Mechanical Failure, Chap. 2b (zombie apocalypse novel in progress)

~Chapter 2, continued~

Everything happened in a matter of seconds, but it felt like an hour. I started to fall toward the zombie that had my leg, so I jerked away. I pulled my leg free, but I overcorrected and began to lean the other way, teetering toward my front yard. That wasn’t going to be any better. I ended up taking two long, wobbling steps closer to the neighbor’s house, and then I dove toward their yard when I knew that I had no other choice.  My momentum was carrying me by that time, and all I could do was try to steer. My left ankle hit the top of the wall as the rest of my body went over, back first. I’m still not sure exactly how I got twisted around that way, but I hit hard and I lay where I landed, unable to breathe. My ankle screamed in agony, and I was sure that it was broken. My bigger concern was my back, which felt pretty messed up, too. I could picture myself lying there, paralyzed, while the zombies on the other side of the wall slowly made their way over.

I finally sucked in a huge gulp of air and moved my head, looking around to make sure the yard was empty. After a couple of minutes, I managed to push myself into a sitting position. While my back hurt terribly, it didn’t appear to be broken. My ankle was another story. It was scraped up pretty badly, and it hurt like hell when I touched it.

Glancing up at the wall, I could see hands reaching over, and it sent a wave of anger through me. These stupid, dead things had chased me from my home. I sat there thinking about it, telling myself that I could take it back; that I would not be cast out into the streets by a bunch of dead people who couldn’t even talk any more. But I knew it wasn’t true. I let out a long, slow breath and faced reality. Even if I could clear out my house, they had defiled it. I had gotten a glimpse of at least one zombie in the pool, pushing at the sides as it tried to get back out. They’d been stomping through my garden, too, and I couldn’t eat the contaminated food. I didn’t even want to think about what they’d done to the inside of the house. There was probably soughed off, rotted flesh and gore all over the place. No, this was one battle that I was going to walk away from and live to fight another day . . . assuming I could walk.

I used the wall to push myself into a standing position on my good leg. ‘Good’ was just a relative term in this case, since both legs were pretty banged up. I’d scraped my knee raw somewhere on the way over the wall, though I don’t remember doing it. It throbbed with pain along with the rest of my body. Still, it supported my weight, so I was happy. I carefully tried to put weight on my not-so-good leg, and I was met with numbing pain. I wasn’t sure what to do next. In the attic I would have had my bed, coffee, water and a good book as well as a box of crackers or two. There was no chance of getting back up there, so I’d have to find a new sanctuary.

Something caught my attention off to the right and I turned my head, paling when I caught sight of the stile I’d built to go over the wall. It was moving. Even my pain-filled mind was sharp enough at the moment to realize that something was climbing over from the other side. I hobbled over just as one of the creatures managed to get onto the first step. When I had built the stile, I had taken a tall wooden ladder and cut it in half, connecting the two sections with a small piece of plywood and a few bolts with wing nuts, thinking that in an emergency, I could unscrew them and quickly dissemble the whole thing. I could see the problem with my planning now. There was no way I could reach over and undo the wing nuts on that side of the wall without getting my hand bit off. I quickly undid the wing nuts on my side, having to dodge the zombie’s grasping hands the whole time. Once they were loose, I tossed the ladder away and pushed up on the platform, trying to knock it over, zombie and all. No luck. The zombie kept trying to grab me, leaning forward as he did it, and he was heavy. I was running out of options and the big guy had managed to get up another step. He’d be in the yard with me before long and I’m sure that his friends would follow.

~*^*~

Mechanical Failure, Chap. 2a (zombie apocalypse novel in progress)

~Chapter Two ~

I was pulled from my sleep when the sky began to lighten outside. I’d been an early riser for most of my adult life, but I always used to wake to an alarm clock. These days my body was more in tune with nature and I always woke automatically when it started to grow light. It was something about Melatonin in the brain, if I remembered correctly. It worked out pretty well, because I made maximum use of sunlight this way, which was especially important now that it was November and the days were short. I had to use the lights after it got dark, but I always kept the blinds closed so I wouldn’t attract the attention of the dead outside. I also was sleeping more than I ever used to do in the old days. I figured that would change when summer came and the days grew long again . . . if I lived that long. Things weren’t looking real great at the moment.

I stayed in bed a while longer, not ready to face the day. I was wide awake, but I was trapped in the attic while a bunch of zombies trashed my house. It kind of reminded me of my college days after my roommates would have a party. I always dreaded leaving my room to check the house the next day. It was never pretty.

 I sat up with a sigh and tried to figure out a plan. When I couldn’t come up with anything, I dragged out the camp stove and heated some water in a small metal pot. This was a morning ritual for me. I always made my first cup of coffee in the attic, to make sure I was alert before venturing down to the first floor of the house. I had learned early that I had to watch my back at all times and that meant not climbing down the stairs half-awake because I could find myself stumbling into something very nasty. Today, there was no doubt as to what I’d find down there.

I had my coffee and used my port-a-potty and then decided that I couldn’t stall any longer. I was getting antsy and I needed to get out of the house. The attic had two small windows, both covered with horizontal strips of wood that would have to be removed if I wanted to escape. Climbing out the window on the west side of the house was not an option because there was a two story drop and a yard full of zombies. I went to the other window and it looked a little more hopeful. The window was dead center between the front and back of the house, and so was the cinder block wall that ran from our place to the house next door. I tried to peek into the Thompson’s yard to see if it was zombie-free and I really couldn’t tell. The parts of it that I could see looked fine so I decided to risk it.

I looked around the attic, trying to figure out what I should take with me. Anything I carried could affect my balance while I walked across the narrow wall, so it would have to be something that I just couldn’t live without. I didn’t see anything like that except for the knife . . . and the coffee. I tucked my sweatshirt into my jeans then stuffed the zip-lock bag full of coffee into my shirt. The knife and sheath went into the waistband of my jeans again.

If I hung out of the window and tried to land on the wall, odds were pretty good that I’d fall. I just wasn’t that graceful. I needed to be able to lower myself to the top of the wall then walk across the narrow blocks, while avoiding being pulled into the yard by zombies. Tightrope walking across the wall was going to be a problem, and since it was only six feet tall, most of the dead would probably be able to reach me. Once my feet hit the wall, I would have to move fast. Not liking heights, I wouldn’t have wanted to do this even without zombies in the equation.

I quietly broke away the slats of wood then got a better look toward the front of the house and the street. It appeared to be clear so if I had to fall, I’d try to lean that way and hope for the best. I really didn’t see any other options.

I braided a clothesline into a thicker rope and even gave myself a couple of loops for hand and foot holds. If I changed my mind about this plan, I thought I’d even be able to climb back up. Fastening one end to a beam in the attic, I pulled as hard as I could. It held. Returning to the window again, I tossed the rope out, cursing when I saw that the movement attracted the attention of one of the yard-zombies. I’d have to move fast or forget the whole thing. I got out the window and made my way down the rope as quickly as possible. When I felt the block beneath my bare foot, I turned to face the neighbor’s yard. I was shocked to see that two of the rotting creatures were already there, just a few feet away from me. That wasn’t even the bad news. There was one coming from the front yard now as well, ruining my option of falling that way if I had to. Not that I was looking forward to that anyway, since the yard was full of small, sharp rocks and I was barefoot. I either had to go back up the rope or make a run for the neighbor’s yard. I’m normally not super-impulsive, but I didn’t have a lot of time to think it over. I let go of the rope and prayed as I began to move, one foot after the other, trying not to see the dead hands that were now grabbing for my feet.

After the first step, I was sure that I’d made a huge mistake, but there was no chance of me turning around on the narrow wall. I was committed to the course I’d chosen. The dead things were lined up on both sides of the wall and most of them were easily tall enough to grab my leg. The only good thing was that they were moving toward where I was at the moment, not where I planned to be in the next few seconds. Because of this, I was able to stay one step ahead of them . . . literally. It worked until I made it to the ‘T’ in the wall that divided the two yards. One of them must have been faster than the others because I felt it’s cold, dead hand wrap tightly around my right ankle.

~to be continued~

Mechanical Failure, Chap. 1e (zombie apocalypse novel in progress)

~continued~

I shoved the vent as hard as possible and it finally moved, leaving just darkness above me. That was exactly what I wanted to see. The ceiling was high, but the dresser was four feet tall, making me tall enough.

I reached up and got my arms inside the square hole just as the zombies managed to move the dresser. For a moment it teetered and I was sure I was going to go with it. I used my arms and shoulders to pull most of my upper body through the hole as the dresser crashed to the floor with a loud bang. The undead flooded into the room, falling and crawling over the dresser. I felt cold dead fingers brush my foot as I jerked my legs up and into the hole. Looking down, I wondered if they’d be able to reach the ceiling if they stood on the toppled dresser. Since it was laying on its side and it was little more than a foot wide, I thought that I was safe, at least for the moment.

I crawled away from the opening, staying toward the center of the room. My husband and I had started to install a floor but had never finished it, which meant that the outer edges of the attic were dangerous. I always had to be careful not to fall through the drywall and it was even more critical now. I carefully made my way over to check the entrance that was above the hall, which was how I normally got in and out of the attic. I couldn’t remember if I’d left the stairs down or up before getting drunk the previous night. I found them folded up, which was a huge relief since I was sure that the dead could probably manage to climb up stairs. I crawled across the floor in the dark until I found my lantern and I lit it. There was a stack of plywood in the corner, intended for use on the floor. I took one of the pieces and laid it over the gaping hole that led back down to my bedroom. Falling through the hole would probably be a really bad move. Once that was done, I stacked as much heavy junk on it as I could find, just in case. When I was finished, I went over to the mattress and fell onto it. The smell of the dead was bad, even with the plywood covering the hole, but I couldn’t risk making an escape that night. I was still dizzy and barefoot and I had bad night vision. I decided I might as well get some sleep and then I could do some planning once it got light out. It was only a matter of moments before I was fast asleep.

 ~*^*~

Mechanical Failure, Chap. 1d (zombie apocalypse novel in progress)

~continued~

I pulled the knife down and stuck the scabbard into the waistband of my jeans as I continued my search for secret exits. My eyes lit on the small vent in the middle of the room but then they moved on to the bigger one that was in the ceiling right by the hall door. When we had remodeled the bedroom, the vent had been installed to ensure we’d get decent airflow in the room. The nice thing about it was the size, probably two feet by two feet.

I quickly began moving furniture to block the door and give me something to stand on so that I could reach the vent. The dresser was very heavy and it was not an easy task to move it, but the slapping of numerous dead hands on the windows and doors were enough incentive to get the job done quickly. I knocked some ceramic figurines off of it in the process but I really didn’t care at the moment. The minute the dresser was in position, I hoisted myself up and undid the two little metal tabs that held the cover in place. I sent the filter flying and looked up into some ductwork. I wouldn’t fit through it, so it had to go. Doing my best, I banged at it and pushed on it to no avail. My efforts only seemed to get the zombies even more agitated, like they needed any help with that. When I heard glass break, I knew that my time was about up. I glanced back to see that it was one of the little side windows. One of the intruders was trying his best to fit his large body through the small opening. The glass in the patio doors would soon follow and then the floodgates would open, spewing a wave of the dead into the room. I pulled out the knife and started prying at the ductwork with it. I was able to loosen the vent with a little effort, but about this time, I felt the dresser move as the creatures in the hall managed to crack the door frame enough to get the door open a few inches. They could see me now and they grew more urgent in their efforts to get in, dozens of fingers reaching for me through the crack in the door as their moans increased in volume.

 ~*~

Mechanical Failure, Chap. 1c (zombie apocalypse novel in progress)

I stumbled through the dark toward the hall door, slamming my toe into my cedar chest on the way. The last time I did that, the pain had been almost debilitating for a few minutes. This time I barely noticed it. I thought that it must have something to do with the adrenaline that was coursing through my body.

Grabbing the doorknob, I hesitated for a fraction of a second before yanking my hand back as if I’d been burned. I still don’t know why I didn’t turn the handle. Maybe God was watching out for me. Maybe my subconscious realized that if the dead hadn’t breached the wall, the only way they could have gotten into my back yard was through the house. Placing my ear against the crack of the door, I could hear them in the hall. I would have walked right into the arms of the dead, and that moment of hesitation had saved me. My hands were shaking as I reached out to lock the door as quietly as possible, not that it was going to help much. They knew I was in the room and they would be through in no time. I decided that there was no reason to stay in the dark any longer. I flipped on the light and began to look around. I don’t know what I had hoped to see; some other forgotten door leading to another room that wasn’t already infested with zombies, maybe? No such luck. The only other door led to the bathroom and if I locked myself in there, I’d die. There was one window and it was solid glass block. Even if I was able to reinforce the door, the dead would wait me out once I was trapped inside the room.

I glanced at the fireplace but I knew that it wasn’t an option. It was a gas insert and even if I managed to knock it out, it would put me right outside with the dead. My eyes scanned the room, frantic for a solution. I looked at my Lord of the Rings sword and knife above the fireplace and debated their usefulness. The sword was long, heavy and unwieldy, though I thought that the knife might be a decent weapon. It was a replica of Strider’s knife and it had a wicked looking curved blade with a long sharp tip. It would be ideal for impaling the dead through their eyes, if they didn’t overwhelm me first. I was sure the zombies would also be impressed by the Elvish words engraved in the side. I stared at it for a moment, wondering what the words meant, then I snapped out of my musings, realizing I needed to do something fast. I’m pretty sure my blood-alcohol level was still higher than I would have liked it to be, or maybe I was just in shock, but I was going to die if I didn’t get my head together fast.

 ~*~

Mechanical Failure, Chap. 1b (zombie apocalypse novel in progress)

~continued~

I don’t think that it was a coincidence that tonight was the night that my defenses were breached. There had to be more to it than that. Maybe it was the fact that while I was drinking those shots of tequila, I had cranked up the music on my computer. The speakers were blasting out Led Zeppelin when I finally fell asleep. Maybe the zombies didn’t like my taste in music. Maybe they knew that music equaled humans which of course equaled food. I’m guessing it was the music, though.

I woke abruptly around midnight, thinking I’d heard dead hands slapping on the window in the lull between songs. I lay in bed, not moving, as I waited for the noise to repeat itself. When it didn’t, I assumed I’d just been dreaming.

The room was spinning from the tequila, and I sat up to stop it but it didn’t help. It took me a minute to get to my feet, but I finally managed to stagger across the room, which wasn’t easy in the dark, especially since I was dizzy.  I turned off the music, knowing that having it on so loud was just begging for trouble. I promised myself to be more careful in the future, but at least I’d had the sense to turn the lights off before I’d passed out.

Stumbling to the bathroom, I grabbed my bottle of treated water and drank it greedily, washing away some of the cotton in my mouth. After a moment, I took another drink, but I let it go down a little slower this time. I’d have to refill my water bottle the next day, since it was almost empty, but that was part of my daily routine. I had just screwed the lid back on and set the bottle down when I heard the sound at the window again. This time I couldn’t pass it off as a dream. I felt the blood drain from my face as terror began to grip me. If something had managed to get into the yard, I was in trouble. The whole back of my house was practically all glass. I had two sets of French doors in the family room and patio doors in the bedroom that all led to the back yard. There were also two large windows in the family room and two little ones in my bedroom, though they were too small for a person to easily fit through.

I needed to know what I was up against. I wondered how many of them there were and how they’d gotten in. There was no easy way they could have breached the block wall since they don’t climb and I had a hard time believing they’d made it through the front door, since it had bars on the outside and I’d reinforced the inside of it as well. It didn’t make sense unless they’d climbed over each other to get over the wall or they’d pushed through the front door by sheer force of numbers.

I slowly made my way to the patio doors in the bedroom. They were the sort that had blinds built inside the two layers of glass. Reaching up, I found the small plastic lever at the top and pushed it to the right so that I could look outside. I didn’t see anything out there. I began to wonder if it had just been the pomegranate tree slapping against the side of the house. That happened sometimes when it was windy. It made more sense than a bunch of zombies breaking through my block wall. Confident that this was the case, I made my way through the dark to one of the two narrow windows on either side of my bed. These windows started about three feet off the ground and were about two feet tall by one foot wide, with wooden blinds. I felt around until I found the two strings that turned the angle of the blinds. I pulled the wrong one, accomplishing nothing. With a sigh, I felt for the other one and pulled it, turning the position of the blinds so that they were completely horizontal. There, just a foot away, was half a face looking back at me, with milky white eyes and teeth bared by missing lips. I covered my mouth, stifling a scream as I backed away, hoping that the streetlight outside only allowed me to see him and not the other way around. Apparently, that was not the case, because he began beating on the window, moaning loudly. It was less than a minute later that I heard more of them at the back door. I was in trouble.

 ~to be continued~

Mechanical Failure, Chap. 1a (zombie apocalypse novel in progress)

Note: I am continuing on from the end of the short story, hoping to eventually turn this into a novel. The short story (parts I to IX) will be the prologue. Chapter 1 will pick up where the prologue ended.

Chapter 1

I tried the engine again, with no better luck than I’d had the first four or five times. I should have been terrified, knowing that this was probably the end, but instead I felt a strange calmness settle over me. I guess it was because I’d already lost my family and friends, everybody really. There didn’t seem to be a whole lot of reason to stick around, yet I’d been doing it so far. I was pretty apathetic over the whole live or die thing, though if I had to go, I could think of better ways than having the flesh ripped from my bones by the teeth of the dead.

I glanced in the rear view mirror and noticed again that there were no zombies behind me. I guess the bed of the truck was a deterrent since they wanted to be as close to me as possible. The second thing I noticed was that I was parked on an uphill slope. With a zombie or two pushing on the front of the truck . . . I just wondered. I quickly shifted into neutral and took my foot off the brake. Sure enough, with all the pressure the zombies were exerting on the front of the truck, it started to roll backwards, quickly picking up speed. When I felt like I was going fast enough, I popped the clutch and to my surprise, the truck started. I hit the gas, going backward as fast as I dared before taking a moment to turn the truck around and head home. I rolled down the window and yelled, “Thanks, guys,” though I don’t know why. There was nobody alive nearby to appreciate my warped sense of humor, but maybe it just made me feel more normal to talk to people, even if they were dead.

It wasn’t until I was safely inside the house that I started to shake. Reality hit me hard and I helped myself to a shot of tequila, knowing that wine wouldn’t be enough. I’d had a few close calls before but this one was the worst. I guess that was why I didn’t stop at one shot but just kept going and ended up having at least six or seven. I should have known better but I’d had a bad day and I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. Normally I slept in the attic, because I could pull the ladder up behind me and get a good night’s sleep. No matter how well the house was reinforced, I was always on edge, waiting for a window to break or a rotting hand to settle on my shoulder. Tonight, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly and after finishing the last shot of tequila, I passed out in my bed, instead.
Huge mistake.

~to be continued~

Mechanical Failure (Zombie Short Story) - part IX

~continued~

A loud slap against the window makes me jump and I wake with a start. I don’t know how I managed to fall asleep except that I was really tired after a brutally long day. I’m glad for the thin layer of glass that separates me from the blood-crusted face on the other side. Fully awake now, I look around and am dismayed to realize that my truck is almost completely surrounded. Shaken, I turn the key in the ignition only to hear click click click. I feel the blood drain from my face as I try again with the same results.

The dead outside are getting more violent now, clawing at the windows as more and more of them press against the truck. There is no way out of the vehicle. They’re surrounding me on three sides and while I don’t see any behind me, I know that I’d never be able to get out the back window without being grabbed. My truck isn’t a big one and they’d be able to reach me easily.

I hold my breath for a moment as I reach out to turn the key again. If it won’t start, I know I’ll die here and it will probably happen soon. Again, I get no response from my truck.

Some of the dead have climbed up onto the hood and are hitting the windshield with their fists. A small crack forms and the moans are growing louder. I know that others will come and eventually they’ll get in.

I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. The thought hits me that just a couple months ago my biggest worry was the starter on my truck.

The End . . . or is it?

Note: I originally wrote this as a short story, but since that time I’ve been adding on to it with the plan of eventually turning it into a novel. I’ll keep on posting it here, but since I have other writing projects going on, there will probably only be one post per week. Thank you to everybody that’s been reading!

Please check out the website for my book, Dead, but Not for Long. Zombie apocalypse, with a touch of humor:

http://www.deadbutnotforlong.com/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Dead-but-Not-for-Long/448918678507197?fref=ts

Mechanical Failure (Zombie Short Story) - part VIII

~continued~

I search the office and find nothing but I’m not surprised. It would be too easy to find the keys in the first place I look. I have to go out into the hall and I have no idea what to expect but at least the door has a window in it. I look through it and see nothing on the other side. Crowbar ready in my right hand, I take a deep breath and try to keep from shaking as I unlock the door with my left hand and ease it open. I look both ways and it appears to be clear but you just never know. I’ve had some surprises and I don’t mean the good kind. I mean nasty, smelly, scary surprises. I check to make sure the door is still unlocked then I quietly close it before making my way silently up and down the hallway to see what I’m up against. The whole building appears to be clear but since it’s not very big, I decide to make sure. Once I see that the building is empty, I decide that I may as well do some scavenging while I’m here, rather than risking a second trip later. I go through, office by office, and each time I find something worthwhile, I add it to a growing stack by the back door. Whenever I add something to the pile, I glance out to make sure the parking lot is still empty. So far, so good.

It takes me an hour but I finally find the key to the water truck in one of the last rooms down the hall. It’s in a little locked cabinet which I have to open with the help of my best friend, the crowbar. I’m relieved to see that the key I want is clearly marked since I had visions of trying out a hundred of them to see which one would fit.

My pile of salvaged goods by the door has grown over the last hour and I check again to make certain it’s still clear outside. When I’m sure, I climb through the window to move the truck. I won’t start the engine yet since that would be pushing my luck right now, but I do roll the window up. After putting the truck into neutral and turning the steering wheel, I go out the driver’s door and quietly close it again, moving into position behind the vehicle. I push it forward, constantly checking over my shoulder. I don’t have to move it far before the doorway is free and then I get out and prop the door open with the rock again. I load up as quickly and quietly as I can and then I take my pickup around to park it next to the water truck. The windows don’t line up so I am going with my backup plan. I turn the truck around so that the two driver’s doors are facing each other with barely any room in between to open them, though I manage to do it.

I jump into the driver’s seat of the water truck and put the key into the ignition. It takes me three tries to get it started and now I’ve attracted some unwanted attention. I can’t believe how loud it is. I let it run for a minute but then I have to shut it off as the dead are almost to the trucks. I jump out, leaving the keys where they are. They’ll be right where I need them when I’m ready to collect some water and I kind of doubt that anybody is going to take the truck joyriding in the meantime. After closing the door of the water truck, I get into my pickup and close my door just before a bloody hand slaps against the window. I know I’ve pushed my luck again by letting them get too close and I promise it’ll be the last time. I always tell myself that. More hands begin to slap at the window. I hate it when they do that. The blood is dry so that isn’t the problem but they always seem to leave some green, yucky stuff behind when they pull their hands away. I guess it’s just the rotting flesh, but I’m really not sure.

I have to run over a couple of the semi-dead on my way back home. Too bad the car washes aren’t open any more. I hate to bring the truck into the garage with gore all over it but there isn’t much I can do about that.

I get almost halfway home when I start thinking about the pond in Boulder City again. My husband and I used to go there for walks and to enjoy the sunsets or I’d go for lunch and just sit on a bench and watch the ducks. The more I think about it, the more I want to go. It’s a stupid risk just to see the pond and I’m so tired right now, but then again, there is so little in life to enjoy anymore, I decide it’s worth it. Instead of turning toward my house, I turn to go toward Boulder City.

I pull into the park and I’m thrilled to find it deserted. Even if I only have a couple of minutes to sit here, I will cherish the time as I never have before. I smile, watching the ducks float across the pond as though the world has not ended. I know the dead will eat animals but I guess the ducks have learned to stay away. Most of the faster animals have, because I see them running loose all over town. I lean back in my seat and relax a bit, though I keep checking the rear view mirror.

 ~to be continued~

Mechanical Failure (Zombie Short Story) - part VII

~continued~

I can see the water truck now. There’s a small group of the undead around it, and they’ve heard my engine. It still creeps me out to see their heads turn slowly my way when they first notice me. Now they’re walking over in that slow, lumbering way they have, but it’ll take them a while to reach me. I wait until they’re almost at my door then I quickly drive across the parking lot to the water truck. I know I only have about a minute so I move quickly, getting out and checking for keys. Nothing. I get back into my truck and drive slowly around the building as I try to figure out where the keys would be kept. Of course, there’s no way to tell from out here. I just don’t want to go inside, but I will have to do so. It’s going to be risky and I need to plan this well, but I’m getting used to that.

I see a back door that is flush with the building and doesn’t have a stoop or anything. If I can get the door open and drive right up next to it, I can leave the passenger window of the truck down and just crawl back through it when I have to leave. The truck will hold the door open. I’ve done this before. The only risk is if one of the infected gets under the truck or on top of it, then they might get in, but I’ll be armed. I am debating on whether I should just do this now while I’m here or if I should put it off for another day when I am not so tired. I think about it for a few more minutes then I decide that I’ll do it now so I don’t have to spend a lot of time worrying about it later. I circle the parking lot again and make sure they’re following me before I pull out onto the street with a little parade of the dead. Others join us along the way and I lead them all out toward the highway that continues to Las Vegas. I wish they would could keep going, maybe walk over the mountains, but I know they’ll stop when they hit the wall of cars at the pass. They always do.

When I decide we’ve gone far enough, I hit the gas and race down the highway, swerving around the cars that have been left on the road. I already moved enough of them to make a decent path. It comes in handy when I need to try to lead the dead away from town and maybe, deep down, I’m hoping that someone else will use that road someday. If that happens, I hope it’s someone good. I saw a lot of evil in people when this whole thing started and that thought always lingers in my mind.

I manage to lose my followers, though I know they’ll be back. I take the first exit off the highway and head away from town before connecting to a power line road. I am able to sneak back into Whispering Springs through a different route so my little parade won’t be able to follow. I pick up a couple of others on the way back in but I drive fast enough to lose them, too.

When I reach the municipal building again, it seems to be clear so I drive around to the back and jump out. I have to use the crowbar to open the door and I can’t help but notice the little chips of blood that flake off. I cleaned it after I left the grocery store, but sometimes I miss a spot or two.

Glancing around again, I see that I am still alone so I knock a few times then wait. After about a minute, I pull the door of the building open and I jump back. When nothing comes out, I know it’s probably safe to go in. I turn on my headlamp and aim it around the room. This wasn’t something I bought while in survival mode. My husband decided to be a miner for a Halloween party one year and it was part of his costume. He doesn’t need it anymore so I use it. It’s come in handy over the years, when camping or working in the attic, but it’s been invaluable since the world ended because it allows me to keep my hands free to wield my crowbar.

When I determine that the room is safe, I go back out and do a little maneuvering with the truck to get it into position. I’m pretty good at this part now. I prop the door open with a rock, then I pull the truck forward and get it as close to the building as I can, before backing up until I reach the door. I can hear the metal scrape as I back up farther, wedging the door tightly against the wall. The passenger window is now lined up with the open doorway and there is no room for anything to squeeze by the truck. Climbing through the window has gotten easy with practice. The first few times it was a little tricky, but I’ve gotten in better shape since then. I’ve lost over twenty pounds and I’m more physically fit than I have ever been. I’m sure I’d be dead by now, otherwise.

 ~to be continued~