After walking down every isle, his bag was almost half full. He had food, now he needed water, lots of water. Electrolyte beverages would also be beneficial. Cale moved to the back of the store, toward the glass doors that lined the wall. Once there, he noticed an odd reflection behind him. Readying his knife again he turned to face the attacker. She had crept up on him stealthily. She was dressed as a sales clerk, and had probably been lying behind the counter, unable to get out because the doors opened inward. Another undead was walking up the isle facing the other direction, her clothes stained with blood, and her brown hair dull. Her face had multiple bite marks, and one of her eyes hung optic nerve. He brought the knife up under her chin as she approached. These things weren’t equipped for speed. The knife pierced through and up into her brain. As she fell to the floor the air escaped from her lungs, letting out a loud scream.
This startled Cale. For a moment he thought she’d been alive, only approaching for help. He looked at her once more. She was definitely infected, but her scream was unsettling. Something banged against a door. It had a blue sign with the figure of a white stick man on it. Her scream must have alerted whoever was in the restroom. He’d better hurry; her death rattle might have gained the attention of the infected outside. Running now, Cale made it to the aisle with the gallon jugs of water. He fit three into his bag, and carried one. This was a good start, but he needed to come back for more. As he walked to the door, outside the large windows he could see a group of undead. Ten of them were gathered around the fuel pumps, maybe more. He looked at the corpse on the floor. She may have killed him after all.
“Shit,” he said to himself.
There had to be a back door somewhere. Cale ran to the back of the store, hoping to find an exit. Along the far wall, next to the coolers that stored milk, was a metal door. A sign stated ‘Employees Only’. He pushed the door open and entered with his knife ready. He was in a stock room. Along the concrete floor were crates of milk and different juices. Some of the crates had been knocked over. There had been a struggle here. A small hallway led out of the room. He continued down it, noticing a trail of blood along the wall. Someone had been bitten and made a run for it through here. Cale was hoping that there was a way out the back, and that this smear of blood wasn’t the sign of a dead end.
At the end of the passage were two doors, one straight back, and the other to the right. The door on the right was heavy, with a handle like a walk in cooler. The blood trail ended there. Cale walked to the back door. It opened easily, and once outside Cale realized he was about to walk into a massive group of infected. The closest was only five feet away. Quickly he stepped back through the door and pulled it shut, with the sound of metal grinding on metal. He was trapped. Zombies out front. Zombies out back.
“Fantastic.”
They began pounding at the metal door. Cale could hear more crates being knocked over in the first room. He ducked into the cooler, not forgetting that the bloody trail ended there. It was cold in here. Cale could see his breath as he exhaled. It was a dim room, and the glass doors to the interior of the store were foggy. One of the infected began striking the cooler door. The undead didn’t have the sense to open doors, thank God. A switch next to the door caught Cale’s attention next. He gave it a flip and the lights in the room came on. The tan walls reflected the light. Metal shelves full of various drinks surrounded the rest of the room. He looked down. It was cold enough to freeze the blood on the floor. Cale followed the frozen trail along the wall; it entered another part of the giant freezer. The passage was covered by strips of plastic that hung in the doorway. This smaller room was a lot colder than the previous one. The walls in this room were white and lit the room much better. Metal shelves lined the walls just like the first. This is where they must have kept newer products before moving them to the display area. Walking forward, Cale slipped on a small patch of ice. He fell onto his rifle.
“Damn.”
It looked like someone had spilled water all over the floor in this room. He shivered, as he climbed back to his feet. Once standing, he noticed a man sitting in the corner.
“HEY!” Cale yelled.
The person didn’t stir. He proceeded toward the injured man, whose pale face was covered in frost. His arm had been bitten. The veins around the bite were dark, but didn’t spread far. He wasn’t alive but he definitely wasn’t an undead. His name tag read Dillip.
My Friend Dillip
Dillip had been bitten but hadn’t become a reanimated corpse, why? Cale could only speculate. Did his friend here have an immunity? Was he bitten by an undead or a living person? Was it because of the temperature? Cale shuddered at the freezing temperature in the room. It looked like he was going to be stuck here for a while, so he back-tracked into the larger and warmer room. This was it. There were no other doors, just the one heavy door, with a large group of zombies waiting outside. Cale searched for an air duct, or some other kind of ventilation. No luck. Through the windows he could see blurry figures passing by. One of them stood against the glass, as if he were sniffing it. Cale reached over and shut the light off. They could smell him, but eventually his scent would dissipate. Cale thought about opening the door and bottle necking them, but he wasn’t that fast with the knife, and gunfire would only draw more of them. Waiting would be less risky. He needed to let them spread out. His chances of survival would be higher that way.
“Well, at least I brought you,” he said, as he drew his iPod from his pocket.
Pulling it from the Ziploc bag he’d placed it in, he flipped through his song library, hoping to find something that would take his mind off the next few hours. He sat down in front of the door, making sure that if they did start to get in, he’d know. He found his Mellow play list and hit start. When It Comes by Incubus began to play. With his back to the door Cale began to get drowsy, but the cold room kept him from slipping into sleep. After a few more songs he checked his watch, to find he’d only been sitting there for about an hour. He decided to get up and look around. Through the windows he could see the aisles of the store, and for a second it looked like a normal scene, people walking up and down the aisles and going about their average lives. But these weren’t people anymore. They were undead cannibals now. They paced the aisles, looking for the origin of the scent they followed.
Cale went back to look at Dillip. He approached the cadaver with caution, and began analyzing the man’s arm. Well, he had definitely been bitten, and he was absolutely sure it was an undead that did it. The infection covered the area around it. The veins in his arm were black, and his skin looked necrotic, but it was only in the immediate area of the bite. Dillip’s body was ice cold. Maybe the cold held off the progression of the virus. That had to be it. The infected were dead, and their body temperature would already be low, so they most likely would enter a hibernation mode of some kind. It made sense to Cale. The hum of the cooling unit stopped. Cale went to look through the windows. The power had gone out. He couldn’t see the aisles anymore. He waited there in the cold darkness of the cooler. He could hear the infected running into shelves in the store. He didn’t even notice that the infected at the door had lost interest. He leaned against the shelves of bottled water, straining to see into the store. If their numbers were down, he’d use the darkness as cover.
Cale heard clicks and hums again. The lights flickered on, revealing an infected, pushed up against the glass where Cale was trying to see.
“Whoa,” he said, as he jumped back.
It stood there waiting, not even aware of how close it was to a potential meal. Cale wrapped up his iPod, placed it back in the Ziploc bag, and then returned it to his cargo pocket. He returned to a sitting position in front of the door. After another hour of the power disconnecting and reconnecting, Cale decided it was time to leave. He checked the glass doors. He couldn’t see any of them in the store. The blurry body of the sales clerk was all that occupied the aisles. With his bag on his back and the jug of water in his hand, he opened the
door and grabbed his gun. The hall was clear. Cale went to the back door. He inched it open and carefully, he looked out. No one was around. The sun was beginning to set. Running now, Cale made it outside and took cover behind a van. To his right there were only a few of them in the street, and his left was devoid of any obstacles.
After looking at the map all day he didn’t need to consult it. He would easily be able to get back to the boat. Stealthily Cale moved from cover to cover. Street lights and building lights illuminated his path. Occasionally the power cut out. In the darkness he’d run as far and as fast as he could. Cross country and track had really paid off for him. He passed by the ‘Metropolitan’. He was close now. Once on the beach he could see the Freedom Runner silhouetted by the setting sun, but it was a long way out. Cale ran down the beach to the big yellow raft, and threw his bag and the gallon of water into it.
Quickly he began pulling it into the water. Just like last time, he pulled it out with all his strength. Only a few undead stood on the beach, once again confused by the water and not aware of Cale’s presence. He was now free of the current that had pulled him back toward land. Awkwardly, he climbed into the raft. Cale picked up the oars and began rowing toward the Freedom Runner, stopping only when he needed to catch his breath.
Nocturnal Errands
Back on the yacht, he unpacked his bag, glad to be in a zombie free area. So far the plan was working beautifully. Hit and run. Now he’d take a couple of days off, and attempt another run. He remembered the route to the gas station. That would most likely be where he’d be getting all of his food and water. After each run up there he’d stay in the freezer for a couple of hours to throw them off his trail. Sitting in the comfortable dining area, he ate a can of spaghetti. He played with the idea of going back now instead of tomorrow. Bored, he sat there wondering what he should do, and decided to explore the ship. He checked all the cabinets and drawers. In the drive cabin he discovered a little red book. It was a journal.
The journal was mostly filled with business items: shipment prices, rental logs, and dock logs. Cale continued to flip through it, hoping to find something of interest. After several minutes of skimming pages, he reached the end of the book. There was nothing of any merit. It was strictly a business journal. Cale flipped back to the first page. A picture slid out; he must have missed it the first time through. It was a picture of the boat’s owner, perhaps on some island, with the Freedom Runner behind him on the water. The water was a deep blue, the sky clear and beautiful. The sand on the beach was white and tropical. It looked like paradise. He closed and discarded the book. Having nothing to do, he walked up on deck. He looked out over the abandoned city. The buildings were lit, and the street lights were on. It was almost normal. Cale stood thinking about his plans for the next few days.
“Hit and run,” he told himself. “Don’t be stupid. Two runs in, wait a few days, and go again.”
Cale stood and debated with himself for a long while. Finally he came to a decision. He went back down below deck and readied his bag for another run. He grabbed his iPod and put it into his cargo pocket, slung the rifle over his shoulder and placed the pistols in their holsters. He grabbed Zach’s combat knife and attached it to his belt. Minutes later he was lowering himself into the raft. The wind was beginning to pick up but he didn’t plan on staying ashore long. With the cover of night he could get in, get more supplies, and get out. He wouldn’t even have to wait in the freezer.
“Just one quick run, then rest for a day, and I’m on my way the next,” he told himself as he rowed toward the beach.
Once on the beach, he moved the raft into place and raised his rifle at the ready. Cale ran past dark stores and alley ways toward the store. So far he hadn’t run into any trouble. He could hear a couple of undead down the street from him, but there was no way they knew he was there. The lights in the city flickered, and then went out. He moved silently in the darkness. He took cover behind a car just as the lights came back on. Cale narrowly missed being spotted by a cluster of infected, a pack of ten or so. It was only a second later when the lights went out once more. Cale seized the opportunity to run for it. He heard the soft moans of infected as he ran by. He made sure to avoid the alley where they had gathered before. This time the journey only took him thirty minutes. He entered the parking lot and passed the fuel pumps. It wasn’t long before Cale was rushing down the aisles of the station, grabbing more canned foods. With his bag half full, he hurried to the jugs of water. As he fastened his bag shut, a couple of undead walked into the aisle.
“Hey guys,” he said, as he raised his fire arm.
He killed both of them; there was no way he could take two of them with a knife. Now that he’d made enough noise to alert the whole block of infected of his whereabouts, it was time to leave. Cale approached the front of the store. He stopped short.
“Fuck.”
He had seriously underestimated their ability to find him in the darkness. Outside the window he could see dozens of pale faces, eyes staring blankly through. For a moment he was paralyzed with fear. There were so many of them. The crowd began pushing the door open. They walked slowly, like gliding death, confident in their ability to kill their target.
A wave of panic rushed over Cale. He had to get to the back of the store, and fast. Quickly, he turned around and made a run for the stock room. Barreling through the door, he discovered that it was occupied by three infected. With no time to grab his gun, he dropped the jug of water as one of the undead slammed him against the wall. With one hand, Cale kept him from biting, and kicked the other two away as they slowly came to assist their comrade.
With his other hand, Cale managed to grab Zach’s knife from the holster on his belt. The adrenaline began to kick in, as Cale’s vision became blurry and he forced his aggressors back with difficulty. He must have blacked out, because when he came to, he was huddled over one of the infected, still stabbing him. The other two lay still, with their heads cut open. Now the group from the front began to flow in through the stock room door. He had to go, he’d been foolish, and now he’d pay for it with his life. He ran out of the back door, only to discover the parking lot was overrun and his way back had been blocked. He ran in the opposite direction now. Street after street, alley after alley, all he found were sections full of the infected. He was forced to run deeper into the city. Fumbling in the darkness he searched for an unlocked door, hoping to duck inside, just to catch his breath. Cale found a moment’s peace ducked in between two vehicles. He was becoming more and more disoriented in his panic.
“Which way am I facing?” he thought to himself.
Behind him he could hear the scuffling of the limp steps of his hunters, hear their groaning at every street corner. The street lights flickered, giving the avenue a horror film feel. After catching his breath, Cale began running again. Block after block he ran, deeper into the dead city. How could he have been so stupid? What was he thinking?
“Yeah, they can’t see me, it’s too dark. But what about me seeing them?” he asked himself angrily.
Finally, in front of a series of three story flats, he saw his opportunity for escape. Hurriedly, he ran up the steps, skipping over two in a single stride. Grasping at the door handle he tried to turn it, but to no avail. Anxiously he shook the handle, hoping to jar it open. It was a heavy door, firmly locked. Cale turned and looked around. There were only a few undead across the street, but they were slowly closing in on him. Looking for any way in, Cale spotted an open window, but couldn’t reach it from the steps. The street lights flickered and went out. The ravenous yells of his pursuers came from only a few yards away. The window was high off the ground; he’d have to jump for it. He quickly threw himself at the opening. All the gear he carried, the bag, his rifle, and the two pistols made it difficult to pull himself in. He awkwardly felt around using whatever he could reach to gain leverage. With a grunt and a kick he was in. Once inside he shut the window. He had managed to escape for now, but he was by no mea
ns out of danger.
Refuge
He was in an apartment. The walls were blue with white trim, and were dimly lit. Outside, Cale could hear the hungry moans of the dark mass. Some of them sat below the window, arms raised just into view. They’d eventually lose interest, he hoped. Not wanting to make any noise, Cale placed his bag on a chair and drew his knife. His side stung, from straining to climb through the window. He must have reopened his wound again. The power came back on, lighting the house.
He was in a living room. A large couch occupied the middle of the room, and a coffee table and two chairs sat facing a television set. To his left was a small foyer with a flight of stairs going up. Across the foyer was a door-less frame that led into what turned out to be a dining room. The living room he was in opened, as well, to another room. Cale approached the doorway with caution. If he could clear this home, he could stay the night here, and go back to the beach in the morning. The room he’d walked into wasn’t a room at all, but a closet. Other than a stack of towels, a vacuum, and a broom, it was empty. The dining room was next on his list. Quickly, but silently, he cleared it. There was a large round table surrounded by six chairs, and the pictures that once hung on the wall were now broken on the floor. Cale could see a small pool of blood in the next room, which was the kitchen. In fact, it was a gorgeous kitchen. Cabinets lined the walls, along with an automatic dishwasher, an oven, and a stainless steel refrigerator. The sink matched the refrigerator, and there was lots of counter space, but now wasn’t the time to admire the architecture of the house. With the ground floor cleared, Cale proceeded to the stairs.
Blood on the Sand (Z Plan) Page 12