground behind her. Yielding its relentless heave, she was left lying helplessly on her back. All she could do is stare into the starless sky which had been covered in a perennial fog of clouds. It was if the night denied Zoey any light to pull hope from.
She could make out the sudden sound of footsteps thud their way across the parking lot. Zoey's mind immediately began to race at the horrific circumstances. How could she fend off a zombie in her state? The thuds grew steadily closer. Wincing in fear she prepared for the worst and held her breath forgetting entirely to hope for the best.
"Up we go," A young man said enthusiastically above her, while he hauled her arm over his shoulders and pulled her upright. Zoey threw her rescuer a bewildered stare. A blond man, sporting a baseball cap, and a dirty T-shirt examined her, and just possibly for a moment he looked pleasantly surprised and shot her a handsome grin.
She wanted to thank him, her lips formed to speak but shock had stopped the words in her throat, and she could only blink at him.
"Don't worry 'bout it darlin,' " He responded.
Their attention was abruptly torn from each other when one of the man's companions who had been dressed in an entirely white suit, stood in the doorway of a building across the parking lot. Throwing his hands up in frustration he shouted angrily "Get your hick ass in here Ellis!"
"Calm down, calm down! Quit your hollerin'!" He shouted behind him.
He returned his eyes to Zoey before politely warning, "Pardon me miss," and quickly lifted her up into his arms. He immediately broke into an easy sprint carrying her across the parking lot before passing through a door.
As his comrade shut the door securely behind him cutting away the murky lamp light of the parking lot. Zoey could feel her head begin to swim in the dim light causing stars to swirl in her eyesight. Zoey closed her eyes momentary, and before she knew it, she fell unconscious.
Zoey tossed another Cheetos from her bag into the air, attempting to catch it with a swift chomp.
"No please don't!" A damsel cried placing her hand over her forehead in a lurid gesture of distress. The image flickering in and out from behind the bleary unfocused monitor of the small TV she had placed at the foot of her bed.
She couldn't help but laugh when the cliché looking zombie moaned incoherently while stumbling into the path of the camera. How impractical and silly, "You can run," Zoey commented as if the black and white image would heed her advice and evade the lumbering actor.
"I really should be studying," she thought while growing bored of the trite black and white film on the small TV. Zoey sent a furtive glance toward the neatly piled stack of books which lay stagnant on the desk.
Zoey blinked away the dream and peered out from behind her eyelashes. Everything was eerily unfocused and she couldn't see much. She felt like crap though, tired, and aching in her muscles. She felt thickheaded with exhaustion and it was dark; a bit too dark; it hurt her eyes in the dim light to strain to pull things into some visible semblance of themselves. Zoey was lying on her back, a thin pile of blankets beside her, but that was all she could see. She could remember wondering sleepily about the gentle rise and fall of the mattress against her back... How was it possible that she were laying on her back? Abruptly comprehension dawned and she shot up like a badly wound toy.
In her hurry to sit up she felt a sudden wave of vertigo rush over her and causing her eyesight to blend the surroundings into a mixture of water colors and distorted voices. Zoey's brain had been in a constant effort to manage and process the events prior to her black out. Bill, Louis, and Francis, These names passed themselves gently across her lips while she repeated them in her unrelenting mantra.
She could faintly recall the being attacked and then rescued by some handsome guy. It was distant recalling but like recalling a long forgotten memory and it was there none the less. "Not dead yet." She assured herself confidently while watching as the mix of colors began to form her surroundings.
She was in a safe room that wasn't exactly that big with boxes that were piled up over each other and took up the half the room. Eyes watched her intently through the buttery flickering of the dim overhead light. Zoey stared down the barrels of their weapons which had been pointed toward her and gulped. Her mind asked, "Oh god, oh god, what the hell did I do wrong this time?" Her appearance must have put their worries to rest because they lowered their weapons shortly afterward. Zoey's mind couldn't help but answer itself, "Did I shoot one of their friends?" They were a desperate-looking bunch now that she looked a little closer. The people looked dirty and with their clothes falling off their bodies. The three men had unshaven beards with thick stubble and on in particular wore a white suit was covered in blood but if it bothered him he didn't show it.
A tall thin dark-skinned female turned to Ellis, "Who is she?" She asked, "Is she immune?" Her voice was assertive and concerned. The woman revolved her gaze between Nick and Ellis, in the manner of fashion that a mother would use while scolding her children.
"What do you think? Does she LOOK infected?" Nick was the first to recover and retort. He was annoyed of course at Rochelle's mocking stare which he casually averted his own gaze and focused on loading his shotgun. Rochelle sent him another glare this time, far more venomous then the previous, but generally ignored his wise crack.
Ellis scratched his his head nervously and in an attempt to lighten the mood was about to speak when another overcoming voice barked "Jesus Christ you two! Ain't none of this shit matter anyways! She's human! She's coming with us!" Coach had simply shouted it out to interrupt and conclude the quarrel between them before turning his focus on girl in the cot. "What's your name baby girl?" He asked trying his best to steady his voice.
Zoey looked up at the heavy set man who had addressed her and the question distracted her from the unpleasant memories of her cohorts enough to answer. "Zoey." She answered.
"And how are ya' feelin' Zoey?" He asked "Fit enough to kick some zombie ass?" He smiled and cocked a shell from his rifle which chimed off the ground like a tiny bell. Under his free arm he had tucked the flimsy length of a map against his body and gave a brief glance at the woman.
She immediately recognized his expression which happened to be universal in the new perilous world they resided in. It meant moving on to endure another episode against the undead. She then narrowed her eyes and looked over her body. She felt fine enough now as the grogginess of sleep resided. Narrowing her eyes Zoey saw to her disappointment her favorite jeans had begun to fray at the seam dividing the pant legs into loose flaps against her shins. And beneath the thin denim fabric the pain in her ankle had numbed down to mild swathe ache.
"I gave you some anesthetics while you were unconscious." Rochelle rattled a box of pills in her hand when she spoke while watching Zoey subconsciously rub at her ankle.
"Thanks, I needed that." Zoey said appreciatively then laughing softly as her fingers still massaged the faint pain in her leg. It did feel much better and she began to feel a little more like herself again. "Thanks all of you, I'd be pretty dead right now if it weren't for you guys." She was talking to all of them at that moment pulling her feet out from across the bed to the floor.
"Yeah, Nick here was hollerin' for me to leave you behind" Ellis chuckled "But I knew you wasn't a zombie." He said teasingly to Nick before looking over at Zoey.
Ellis had immediately found her attractive now that she was conscious, and even stifled a blush. When she had been blacked out on the frail looking bed, she had looked drained and exhausted. Her face an unhealthy sallow shade worn out and unmoving she looked on her way to death's door. They half expected her to get up and try to attack them as an infected. Heck; they all had looked as if death had knocked on their door once or twice and asked for rent to live another minute. Apparently, they'd payed their chior dues, taxes, and life rent but all they were left with were husks of worn out bodies that saw many restless nights. They were alive and so was she and that was all that mattered right now.
But now the healthy color had returned to her skin, flushing the once pallid flesh of its pale features. He could see the slender slope of her neck and shoulders, the thin rogue wisps of hair that stroked gently toward her back, and the slim curves that emphasized her womanhood.
Ellis realized he had been staring, and immediately blinked back the interfering images that were making his cheeks burn up and removed the goofy grin that betrayed his thoughts.
Luckily for Ellis, their attention turned to where Nick had thrust his leg at the door and booted it open, the sun whirled into the room in a bright lurid flush making them squint against its glow. Nick turned back to them to speak, "If you aren't ready then I don't wanna hear it." Nick stepped out from the doorway and vanished from the room finishing his speech outside, "We're moving on".
Coach snorted a small laugh and shook his head, "I'm starting to get really sick of his ass". He perched the length of his weapon over his shoulder and trailed behind Nick through the narrow door frame. Ellis was at his side, "Did I ever tell you about this time, Keith And I-" his sentence was lost out into the cold air as he left the room with Coach who had turned his head to look at him with a warning glare.
"Take this hun." Rochelle said, pulling Zoey's attention to the large Desert Eagle that had placed in her hand. Zoey lifted it to her face appraising the power of the gun by shifting its weight from side to side. It was silver with its polished surface was peppered in blood and the handle was slightly worn from recent use. As she stared down at it, it eyed her back suspiciously, it's silver iris made up from the glimmering glare of the doorway.
Eventually Zoey and Rochelle left the safe room, emerging from the doorway, they were unsurprised to see Nick, Ellis, and Coach waiting impatiently in the narrow lane. "Oh look, the beauty queens decided to join us." Nick raised a mocking brow at them and began to stride down the desolate alley way.
"Where are we headed?" Zoey finally had the nerve to ask while taking a brief glance around her area and checking it again. The alley was narrow enough so that they were forced to walk single file. Coach led the way, followed by Ellis, then Nick, then Rochelle. Zoey stayed the last in line.
"To Jimmy Jr!" Ellis responded from ahead followed by a short laugh from Coach "Jimmy Gibbs." He was still smiling and shaking his head. Zoey had realized it had to of been some inside joke, and it was Rochelle who turned to explain with a half smile on her face "It's a car."
"That old shit tried to kill us." Nick had replied with a mordant ring in his voice while obviously aiming at a nerve in one of the two men before him. But Ellis and Coach had pretended not to hear him and continued to stalk forward in single file. Being ignored made Nick on edge and angry, and part of him wanted to poke fun at them again but it felt so juvenile to him that he stifled the comment and kept walking in silence.
Zoey suppressed a laugh and looked at the ground since she didn't know these people too well and wasn't exactly sure what to say. Zoey eventually decided that there wasn't anything for her to say anyway. It was better to hold the gun and protect the rear as they kept walking.
It was Coach who had been the one to notice the two large palm fronds that bobbed gently in the wind at the end of the alley way, signifying the beginning of the sidewalk. They'd been artfully arranged in the dirt clearing on the sidewalk with the ends of their stalks pushed into the soil. They looked like a bush growing from the cement while hiding the entrance to the alley way. One of the fronds had tipped over pulling itself free from the dirt. Coach walked right past them while it was only when he'd sensed Ellis' hesitating behind him that he turned, following an appraising stare from Nick. "Is it clear?" Nick asked nervously his rifle clutched and trigger happy ready in both his hands. Right now Zoey saw Nick to be the type of guy who could make a habit of indiscriminately double tapping anything that jumped in front at the guy when she was his hands white from gripping so hard.
"Clear." Coach responded, leaning over he yanked the other frond free and in an instant, everything was revealed behind it. A long blue Dodge Daytona was parked on the road, covered in various advertisements along its body. The lurid oversize spoiler that hung off the tail.
Zoey was unable to hold back an impressed laugh and approached it running her hand across the glossy surface of this race car. She had immediately recognized the vehicle as the memory of sitting beside her father came to mind. Zoey's father loved NASCAR and through her affection for him she grew to like it as well. She could remember as a child waiting for her father to return from work and he'd always have the biggest smile and hug for her after passing through the front doors. Dinner would come after eating they'd race to the living room in a childish competition, and the loser was bound to get teased for it. The immense commotion captivated her, the excited shouting enthralled her even further, and her father's love for racing made her share the same feelings. Abruptly Zoey pulled herself from her thoughts, and blinked while biting her lip. "Don't tell me this is Jimmy Gibbs car?" She looked around but everyone had looked away at the question of the car. Everyone except Ellis of course, who never missed a chance to brag.
"Ain'she a beaut?" Ellis rooted with a laugh as he approached the car himself. A grin of a proud father beamed on his face while perched his back up with both hands on each respective hip. Nick had been behind him and gave Ellis a firm smack on the back. "OK speed racer." Nick said before opening the back door and turning to the other waving for them to get in.
After recovering from the shock of the owner of the car, Zoey had piled in with the rest of them, and ended against the door of the back seat, followed by Rochelle and Nick. The black leather glistened against the glare of the sun making the entire car smell like rubber and sweat. It was a smell she was used to by now although the smell of blood, iron, and sweat ingrained in her senses too. Ellis was at the driver's seat and sent a glance at Coach beside him who had laid out the map across the dashboard.
The car needed three rumbling attempts before the lazy engine managed to start but then they were in motion. They swung out onto a paved road peeling out fashionably then heading away from the city. The roads were clear enough within the final miles of the city limits a few car crashes littered the sides of the pavement but were easily avoided. After a few miles or so past the car wrecks they turned left into a gravel road. The city had vanished long ago at this point replaced the large expansive fields as they traveled the dirt– Zoey couldn't tell what was growing in them but one had a broken down tractor in it and in another pair of wild horses.
The cabin of the car was pretty hot with the thick slightly fetid humidity of a greenhouse. There was a false breeze of the car's motion, but it wasn't enough and soon they were sweating through their shirts. "Fucking eh, this piece of shit got an air conditioner?" Nick complained from the back seat leaning over between the front seat where Ellis and Coach sat.
Coach had laughed a throaty chuckle beside him seemingly unphased by the sweltering heat. "Sure does." He said extending his arm to flip a switch across the console. And with it a cold rush of air billowed from the car's vents over them and Nick glared at Coach as he commented sarcastically, "You couldn't have done that sooner?" Rochelle had even let a satisfying sigh and leaned her head back against the seat and moaned in pleasure from the cool air passing through the car. Her face was glistening with drops of sweat which fell down across her neck to soak her shirt as she fanned herself to help cool off.
Zoey had her face against the window, which was shut tight against the day's heat. The car's air conditioner was on high and she'd began to shiver as the ride progressed, her sweat drying, goose bumps rising on her forearms. In the end it didn't seem like an exceptionally long drive to her. She'd hardly noticed in fact as her mind floating elsewhere to the faintly dying memories of her old friends, and family. Lately it did seem to be happening more and more often and she found herself trying harder to suppress the gloomy thoughts.
She had had not cried once since the zombie attacks started. Even when she had arrived home from her dorm to find herself fighting off her own parents with her brother's baseball bat she didn't cry. The pure instinct to persevere pushed her to kill them and standing there she could only stare blindly at their severely battered bodies. She'd even gone as far as double tap their dead bodies to make sure they were thoroughly dead. Dripping with blood, Zoey's clothes were smothered in gore, she turned and walked to the bathroom and turned on the faucet of the shower as hot as she could make it. She sat there for hours letting the scalding water beat down on her back and burn away the evidence. Her family's blood but she didn't cry for them now.
Zoey was startled when the car abruptly came to a standstill. Having slightly nodded off against the window the sudden halt threw her forward causing her to catch herself against Coach's seat. Why did they stop? She thought subsequently turning to the front seat where Ellis had sat. An eerie silence had enveloped the car's cabin.
Coach was the first to break the silence, his voice a hush tone he turned to the back seat. "Let's go see if it's clear." He simply ordered and pushed open his door which was followed quickly by the rest opening their doors then loading their weapons as each one stepped from the frame of the car.
It was dark now, and Zoey had to squint against the encroaching shadows of the night to see where they were. "Joe's Gas depot?" questioned Rochelle, reading the hand-painted sign tacked to the front. Frankly, Zoey was surprised the thing was still standing. As if in response, a gust of wind swirled up, and an entire stack of clay shingles spilled down onto the ground below, smashing into a million red pieces. What prize real estate.
Coach had pressed the barrel of his gun against the front door and pushed it open with it. "Anyone home?" he called out but his only response was the exhalation of darkness inside and the echo of his voice. The faint sound of rustling rodents scuttled about scattering into the night could be heard by everyone.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Nick shouted lifting his feet to avoid the rats that weaved around him. Ellis laughed and stepped inside after Coach flashing the light mounted on top of his gun through the building. It was immediately apparent to Zoey that the building was frequently used as a safe room. Sleeping bags were sprawled across the floor, empty cans stuffed in the corners, plastic forks, and spoons stained with food hanging haphazardly from cups.
Each one of them searched the few rooms that the building had to offer, which mostly consisted of the entrance, a janitors closet, and a small bedroom. Planks of wood were nailed in an attempt to keep the infected out although that did nothing to keep out the cold. The building felt like it was taking deep breathes, as it shifted with the wind, croaking with each gust. Only a few minutes had passed before Coach reemerged from the bedroom. "Clear." He said reassuringly, sending everyone an appraising glance "Everyone, ya' better get comfortable, 'cause we're campin' in here tonight."
No one had the energy to argue, or protest, fatigue effectively shunned them into silence while each one of them picked out their sleeping bag.. One by one, they dozed off, it seemed as if the moment they placed their heads on the blankets that they were unconscious.
Zoey had found herself a particular cozy spot by the corner of the room, hidden from the occasional draft from the hollow windows. Yet she had no desire to sleep, as it had no desire for her, even if her reason was that Zoey had also no desire for another session of nightmares, instead she sat against the wall. She could feel the wall paper peeling, the torn lips prodded at her skin through the fabric of her jacket. "Ow." She mumbled when one of them had cut at her neck.
"Cheap ass son'o'bitch wall." Ellis cussed out of the darkness from her right. She initially jumped at the sound of his voice surprised that she wasn't the only one still awake. Zoey recovered by nervously laughing but before she could find the chance to say anything else he had interrupted.
Quietly, they spoke to each other, separated by the thin veil of shadows between them. They talked briefly about their pasts, Ellis talked about the town where he'd been raised, how small it was, how ugly and provincial, yet somehow picturesque in its ugliness, somehow worldly in its provincialism. When the siren had rung during the zombie riots people went to their front doors stepped out onto their porches and shaded their eyes to see. Children jumped on bicycles to race after the unending line of ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars. There was gawking involved of course but also empathy for the unseen victims.
Zoey had told him about the summer she had spent working as a lifeguard at a pool in an apartment complex. A tiny oval pool with a seven-foot deep end with no diving allowed. She'd sat in a lawn chair sunning herself from ten until six for five days a week. Laying there and warning children not to run. Telling children not to splash or dunk one another. Even telling the adults that they weren't supposed to bring alcohol into the pool area. Both groups largely ignored her. It was a small complex teetering on the edge of solvency full of her town's downwardly mobile – drinkers and divorcees—a rather depressing place. There weren't that many children and on some days no one came to the pool at all. Zoey would sit in her chair reading some old sci-fi comic book. If it was especially quiet she'd often slip into the shallow end and float there on her back. Allowing herself some relaxation to let her mind go empty as she thought about her future.
They lost track of time as they spoke although the conversation had somehow cast a gloomy tone in Ellis' voice from the grief of the circumstances they resided in. Letting out a heavy sigh that felt as if his heart had jumped from his own throat he laid down into this sleeping bag and closed his eyes.
At that excruciating moment every fiber of Zoey's being wanted to comfort him. Zoey wanted to tell him everything would be OK or that Ellis would find peace again. But she wasn't exactly sure if she could make the words sound believable. It was sort of an empty reassurance that only a child would find comforting. In her hesitation silence had settled quietly between them so that the quiet effectively signified the end of the conversation.
She made an inane frown but felt rather defeated. Quietly withdrawing between the warm blankets that made up the sleeping bag she also closed her eyes. Knowing she was in for a long night.
After only a few hours the temperature started to drop, chilling the sweat on her skin – chilling her spirits, too. So cold. She had partially lost feeling in her fingers a while ago, and wasn't even sure if she still had toes. Occasionally she'd reach down and pinch at them with her nerveless fingers which did nothing to remedy the feeling. Like trying to melt ice with ice. Why was she so cold? Everyone else seemed to have fallen asleep relatively easily so why was she the only one plagued by the chill? These miserable thoughts seemed to only make her even more aware of the cold. And finally relinquishing any hopes of sleep Zoey opened her eyes and squinted against the icy shadows of the room. She stared blindly into the dark room for a while. Now and then, Zoey thought she could see things in the darkness – floating shapes, balloonlike and even faintly luminescent. They seemed to approach, then hover right in front of her face before slowly withdrawing again. Some had a bluish green tint; others were a faint yellow, almost white. These were tricks her eyes were playing on her, she knew, physiological reactions to the darkness, but she couldn't help herself: whenever they appeared to come specially close, she'd reach out to try to touch them. As soon as she'd lift her hand, though, the shapes would vanish, only to reappear at some new spot, farther away, and resume their slow, gently bobbing approach.
Somewhere in the deceptive shadows she had fallen asleep, her mind appearing to contort reality when she woke up surrounded in darkness. Behind her, ahead of her--blow, above--nothing. Just thick, frigid darkness that blotted out everything. Zoey's whole body coursed with tremors, an icy chill had enveloped her which both disoriented and terrified her.
I must have been killed.
Slowly she began to sink into the invisible pool of water below, that same icy chill which surrounded and shook her, until she was neck deep in the frosty world around her. The freezing water began to flood into her mouth, her nose, filling her lungs as she sank lower into the liquid, the floor nearly reaching her eyes.
Eyes. Zoey thought, and abruptly she jerked awake, her pulse in her throat. Still half drunk with sleep she sat up struggling to orient herself. To understand what had yanked her so violently from her sleep. She thought it must've been a noise, but if so, it seemed that she was the only who had heard. The others were still lying motionless, eyes shut, their breath coming deep and steady.
She sat listening, waiting for the noise to come again, her heart slowly calming.
Silence.
Then it must've been a dream she thought, though Zoey couldn't remember any details of it; there was only that instant sense of panic as she sat up, her blood feeling too thick for her veins, moving too fast. She slowly laid back down in the blanket, and shut her eyes. But she was awake now, still listening, still frightened even though she couldn't have said of what. And now cold too, her body had begun to resume its quivering cadence within the sleeping bag. Gradually as she rested there, wishing for sleep, but sleep ignoring her, the cold had began to triumph over her fear, a big dog barking a smaller dog into silence.
Slowly she sat up once again with her eyes squinting toward the rear of the room straining to discern the closest person to her in the darkness. The chill had grown unbearable and Zoey had decided that if she slipped into one of other sleeping bags that she'd finally be able to fall back asleep.
Gradually, she could begin to make out the shape of Ellis' sleeping form through the dark distorted silhouette that surrounded them. Her hands and shoulders still trembling in the frozen bitter air she got to her knees and crawled forward. Her fingertips tentatively explored the surface between them until they collided and gently clasped his shoulder. He was very warm, she immediately noticed. She shifted a little closer now and even straining a glimpse at his face to ensure he was asleep. And then, from a will separate from that of her poor confused mind she swiftly lifted the thick flap and gently glided her legs in neatly beside him while being careful to not stir him from his sleep or make any noise. Zoey immediately grinned at the feel of the pleasant toasty air that had been trapped at the foot of his sleeping bag as it began to ease away the numbing chill in her toes. In her effort to find a comfortable position beside Ellis she had hit him with her shoulder causing her to cringe in fear of waking him.
She could feel him recoil and pull back at the feel of her body against his, his eyes struggling to make out the features of her face through the shade when he turned his head to look at her. Zoey could feel her face burning up with embarrassment like a child who had just been caught stealing therefore she stopped moving. A foolish and sheepish smile crept across her mouth. Unsure if he could see it though Zoey opened her mouth to explain when he interrupted her with a goofy grin of his own. Crap.
It didn't take long for Ellis' sleepy mind to come to his own conclusion on what he thought she was doing and certainly didn't take him long to react either. With a smile he slowly extended his arm around her waist and drew her in. Hearing not only her swift intake of breath but also feeling the slight tremor which coursed down her body when the chilly surface of her skin pressed tightly against his. Right now Ellis felt lucky, and smiled at the sensation of his body as it ebbed away the cold chill from her bones.
Zoey initially widened her eyes as he pulled her in and she could remember trying faintly to protest against his gentle arms. But it did her no good when the searing warmth that her body craved and he generated felt like it had sapped the strength from her limbs. Ultimately Zoey's body disregarded the doubts in her mind and allowed herself to sink loosely into his arms. She slowly laid her face across the dip of Ellis' chest, and listened to the calming strum of his heart against her ear, each swell and decline of each breath unwound her further. Her hand was resting on his stomach, and without really thinking, she slid it down his body with a stretch across his groin and let out a satisfied sigh.
Ellis stiffened against her touch and felt his groin coil, his breath deepen, with a rasp hiding in it, he was trying his best to keep himself from rubbing his erection against her. He couldn't remember ever cuddling such a pretty thing like her. His mind wandered to the nights he spent before the zombie outbursts, of sleeping on dirty mattresses and couches. He hadn't thought much of girls then, typically he'd horse around with his friend Keith everyday stirring up trouble wherever they could find it. Determined for a distraction though he dove into his memories again trying to recover some distant memory of his first kiss, his first time (which actually didn't help), or of anything. He circled back to the girl on the rope swing; Marci Walsh, thirteen years old. She'd had braces and a long blond ponytail, and he had taken her to the Tunnel of love in Whispering Oaks. He could remember sitting in that awfully tiny swan boat, awkwardly trying to place some distance between him and the metal mouthed cootie queen beside him. Eventually he found himself more entertained by spitting on the overhangs as they passed and watching it fall over onto the smoochin' sons of bitches behind them. He immediately realized he had holding her too close, but then again, she was holding him back too tight, and he stared with opened eyes at the shadowy form of her cold body in his arms, willing himself to quell the emotions that were quickly rising in his chest. He closed his eyes as he settled his cheek against her hair, drinking in the scent. She pressed herself to him, "You're cold darlin'." He whispered quietly above her.
Zoey knew in the morning, she'd have to explain the real reason she had snuck in beside him. Would have to tell him that she hadn't been thinking or that she was half asleep and frozen. But for now she would take in his warmth and allow herself to relax into his arms if only for the night. -----
Well this is the first chapter! It's messy, but I'll be going through it and fixing it up as time goes by. Next chapter should be up by the end of the month. I'll be sure to add a preview soon though!