Tales of the Apocalypse: A Dystopian Anthology

by Publishings, BBB

  Rustling on the stairs indicated that someone was moving, following her unspoken warning. Her chin lifted and defiance wafted off her. She didn’t speak, though.

  Seeing that her eyes stayed on Mike the longest, I edged forward. I didn’t blame her. He was a big, ugly fucker, but it was kinda insulting, too. Get the fuck over it.

  I took another step and a slight tremble entered her fingers. She glanced at whoever remained hidden before looking back at me.

  “It’s OK. We aren’t here to hurt anybody. Just needed a place until the explosions stopped,” I said, keeping my voice even.

  “They’re over. You can go now.” The knife jerked towards the door and returned to its original position.

  “Actually, we can’t. Our friend hit his head, and he’s still lying on the floor bleeding, so if we could get through this bullshit, I’d appreciate it.” Backing away, I reached out and grabbed Mike’s shirt without ever taking my eyes off the girl. “Feel free to go. We have other shit to do.”

  I knew us being so close would only scare her more. If we gave them enough room, they’d probably stop feeling like they were being cornered. Didn’t mean I’d stop watching them, though. We still didn’t know who hid or what they had planned. For all I knew, she was bait. Wouldn’t be the first time a team used the woman as a lure to rob stupid guys.

  When we reached Chris, I switched the light back on and trusted Mike to keep a lookout while I checked the wound. After I pulled the shirt away from Chris’s head, I pushed out an exhale. It seemed that the gush had dammed itself to a trickle. At least we had one positive sign, but when I took a look at his eyes, they were still shut and his face remained slack.

  “Is that the guy from the diner?” a new voice asked, and my head whipped up.

  A second dark silhouette followed behind the first woman but she carried some kind of long stick and seemed more timid.

  “It doesn’t matter,” the first woman answered while she continued easing towards the door.

  Mike clicked on his flashlight, blinding the pair as he aimed it in their direction.

  The new girl raised one arm to block the light while the first one took a step forward, her trembling hand jabbing that knife out in front of her.

  “Oh, calm the fuck down,” Mike said drolly. “Nobody here plans on doing anything to either one of you. Look.”

  When he turned the flashlight up so that it shone over his own face, the girls blinked.

  “How can I look when you blinded me like an asshole?” the louder one asked.

  Mike sighed and waited until they quit that rapid blinking shit.

  “It is the guy from the diner, Shay. Remember? They were at the table when we watched the news of those men at the hospital,” the shorter one explained as she started to step forward.

  She didn’t make it very far because her friend’s arm smacked across her chest, holding her back.

  “Doesn’t mean we know them. Come on.” Shay pulled at her friend who wasn’t having it.

  “No,” she said as she ripped away from Shay. “They said someone is hurt. We can’t just leave them here.”

  “We could have,” Shay mumbled. Louder, she said, “Fine, but if I have to stab someone, just remember, you started it this time.”

  “I started it last time, too, so nothing new.” The shorter woman laughed before bouncing towards us. “I’m Coleen. I was the waitress from the diner…”

  She trailed off as she tried to calculate how long it had been. Wasn’t hard to place her, though. We hadn’t been to any diner since the first reports came in.

  “Right. We remember you. Don’t we, Soren?” Mike asked with that light still aimed at his chin like a child telling ghost stories.

  “Yeah, sure. Either of you have any medical training? Maybe some antibiotics?”

  I didn’t care about Mike’s obvious attraction to the girl. His voice always changed when he got around some girl he thought was cute. All I worried about was whether either of them might know something. Maybe they were nursing students or in med school. Did med school let you work?

  “Shay has taken some basic first aid classes. No drugs, though. Sorry,” Coleen answered as she dragged the other woman forward.

  Shay glared at her friend and kept her weapon in her hand but she lowered it to her side. Better than nothing. Wary eyes watched me as she skirted around Mike, keeping out of his reach.

  When she reached us, the knife twisted in her grip. Kneeling, she said, “I will cut you. You stay over there. I just need some light.”

  I nodded and tuned out the inane babbling going on between our two friends. Instead, I concentrated on her hands as she leaned forward and lifted the shirt I’d pressed against his head.

  “Looks like it's stopped bleeding.” Her fingers pressed against the edges of the cut and for some reason, I followed them. “He probably needs stitches, though. Can you sew?”

  She peered up at me, her brown eyes searching mine. I shook my head, raising my arm to push my hair off my forehead with my arm. I had no fucking clue how to sew. Probably a useful skill at the end of the world.

  “I don’t either, but Coleen can. His skin’s burning up. What else is wrong with him?” she pressed.

  “Cut on his leg. We need to get him some antibiotics. That’s where we were going when all of this happened.” I gestured.

  She looked back down and fiddled with him some more. Eventually, she asked for the flashlight and did other stuff. I didn’t pay much attention, though. Her fingers were oddly fascinating and the tiny crease between her eyes gave me an easy measure of her concern.

  I’m not sure why, but when she frowned deeply, I burst out with, “Where were you two heading?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Just not here,” she answered without ever looking up.

  I could tell she hadn’t really heard my question. It was just one of those automatic answers that slipped out while she became engrossed in what she was doing.

  “Want to help us break into a pharmacy? Mike knows where a nice bomb shelter is, too. We were planning on riding out the next several weeks there.”

  “Mmhmm. Sure.” Her absentminded tone remained. After a few minutes of me cursing myself inside my head and watching her, Shay announced, “I think he just knocked himself out. When he wakes up, keep an eye on him. Vomiting is bad. Sleeping is bad. I think those were the important things. They mean concussion. Not sure what you’d do for it, anyway. Not now.”

  She slapped her thighs, grabbed her knife off Chris’s belly, and stood.

  “Well, nice meeting you, but that’s about the extent of what I can do. Hope your friend gets better.” She backed away, but hesitated before she reached Mike. “If you need it, our apartment is open. It’s a hike up, but if you need somewhere to hide while he recuperates, it’s there.”

  She disappeared behind Mike, then reappeared pulling her friend towards the door.

  Coleen tried to shrug her off as she said, “Mike said he knows where a bunker is.”

  “Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  Shay

  We argued for a while, our voices rising as Coleen dug in her heels. Eventually, I gave in. I remained wary, even as we broke into a small pharmacy and ransacked the shelves. Especially while we traveled through forest paths with Chris hopping along and past houses that became fewer and farther between.

  But when we came upon the bunker, I felt a bit of relief. Gaining entrance wasn’t easy, either. A huge, burly guy came out once Mike beat on it enough. After an eternity of posturing and threats, we finally got in. Some older guy came out and recognized Mike’s father's name.

  Apparently, he’d been the one to draw up the plans which explained how he knew about it. The older guy had been the supervisor over the construction of it. The burly guy, who we later learned was named Foreman, had been the foreman.

  Once we got inside, the owner was nowhere to be found. According to Foreman, he’d died shortly before the world came to a h
alt. A couple only a few years older than Coleen and I had a few kids running around the bunker, and a small group of guys sat together playing cards. The final couple consisted of a man that appeared to be in his fifties and his newly ex-girlfriend, a total bitch named Sheryl.

  The bunker itself wasn’t anything like I’d imagined. All of the time we struggled with Chris and during all of the walking we’d done, I’d pictured something like a storm shelter, maybe a cellar if we were lucky.

  This one resembled a complex. It contained a gathering room in the center that connected to another circular kitchen area. Spokes split off the outside of both circles, forming hallways to various parts of the building. Some held bedrooms, while others contained storage areas and even a hydroponics room.

  It had a generator that still ran, but that wouldn’t last forever. Foreman said it was also hooked up to solar panels, but even that wasn’t sustainable. Still, I had hope that it would keep us safe until things could be controlled.

  Except as days passed, we didn’t see any control. No military knocked on the door telling us it was safe to come out. Nobody came to claim the land. Time passed, and we spent a lot of it telling stories and playing games. Then Barry began to run out of his prescription, and we had to go into the little town nearby. We’d gotten low on a few things, so those were added to our list.

  To be fair, we drew straws. I picked one of the short ones, and when I glanced over at Coleen, she grimaced. A quick peek at her straw showed a long one.

  Soren, Chris, Foreman, and Sheryl also picked the short ones. We gathered what weapons we could find: kitchen knives, a bat, a fireplace poker, and a brick. It was a disheartening collection, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t survived with a filet knife.

  We crept outside and nothing moved. We feared that the war had escalated to nuclear bombs while we were below and in the dark. The silence was deafening but expected since we were in such a remote place. Though months of growth made it difficult to travel, we made it through to the city in the valley.

  When we reached the outskirts of town, we heard the first bit of noise. Just a clang, but we all jumped and then squatted down. Our heads swiveled around, searching for the source.

  "There," I whispered as I pointed down towards the highway. A lone figure wobbled across the road. The woman, at least I thought it was a woman, wasn't really doing anything but trudging along. Still, we weren't really sure what the zombie people would do to us. The television conveniently left out whether they tried to eat brains or not.

  We watched her until she crossed the street and wandered down a sidewalk where a building blocked her from our view.

  "OK. Let's go. Remember, stay together, keep up, and be quiet. And don't let one of them touch you. Who knows how this stuff spreads, if it even does," Foreman whispered harshly. I nodded and glanced around at the others as they did the same.

  Foreman took the lead with only a knife in his hand. He was a big guy, pretty stereotypical of what most people thought of as a construction worker. He was bald, and the top of his head seemed permanently sunburned even though we hadn't seen the sun in weeks. He told us that he was a foreman of a crew and laughed about how his last name fit so well with his job title. We'd heard the joke many times since we'd entered the bunker, but it seemed to be a running joke he enjoyed repeating.

  Chris followed him with the bat in his hands. His blond hair that started out styled now layover to the side, often falling into his ocean blue eyes. He’d regained his health, mostly anyway.

  Sheryl was in the middle carrying the empty bags. I didn't care for her. She complained too much and did too little. Her sobbing and shrieking after Barry broke it off with her didn't help. What did she expect when she admitted she had cheated on him with a bunch of different guys? Since then, she spent nearly every minute eyeing the rest of us women as though we were going to swoop in and steal him. She schemed more than she worked, only doing things when he looked her way. She was the one I planned to trip if the zombies came after us.

  I came next in line and carried my filet knife and the brick. An empty bag banged against my back as I glanced around, my head on a swivel. I felt better being outside of that bunker. Over the weeks, I'd started developing feelings for Chris and Soren. Each day became more and more confusing. Unfortunately, even out here I was stuck with both of them.

  Soren followed behind me, knife and poker in hand. Soren was tall, towering over me. He started with close-cropped mahogany hair but it had grown some and stuck up in some places. It was kind of cute. Like floppy ears on a growling puppy, I thought.

  We marched across the divide in a line. Everyone one of us with our heads twisting this way and that. My muscles were tight and my knuckles were white as I gripped the knife in my hand. The silence was eerie and any little sound any of us made caused me to jump. We picked our way down until we reached the first building. There the line collapsed as we pressed ourselves against the wall.

  One by one, Foreman waved us around him. When my turn came, my heart beat so fast that I wasn’t sure I would even survive the next few steps. I was positive I would drop from a heart attack, or not drop rather. It was all so confusing. My head moved back and forth as I scanned the empty street. Taking short, quick strides, I crossed the street and flattened against another building, watching, always watching.

  Our target was a small mom and pop shop that was only a block into the town. It was a general store type of thing that carried a little bit of everything.

  Though we all remained tense, we didn't have any trouble making it to the store. A few of the dead sat on benches or walked around, but none of them seemed very interested in us. Thankfully, the store appeared to be empty as well and hadn't been locked before the owners went wherever they were now.

  “Wait,” I said as everyone was preparing to leave. “There’s a storage room. Shouldn’t we at least look so we’ll know whether it’s worth coming back for or not? And there’s still a lot of stuff we can get in here. Like the lights. They’d be great for the bunker. Those will burn out, and we’ll run out of replacements.”

  Foreman ran his scarred knuckles through his beard, his eyes focused on the storage room door. I knew he didn’t want to open it. We’d talked about only going places that were in sight before we went into them. The shop had large glass windows that we could scan before stepping inside. The dirty windows were why he picked that particular store in the first place.

  He nodded slowly, his hand tensing as he reached for the baseball bat he found behind the counter. “You’ll open it, though. It was your idea, so it’s only right that you take the risk.”

  I was fine with that. Soren was not. Before I even took a step in that direction, he jumped in front of me and blurted out, “No. I’ll do it. She’ll stay right where she’s at.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head. His eyes implored me to let him do it, to listen to him. I relented, though I didn’t like it. I sighed and gestured towards the door. When he rewarded me with a grin, it nearly blinded me, causing my belly to flutter.

  With all of the drama over who was opening what, there was nothing behind the door but a stock room with boxes. When no one started screaming or running, I pushed through. The room was divided down the center. To one side, rows of metal shelves sat, mostly filled with boxes or stacks of product. On the other side sat a small break room and a partitioned office. I hung back and let everyone else go first.

  When I finally strode through the door, I noticed everyone pilfering the shelves and trying to stuff their nearly full backpacks with even more items. I just shook my head and went to the cabinets in the break room area. Bags of coffee, sugar, bottles of powdered creamer, packages of crackers, and a few other snack type foods were waiting to be used. I didn’t dare open the small fridge. Not after all that time. I also rifled through the office area snagging pens, pencils, paper, and some tape. The best haul was the coffee pot, though. Ours had gone out weeks before, and some people weren’t deal
ing with the lack of caffeine very well at all.

  I also found a small wagon by the rear door. It sat as dusty as the rest of the items, the blue paint nearly obscured by the film of abandonment. I bent down and examined it, checking to make sure that it would be able to handle the trek back to the bunker. Large, worn wheels that were still intact was a welcome sight. The only thing I could find wrong with it was a long crack running down one side of the wooden panels that made up the sides of the cart. We were all cracked, and we still worked, so I thought the little helper would fit right in.

  “Hey, guys. Look what I found,” I called out.

  Sheryl’s head popped around the side of a shelf, and her eyes widened just before she cut around the corner.

  Making a beeline for my prize, she sighed and said, “Oh, thank goodness. My feet hurt so bad.”

  Then, to my confusion and horror, she plopped down right inside of it.

  “Um, Sheryl, I’m not pulling you anywhere. Get out of the cart,” I said, making it as firm as I could.

  She didn’t move. She just rolled her eyes, pasted on what I guessed she thought was a flirty smile, and said in her high pitched baby voice, “Soren’s big and strong. He can pull me, can’t you, sugar?”

  Soren flinched back, shaking his head.

  A smirk crossed my face, and I said, "Get the fuck out."

  She scowled and made a big show of it, but she got out. We had to endure her whining for the rest of the trip. I kept waiting for something to stumble upon us, so I could push her into them. Hopefully they would eat her.

  It was a good find, though, and allowed us to bring back even more. By the time we made it to the bunker, we'd skirted a few of the zombie people. Other than that we didn't have any issues.

  Even though we were supposed to rotate out, I ended up going on every run from then on out. Not surprisingly, either Chris or Soren ended up making sure at least one of them went with us. Dating rules of the apocalypse, I suppose.