I looked at Chloe as she stood in the doorway of the store. I hadn’t seen her this excited in ages. “Come on!” she shouted and ran inside. I glanced around and followed her in.
She looked at what was left of the electronics store and cautiously stepped over the remains of a computer workstation, all the while muttering something about hell’s snowballs and calculations. We’re quite a pair. I’m the muscle, she’s the tech. I break, she fixes. I’m no “dumb blonde”, but I’m nowhere near her level of smarts. Taking a quick look around, I could see that this place was like everywhere else, just a pile of scrap, dust and memories. I didn’t see a point in staying, but Chloe couldn’t resist. After all, this place used to be one of the biggest and most popular electronics stores around. She had wanted to build a radio of all things so that we could find other survivors. Always the optimist.
She disappeared for a minute until I heard her rummaging around in a pile of broken tech. I wandered over, keeping an eye out…you know…just in case. “So, you got this?” I leaned over the pile at her crouching form, watching as she attempted to take apart a device with the old screwdriver that she always carried. The swearing told me that she was focused on her task and forgot that I was even here. I had startled her and her blue eyes looked at me the same way that a cat does when you spook it.
I miss cats.
She nodded, pushing a stray black hair out of her face and went back to work. “Good,” I replied, handing her my pistol. “I’ll go check out the rest of the place.” “Be careful Trace,” she said. I nodded. Baby sisters can be so overprotective. “Yell if you need me,” I told her, “We only have a few bullets left between us.” And a few meant four in the pistol for her and four in the rifle for me. I threw the rifle on my shoulder as I headed to the other side of the store.
I don’t know why Chloe thinks she can make anything out of that damn equipment. Electronics could be found, but they were usually busted. We haven’t seen a living soul in three months, but that doesn’t mean that we’re alone. It’s been only a year. A year of fighting. Fighting what was once human. Yeah, you’ve heard it all before. You played Resident Evil, watched The Walking Dead. So did I and guess what? That stuff was nothing compared to the real thing.
You don’t come across just one of these mutations. Instead, they travel in small packs, like dogs. They fight amongst themselves and have an alpha. The closest thing that I can relate it to is the zombies from Romero’s Land of the Dead. If they find you and they want you, they are relentless. At least until something more interesting comes along. They don’t just hunt to feed, but they collect. They can use the most basic of weapons…bats, knives, that sort of thing. They will fight you for something better, like a rifle, a pistol, but can only use it if it’s loaded and ready to fire. Thankfully they haven’t figured out the rest yet.
So, we keep to the shadows. We cautiously venture through the city. We’ve been holed up in offices, cafés, even a closet for days, waiting them out. While many fled when things went south, Chloe and I stayed. I still don’t know if it was the best move. There’s more open space out there, but here, we know the area and can hide and find supplies. Out there, well…it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.
I knew Patient Zero. Thanks to us, she hasn’t been seen since the virus started to spread. I know that they haven’t stopped looking for her. She was just a carrier, immune to the virus’ effects. For the rest of us, if you got ANY fluids from these things in your system, well, it was nice to know you. Chloe made me promise that I wouldn’t hesitate if it ever happened to her. I’ve seen what it does to the body. With all of the bleeding out, it almost appears to be melting you from the inside, no wonder you go insane before it’s all over. But you don’t die, you mutate. That’s why your head still works.
Think high-functioning zombie. Yipp-friggin’-ee.
I found a vending machine in the employees’ area at the back. Lacking any spare change, I didn’t think anyone would mind that I used the butt end of the rifle to help myself to the contents. Chocolate bars and chips are not exactly health foods, but I’m not too concerned about my calorie count at this point. We both looked like we could use a good meal, and junk food was better than nothing.
I was tearing into a Mars bar when Chloe screamed.
Dropping my stash, I rushed back to the main floor just in time to see her pointing her pistol at five of the bastards. Within moments, I had downed the three closest to her and got the attention of the other two. Chloe ran towards me. Suddenly she tripped over some debris, sending her pistol flying. One of the creatures headed towards the gun as the other continued towards me. She stood up and ran, stopping when she realized that she dropped her weapon.
“Forget it, Chloe! Come on!” I shouted, keeping my eye on my advancing target. She ignored me and went back, only to come face to face with her attacker. They stood face to face with the pistol between them. I had one bullet left. Question is, which one of these things do I shoot?
Chloe’s lunge towards the pistol gave me my answer. I raised the rifle and emptied the last bullet into the pistol-grabbing creature just as it grabbed her. She pulled herself free, pistol in hand, and ran towards me. Stopping a few feet away, she raised the gun and put a bullet in the last one’s head, saving me the trouble of getting blood and guts all over my rifle.
The two of us stood there for a moment, collecting our breath and our thoughts. I looked at her with a smile. It wasn’t returned.
As I walked towards her, all I could hear was the sound of my own voice whispering “no” over and over again. She looked at me in sympathy. My face was wet as I reached out to her. “Don’t touch me Trace,” she said, stepping back. “I don’t want to risk it.” I looked at her hand. The creature had scratched her, its own blood and filth were now working its way through her system. Death would be slow, painfully slow.
She lifted the pistol to her head. “No!” I shouted, knocking it from her hand. I know the promise that I made, but now that the moment was here, I couldn’t do it. I just can’t. She looked into my brown eyes and smiled. “It’s okay Trace,” she said. That’s when I realized that she had pulled out her screwdriver. In one swift motion, she stabbed it into her temple, her body dropping to the floor, her blood covering her pretty face and staining her hair.
And I just stood there and let her do it. Me, the brave one, the one that had kept us fed and safe. Me, the one that when it came down to it, was just chicken shit. I couldn’t even hold her to say goodbye. The chance of contamination was too much of a risk. So, I just stood there. I don’t know how much time went by, though judging by the darkening of the store, it was probably getting close to dusk. This was when we would normally find a safe place to hold up for the night, but tonight I would be doing that alone. I looked at the pistol. It was covered in blood, hers and its, so I left it there. Stepping outside, I took a quick look around.
Suddenly, I heard them. I really wasn’t surprised. We’d been followed for days, managing to stay just ahead of them. I knew that they would eventually find us. So I had a choice to make. Stand here and let them take me. Take my own life before they arrive. Run and hide. All three choices sucked. I raised my rifle. It was empty but they didn’t need to know that.
A couple of armoured trucks came up the street and stopped. Two soldiers stepped out. I knew who they were and why they were here.
“I’ve got one sir.” I heard on one soldier’s walkie-talkie. He raised a hand as he moved forward. “Put the rifle down. You’re unnumbered and outgunned.” I knew that but I didn’t care. I just stood there waiting. I heard guns click as four more soldiers stepped out. They needed me alive, that much I knew. I wish I took that pistol now. I don’t know why I didn’t.
That’s a lie. I know exactly why. I want to know what really happened. And I want him to answer for Chloe.
I lowered my weapon and got on my knees. A soldier rushed over, shoved me to the ground, handcuffed me, and dragged me to the truck where I was tossed inside. The roar of the vehicle vibrated in my ear as I laid on the floor. No one offered to help me up, making me feel more like a package than a person. Eventually, I got up myself, shuffling over to the side and propping myself up enough to sit on the long, metal bench. That’s when I actually paid attention to who was on the bench across from me.
He looked over at me, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. After all this time he still hasn’t bothered to fix them. He gave me a faint smile. I couldn’t tell if it was pity or satisfaction. It certainly wasn’t affection. “Hi Dad,” I said.
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