Least Likely To Survive (11 page)

I shuddered internally at this line of thought, as I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigarette and my lighter.  As I lit the end, it occurred to me I hadn’t had one in hours, and had hardly noticed.  Wow, it took an apocalypse to make me consider giving up smoking.  Well, at least something had.

I don’t know how long we sat there, seeing as how I didn’t really keep track of time anymore.  I was watching as the sun stood proudly in the sky, burning down on us as if all was well.  And I mean burning; Texas is fucking hot.  It was barely spring, and already I felt as if I was sitting in the desert in July, and watching as my skin turned red.  To be fair, I suppose the whole ‘sitting in the desert’ part was true enough.

I reached behind me, and after going through a few pockets of my pack, finally found my sun block. 
“I
knew
I would end up needing this,”
I thought to myself with some satisfaction as I started slathering it on my arms and face.  Normally I didn’t mind putting the stuff on; I was extremely fair-skinned after all, but seeing as how I was already covered in dust and dried sweat and other things of nastiness I didn’t want to think about; it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

I finished my task, and started to hand the bottle to Jack.

“No thanks,” he shook his head at me as he took one last drag off his cigarette and stomped it out with his boot.  “Never use the stuff.”

“Jack, the last thing you’ll want during our next battle is a sun burn,” I logically countered at him while still trying to hand him the bottle.

He shook his head at me again and pushed my hand away, “I don’t really burn, I just sort of tan.”

He didn’t miss my sneer of jealousy and shrugged his shoulders while putting his hat back on.  “Genes.” 

He stood up, and I had to admire his frame as he stretched.  Seriously, the guy was disgustingly attractive.  It hurt my eyes a little to look at him, but continued to do just that as I caught sight of the edge of his shirt creeping up to reveal sculpted abs, and more tattoos.  Perhaps I did die back at home, and now I’m in Hell, trapped with this insanely beautiful man I could never touch.  I felt like a diabetic in a candy store.

I mentally gave my hormones a stern talking to, trying not to lament over how long it had been since I’d had anything even remotely resembling sex, as I stood up and started to pack the food back up and make order of the back of the car.  I tied up all the bags as best I could, and shoved everything to one side in an attempt to make more room for Roscoe.  And to try and deter him from eating everything.

Finishing up, I called over to the kids, “Ty, Chloe, it’s time to go.”  They looked up from where they had been lounging with the dog, and started to get up.

“So what’s the plan?”  Ty asked as he casually wandered over to us while brushing dirt from his jeans.

Jack stopped and stood there for a moment with his hands hooked into the belt loops of his jeans as he looked around. “There’s a town not far.  We’re stopping for weapons.”  He started to head back over to the driver side and opened the door.

Ty was in the process of opening the back door as he answered, “Cool.  Then what?”

I looked at him through the window, “And then we head into the city and see if we can’t find a safe place for you three.”

I caught his face fall at my statement, and knew he was thinking they would be joining us on our journey.  After the disappointment faded, I didn’t miss the irritation flickering with the tightening of his mouth.  I felt guilty for making him feel like I thought he was just a kid and couldn’t possibly survive my future endeavors, but I just really didn’t want more blood on my hands if I could help it.

“Oh,” was all he said.  “Roscoe, come on boy,” he directed at the dog, and watched as he came bounding up to him.  “In,” he commanded, as he pointed into the back of the Hummer.  I was mildly impressed to see the dog leap into the car, without hesitation.  He turned a few circles, and sat panting happily back at Ty.  “Good boy,” he told the slobbering animal, as he stroked his ears a few times.

We all finished heading over to our doors, and with some shuffling, scooting and slamming, were soon situated to complete our next mission.

Chapter 7:  Welcome to Pleasantville.

As Jack started to drive, I reached to the floorboard, where I had stashed my pack.  I dug for a few seconds before my fingers found what I had been after.  I pulled the hairbrush out of the bag, and set it in on my lap.  I pulled the hair band that had been keeping my locks at bay out, and proceeded to detangle the mess.  It hadn’t really occurred to me the day before that even in a pony, I would still face tangles, and yet here I was.  After ripping out quite a few chunks on my mission to unknot it all, I wound the slightly longer than shoulder length mass back into a messy bun, and wound the tie back over it.

Hair finally brushed, I grabbed the deodorant stick, and tried my best to ‘de-funk’ myself.  I knew freshening up was somewhat laughable at this point, but didn’t really want to be the stinky kid in the car.  Besides, when you spend all day next a Greek God in a hot car, you try a little harder to not smell.

Once I was done, I plugged the IPod back in, and again scrolled through the playlists.  Finding the perfect song for the occasion, I hit play and waited for ‘Eye of the Tiger’ to fill the speakers and leaned back with an anticipatory smile.  I wasn’t about to let the apocalypse bring me down; I had to remember that soon I would be lounging on a tropical island, teaching myself to turn coconuts into rum.

Jack shook his head and started to laugh, “Really Angie?  Are you even old enough to have seen ‘Rocky’?”

Chloe chose that moment to lean forward between our seats to ask, “What’s ‘Rocky’?”

Jack and I were still laughing over my apropos choice of tunes, so Ty answered her.  “It’s a boxing movie from the eighties.”

Her lip curled, and she sat back.  “Oh.  Sounds lame.”  This just caused Jack and me to laugh harder.  This just caused us to launch straight into an outright giggle fit; to the point where my ribs started to ache and tears snaked from my eyes.  I knew it wasn’t particularly funny, but thought maybe our sudden hysteria was due to too much intensity in too short of a time span.  Or perhaps we had finally just lost our minds.

Once our giggles subsided, I started to notice signs of life appearing around us.  Or what used to be signs of life, seeing as how ‘alive’ was a matter of opinion for the folks we had happened upon thus far. 

Houses were nestled cozily in the rolling hills, (again, I use this term loosely) and the trees started to give way to standard issue housing developments with perfectly manicured greenery.  More and more signs started to appear on the side of the road, as we approached the tiny town in question.  Calling it a town was an overstatement; it wasn’t much more than a couple of stores and a smattering of homes. 

Jack took the exit leading down into the town proper, and we slowly rolled down the main drag.  It was like seeing a real ghost town.  Post Office, general store, gas station, Dairy Queen… all completely deserted.  I kept waiting for a tumble weed to drift across the road, but to my disappointment, none did.

We continued down Main Street; everyone’s eyes peeled for a gun store.  Finally spotting ‘Gil’s Guns and Sports’ on the left, sandwiched between ‘Nancy’s Beauty Nook’, and ‘Hank’s Hardware’, we pulled to a stop.  I had to wonder if there was a store in this town not named after its owner, but didn’t have the time to test that theory.

We sat in the car, idling for a few minutes, as we once again inspected our surroundings.  I would have thought there would at least be zombies milling around the streets, wandering aimlessly in their pursuit of food, like you see in the movies, but not a single soul could be seen. 

I reached down, and grabbed my ever reliable gun harness, and began to check my guns for ammo.  I wondered if we would be better off just getting all new weapons, or just grabbing new clips and shells for what we had.  On the other hand, there were more of us now, and we could use a few more additions to our arsenal.  I wasn’t real fond of the idea of handing kids guns, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

I was just finishing strapping on my holster, when I turned to ask, “Okay, do you guys know anything about guns?” to the backseat.

Ty was staring out the window, still looking for anyone who happened to be around while he answered, “Yeah, dad used to hunt, so we’ve both been through Hunter’s Safety.”  He was referring to the course they put children through to teach them the safe way to handle guns.  I only knew this because a boy I dated in the eighth grade went through it, and bored me to death recanting the details.

I found this to be a somewhat reasonable and acceptable answer, but wasn’t quite done with my speech.  “Fair enough, but we aren’t hunting deer; we’re going to be shooting at people.  I know they’re crazed, flesh eating monsters now, but they are still
technically
people.  Are you two going to be able to handle that?  We don’t need anyone hesitating and getting bit by mistake.” I stared openly at both of them, trying to drive my point home.  I remembered how hard it had been for me leaving my apartment and knew the guilt of that would haunt me until I died.

They thought on that for a moment before Chloe finally responded with a casual shrug, “Can’t be any different than ‘Assassin’s Creed’.”

Well didn’t that just sum up today’s society in a nutshell? Video games have prepared us to take up arms and fight for our lives without a second thought.  I couldn’t help but be grateful that myself, as well as these kids were so jaded by the violence in the world, and our own methods of entertainment, that we could kill other people without batting an eye.  God Bless America.

On that note, I handed them each one of the handguns, and watched as they expertly checked the clips and the safeties, before looking back at us wordlessly, waiting for their next orders.  The irony of watching a twelve year old girl, with a teen idol gazing intently back at me from the front her shirt handling a Smith and Wesson, and fifteen year old emo hipster, who looked as if he should be handling drumsticks rather than a Ruger, was not lost on me.

After giving the other handgun to Jack, along with a shotgun, and the kids the other handguns, I wasn’t terribly thrilled to be left with one shotgun and the remaining handgun, along with my short sword.  It wasn’t as much weaponry as I would have liked, but would have to make do until we had stocked back up.

Without further ado, we all shared a nod of acknowledgement, and started to get out.  Roscoe whined, but Ty held up his hand, and the dog sat still and quiet.  Damn, he was like a fucking dog whisperer or something; I had never seen such a well behaved animal before. 

Shaking my head in amazement, I dropped down, and began searching for potential threats. Looking left and right, it seemed off to me that the entire street was empty.  None of the shops were boarded up, just empty; as if they had closed the night before and the whole time had slept through their alarms.  What bothered me the most was how quiet it was; no cars honking, no cell phone conversations, and no one hustling down the sidewalks.  I knew it was a small town, but there should’ve been people here, or at least infected.  The whole thing made my stomach turn and I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping up my shoulders.  This was bad.

We moved as quietly as possible as we headed to the door of the shop.  Jack reached it first and tried the handle. 

“Locked,” he whispered to me as he jiggled the handle.

“Uh, well I guess we break the glass or something,” I shrugged in answer.  How else do you break in somewhere without a key?  I knew it was kind of obvious, but kept my snide remarks to myself.  My bad feeling was making me impatient and I didn’t want that affecting anyone else.

“Here, let me.”  Ty started forward pulling a pocket knife from his pants.  I watched in shock as he used the tip of the blade, and a hair pin he just so conveniently had stuck to the knife to pick the lock on the front door.  After turning the knife and pin this way and that a few times, I heard it click, and the handle gave way, allowing the door to be opened.

“How the fuck do you know how to do that?!”  Jack asked with obvious admiration as Ty started to pull the door open.

Ty just innocently shrugged his shoulders, “I dunno.  Just picked it up, I guess.”  He didn’t say anything after that, and I had to mentally re-evaluate him.  There was obviously more to the story, but the interrogation would have to wait.

Just as he had the door almost all the way open, I remembered the bell.  “Wait!”  I shot out in a loud whisper, “There’s going to be a fucking bell, and that is gonna bring whoever is around, around.”  Ty gave me a blank stare and continued to pull the door.  Just as I thought, a cheery little ‘ding-dong’ sounded through the doorway, announcing our arrival.

As the last tone died, an old man wearing the standard flannel shirt of the hunting sort, came barreling around the counter to greet us.  I wished it had been a happy greeting, but alas, his eyes were bloodshot, his skin that sickly green color, and he was missing an arm.  Actually the stub he was sporting looked as though the limb had been chewed off by a crowd of rats.  Flesh and sinew, and other bloody bits were just dangling away, as he continued his amble in our direction.