I opened the door, which led to a small work-room-break-room, and to the left was another door that turned out to be an even smaller closet-sized bathroom. It was incredibly dark in here without a window, so I left the main door open. It wasn't easy to tell for sure, but it looked like dusk outside, which meant the sun would be shining again soon enough, filling the room with more light. I laid the burning newspaper down on the ground and let it fill the room with its flickering, dying light. The paper smelled much more beautiful than anything I'd breathed in days.
I sat on the toilet and uttered a cry, my body aching and unhappy in at least a thousand different ways, but the relief was undeniable.
In the small office, there was a backpack with someone's stuff in it. Feeling like an asshole, I emptied the contents as thoroughly as I could and wondered when I would (or if I ever would) get used to the new outlaw lifestyle recent events had afforded me. I put all my ammo in itfrom the flimsy plastic bag I had, brought it out into the storefront, and stuffed it with snacks, water, and a couple of sodas. I grabbed a bottle of caffeinated soda, determined to squash my headache, which I hoped was from caffeine withdrawal rather than some other issue and started drinking it.
I looked around for the shotgun, assuming I might have laid it down when I walked into the Sunoco last night, but I didn't see it anywhere. Feeling like an old person losing his memory, I wandered the three small aisles and turned in circles as if that would make the shotgun suddenly appear in front of me. When my efforts produced no results, the only thing I could think of is I left it on the curb where I sat before making the final walk here. That was stupid of me, and now I'd have to backtrack a couple of blocks to get it if it was even still there.
Great.
A needling feeling swooped through me that everything was taking too long, that I should already be where I wanted to be, in my wife's arms, and moving on with what remained of our lives together. I recognized this pattern of thought and feeling for the delusion it was, but it was persuasive nonetheless. I was getting antsy. The feeling reminded me of being on a long stretch of highway, and you know the hotel is just another fifteen minutes away. Still, you're so exhausted from driving that all you can do is fantasize what it would be like to get out of the car, stretch your legs, eat a nice meal, take a hot scalding shower, and feel human again.
I had to forcefully stop myself from thinking about the whole idea of a nice hot shower because as much as something like that would be heaven on earth right about now, it wasn't gonna happen. Maybe never, but indeed not any time soon. Such luxuries were far beyond reach. To steady my mind, I brought it back to the 'new zombie' type from yesterday. This did help me to achieve a kind of mental clarity and desire to push forward, to get to my destination. Even if Claire wasn't at the Diner, I would push on...for her sake. Where to, I didn't know. Maybe I'd let that black spoke of horror gobble me up, take me into the final abyss of nothingness and meet Claire wherever she was beyond it. Or perhaps I would spend the rest of my days convinced she was still alive and keep searching for her.
Either way, my journey would come to its next major junction at the Diner, and that was from my estimation another mile or two away. That was easy walking now that I had supplies again.
I got going as the sun tried to pierce its way through the haze of human catastrophe.
Whether it was luck or a slap in the face was a little hard for me to determine, but on the sidewalk a few blocks away from the Sunoco, and just a few blocks down from the Diner a 10-speed gear shift bike lay on its side unattended. I looked everywhere. It wasn't locked. This was surely what my wife referred to when she said things like 'Sod's Law.'
With gratitude, I picked it up by the right handlebar, adjusted the seat to my height, swung my leg over, and got moving. If she wasn't at the Diner, I would keep this goddamn bike and try and find her.
A needling feeling darted through me that everything was taking too long, that I should already be where I wanted to be, in my wife's arms, and moving on with what remained of our lives together. I recognized this pattern of thought and feeling for the delusion it was, but it was persuasive nonetheless. I was getting antsy. The feeling reminded me of being on a long stretch of highway, and you know the hotel is just another fifteen minutes away. Still, you're so exhausted from driving that all you can do is fantasize what it would be like to get out of the car, stretch your legs, eat a nice meal, take a hot scalding shower, and feel human again.
I had to forcefully stop myself from thinking about the whole idea of a nice hot shower because as much as something like that would be heaven on earth right about now, it wasn't gonna happen. Maybe never, but indeed not any time soon. Such luxuries were far beyond reach. To steady my mind, I brought it back to the 'new zombie' type from yesterday. This did help me to achieve a kind of mental clarity and desire to push forward, to get to my destination. Even if Claire wasn't at the Diner, I would push on...for her sake. Where to, I didn't know, perhaps I would spend the rest of my days convinced she was still alive and keep searching for her.
Either way, my journey would come to its next major junction at the Diner, and that was from my estimation another mile or two away. That was easy walking now that I had supplies again.
I got going as the sun tried to pierce its way through the haze of human catastrophe.
Whether it was luck or a slap in the face was a little hard for me to determine, but on the sidewalk a few blocks away from the Sunoco, and just a few blocks down from the Diner a 10-speed gear shift bike lay on its side unattended. I looked everywhere. It wasn't locked. This was surely what my wife referred to when she said things like 'Sod's Law.'
With gratitude, I picked it up by the right handlebar, adjusted the seat to my height, swung my leg over, and got moving. If she wasn't at the Diner, I would keep this goddamn bike and try and find her.
With the bike between my legs, the cross-bar caressing my crotch, and my hands going numb and tingly again, I stared up at the disheveled and bloodied faux siding of the Diner. The windows had been blown out, glass shards littered the pavement where weeds still grew through the cracks. A cold wind whipped around the side of the building and slammed through my blood and into my bones, my whole body shook and my jaws clacked together rapidly before I could calm down. I listened but heard no one inside. I hoped zombies hadn't figured out how to keep quiet until their prey showed him or herself, but I felt now that anything was possible, and it was wise to air on the side of prudent caution.
Nonetheless, all I wanted to do was jump off the bike, race up the steps, burst through the door and call out Claire’s name. The problem was I just couldn’t seem to unglue myself from the spot. Something about the way the patterns of blood on the fake white siding of the Diner, and the fact that D was missing from DAN and DINER, so that it now read AN’s FLYING INER made me worried.
Slowly, reluctantly, I let the bike fall to my left, and I untangled my leg and foot from it. I readied a gun, releasing the safety, and double-checked the ammo. The weapon was ready. I wasn't.
Stepping forward like a man deep inside a dream, I ambled up the steps, each thunk of my shoes pronounced superstitious dread in my bones. My heartbeat was audible in my ears.
The door to the Diner was open, darkness lay beyond it. Crouching low, I raised my pistol up to my shoulder and waddled forward carefully, slowly, quietly. If something or someone was in there that shouldn’t be, I’d have the advantage of being missed on the first attack.
Three inches from the door, I stopped. There was a squeak of wood or linoleum from within, as though someone or something had moved. So it wasn't my imagination, after all.
Aiming the gun in front of me now, aware I was backlit by the gray daylight outside, I rushed the rest of the way in, fell to my left side, and rolled onto my back and up on my feet again, still crouching, aiming. I knew this part of the building as well as I knew my own home, probably better. To my immediate left was a small walkable area to the main counter. Directl
y in front of the door leading inside, there were rows of tables in a long aisle. The tables led to a back wall. From here, the only option was to turn left again to get to the kitchen or the customer bathroom.
A lght source would be quite handy right about now. I gazed into the darkness, waiting for my eyes to adjust, there was light streaming in from my right through the shattered windows, which was lucky, so at least I could make out the tables. Above me, there could be an assailant on the other side of the divide where waitresses and waiters once upon a short time ago would stand, take orders, and sling food over to my wife and me and whoever else used to come in here.
A slight groan of wood or linoleum announced itself again some few feet to my right and ahead. Discretion may be the better part of valor. A time and place for everything and all that. But now was the time to speak out, to get my bearings, even if that meant temporarily putting my would-be attacker at an advantage.
“Whoever’s in here with me right now, please know I’m not here to fight. I’ve come here seeking my wife, Claire.”
Silence greeted me in retort.
"If I'm attacked, I will shoot."
A louder groan, and then a thud with the tinkling of silverware against plates.
Loud footsteps on a tabletop and then what sounded to my ear like someone jumping, and then silence. I waited for the sound to land again, not far from me, but there was nothing.
Outside then.
Someone must have jumped out one of the windows and was outside the Diner. I got to my feet and ran out the door.
Also by Scott Marmorstein
A Sparkling Aura ~ A Sparkling Life
Super Quick Aura Basics
Broken Continuum
Guaranteed Or Your Memory Back
One Way Out: A Zombie Apocalypse Novella Page 6