"One thing at a time," she whispered and instinctively looked around and up above, hoping to see her sister to guide her. She wasn't around.
Tosha leapt up and gripped the bottom of the ladder and it pulled down reluctantly and only made a soft grating sound as it did. She realized she was skinnier and weaker than before this shit hit the fan, and she wasn't a big girl to begin with. She also tired quickly, and had to stop to catch her breath. This was a good thing because a shadow passed over her from above.
Chapter Nineteen: One False Move
The woman was too preoccupied with the zombies and the gate to notice Tosha as she came down the fire escape and dropped to the ground. Tosha was about to pounce when someone from above called down.
"Go see if any other gate is opened. I think we got company," the man shouted down. "This is bullshit."
"The bullshit is you ordering me around," the woman mumbled. She was dirty, her hair stringy and wild. Her clothes were tattered but she carried an assault rifle and had two knives strapped to her thighs. Tosha had to let her go and was now pissed her path to the roof was being watched. A few seconds earlier and she would have either been halfway up the ladder or crawling onto the roof and right into a chick with a loaded gun.
She watched the woman get to the gate and try to pull it shut, shooting two zombies as they tried to enter. The sound of gunfire came from above but further away. Had they moved on to other targets, or was someone waiting and watching her?
Tosha went inside the building to try to find a safe place to hide until all the shooting was over. She'd already gone through it once and didn't remember anywhere she would feel totally safe, especially knowing gun-toting killers were above her. She settled into a ruined office with a wall missing, putting the dolly in the corner and stretching out.
She wasn't surprised to see her sister again, this time standing in the rubble of the broken wall.
"Now what? I'm about done here, sis. I gotta tell you. I'm not used to all this hiding and sneaking around. I haven't done it my entire life, and I know it gets me in trouble way too much but it gets me by. It's who I am, right?" Tosha began pacing. "There are people on this roof that shot at me and pissed me off. Hell, they got me so mad I've thought about nothing except how to kill every one of them. Does it make me a bad person? Maybe. I don't care. All I know is I need to do something." Tosha looked at her sister. "Fuck this hiding shit. I'm going up to the roof and I'm going to make someone pay. You coming?"
Tosha grabbed the handle of the dolly and walked back outside just in time to see the woman as she began climbing up the ladder. As the woman stopped and saw Tosha, she was greeted with a throat punch. Tosha pulled her to the ground, covered her mouth and put the shotgun to her face.
"I'm gong to ask you questions and you're going to answer them by shaking your head. Do you understand me?"
When the woman didn't move, Tosha jabbed her in the eye with the shotgun.
She waited a few seconds for the woman to recover, her eye swelling up. She'd have a nice shiner in the morning, if she lived that long. "Do I need to explain how this is going to work again? You still have a good eye."
The woman shook her head.
"There, was that so hard?"
Tosha moved the shotgun until the woman shook her head again.
"I'm going to ask you some questions and, based on your answers, I am either going to kill you or let you live. Understand?"
The woman nodded.
"Are there more than ten people on the roof?"
The woman nodded.
Shit. "More than fifteen?"
She shook her head.
That was something. Tosha smiled. "Do you have a ton of ammo up there?"
The woman shook her head.
"Then why are you idiots shooting and shooting?"
The woman stared at Tosha.
"Is your husband or boyfriend or kids up there?"
The woman nodded.
"You people shot at me. Almost killed me. This is going to be what I like to call payback. Are there kids up there?"
The woman shook her head.
"Good. It will make it easier for me to kill everyone then. I hope you have a lot of food up there."
She shook her head.
"Figures. You people are just waiting to die." Tosha lifted the shotgun slightly and uncovered the woman's mouth.
"What about me? I answered your questions."
"Yes, you did." Tosha stood up and offered the woman a hand.
When the woman took it and Tosha pulled her up, she bashed the woman in the face with her elbow. When the woman dropped back to the ground, Tosha leapt on top of her and began smacking her in the face with the shotgun until she stopped moving.
Mathyu was standing a few feet away.
Tosha shrugged. "I did what I had to do. This bitch had a gun. How do I know she wasn't one of the fuckers taking shots at me for fun? Besides, she has a husband or boyfriend or fuck buddy up there. She'd never walk away from this place." Tosha stood. "I don't have to justify my actions to you or anyone else, anyway. I am all about me from this point forward. You just stand their like a fucking mime and watch me do my thing."
There were no more zombies in the yard that were standing.
Tosha took the two knives off the woman and the assault rifle, which she checked. It was empty. Tosha put it on the dolly and rifled through the woman's pockets, finding a cigarette lighter and three pieces of hard gum.
She'd been surprised no one had looked over the side all this time to see where the woman was and she didn't want to take a chance any longer. Tosha went up the ladder with a bottle of opened alcohol, its neck stuffed with one of the dirty rags.
There were still gunshots coming from the roof. She hoped more zombies had been drawn to the shots and not all the breaches had been closed. I should have opened the gate again, she thought, but it wasn't worth running across the open area and getting spotted and shot in the back.
Tosha was going to do what she did best from now on: whatever it took to survive, and without putting too much thought behind it. Stopping and thinking it through had never helped her in the past and it wasn't going to help her now.
At the top of the ladder, she paused before peeking up and over and checking out the group of people who'd tried to kill her. She was going to return the favor.
Chapter Twenty: Warfare
There were only three men with rifles patrolling the roof right now, weapons at the ready. They were covering the other three sides of the building, which was fortunate for Tosha. There was a group of others, all clumped together, standing or sitting around two fifty-five gallon drums, flames and smoke rising from them. They were all wrapped in layers of clothing, with extra blankets strewn about. She didn't see any food or water, though. Tosha wondered why they were living on the roof, exposed to the elements, when there weren't any zombies in the buildings below and (until she got here) the exits were closed off.
A few feet in front and to the right of her sat an air conditioning unit. She crouched down and ran to it, putting the bottle and the shotgun down. Watching the people on the roof, she walked backwards and climbed back down the ladder.
She prepared two more bottles, stuffing them with rags, before ascending back to the air conditioning unit. She was able to do it twice more before one of the men got too close. He was still focused on the ground below but as Tosha got back up the ladder she knew there was no way she'd be able to dash back across without being seen. And his patrol would take him right to her in a few minutes.
The shotgun was in the hiding spot and useless right now. She needed a distraction. Crouching down on the ladder so her head was too low for anyone to see, she lit the rag with the cigarette lighter by wrapping her arm around the ladder so she didn't fall. If you slip, the Molotov cocktail will explode and either the fall or the explosion will kill you, she thought.
Tosha rose back up and scrambled to the roof, throwing the makeshift grenade as far as she coul
d toward the main group.
The closest man, the one she was worried about, lifted his rifle but, instead of firing, followed the Molotov cocktail with his eyes. It was all she needed to run to the air conditioning unit and scoop up the shotgun as she heard the alcohol explode and people scream.
She stood and fired the shotgun, striking the man and dropping him in a rain of blood. She picked up another bottle and lit it, putting the shotgun back down. The first toss had missed by a couple of feet but it had been a direct hit on at least one person because they were busy trying to cover someone with blankets and put the fire out.
Tosha lit the next one and threw it as far as she could.
So far the other two men with rifles didn't know where she was, looking around but coming toward her.
The throw was perfect, exploding onto the side of one of the drums and scattering flames in all directions, coating people and the piles of clothing all around.
One of the men saw her and began shooting. Tosha ducked down and lit the last bottle she had with her, crawling on her belly to her left and taking a look.
The man was running at her.
She stood and threw the bottle over his head, but he instinctively ducked and let it sail. Before he could react, she had drawn a knife and charged him, knowing he was too far for her to get a clean attack before she'd be shot but having no choice.
The explosion behind jarred him and he half-turned just as Tosha got to him, jamming the knife into his side. As his eyes went wide, she twisted it and pulled the gun from his hands, tossing it to the side.
"This is for shooting at me, fucker." She yanked the knife out of him and hoped he didn't die right away.
When she turned, expecting to be shot by someone else, she was surprised to see the remaining people running to the other side of the roof and climbing down what she figured was another fire escape.
The roof's contents were burning, billowing smoke.
Tosha found the man's rifle and went to the side of the roof, looking down.
The survivors were running to the nearest gate in panic, even with zombies stumbling around.
"You're all not so tough anymore," Tosha yelled.
One of the men, holding a rifle, looked back at her. She shot him in the shoulder and he pitched back. On the ground, as he tried to rise, he was an easier mark and Tosha shot him in the chest.
She knew she could let them run and they'd all probably die at the hands of zombies, but, if even one survived, they could turn around like she did and want revenge.
Tosha was getting so sick of Harrisburg, and knew she'd worn out her welcome. She had one more job to do after this and then she'd be gone.
She shot as many as she could from the roof before the fire was out of control behind her, noting only two people remained.
Tosha slipped down the fire escape ladder as quickly as she could and ran off to kill them.
Chapter Twenty One: Save Me
"Lyssa, get your fat ass out here," Tosha shouted. She looked up to the window. "I know you're up there. I can smell you, you skank whore."
Tosha carried the shotgun, which was out of shells, and the last bottle of alcohol. It was strong rum and she'd been pulling on it for the last hour to keep warm and to get drunk. It was working on both accounts. She knew she needed to eat something but the long walk back from the trucking company had only made her more determined. There'd been zombies everywhere, single walkers who were easy to dispatch with one of her knives, and she was pissed she didn't have a permanent and safe place to live and gather her meager belongings thanks to this Lyssa bitch. She'd stolen her things and tried to kill her, even though Tosha had let her live and saved her life back in her boyfriend's apartment.
"Last chance before I come up there," Tosha shouted. She waited a full minute, making sure a zombie didn't sneak up on her. It was still cold but at least the sun was out, there didn't seem to be snow about to fall from the sky, and what snow was left was starting to really melt away.
The front door to the apartment building was wide open, which was not a good sign. Tosha pulled her knife but held the shotgun for show. This could easily be a trap and it wasn't like Lyssa didn't know she was coming for her. You had to scream like an idiot instead of just sneaking up and gutting the bitch, Tosha thought. Pretty fucking stupid.
There was blood on the floor that hadn't been there the last time Tosha came this way, another bad sign. Maybe Lyssa was dead, finally ripped apart by a horde of zombies. It wouldn't be a big loss, but Tosha wanted to kill her. It was an insane thought but it was how she was feeling. Selfish and crazy, right now.
She hadn't seen her sister since the trucking company and she didn't know what it meant. She hoped nothing bad and hoped she'd see her again. Even dead, she was the only companion Tosha had right now.
Tosha kept moving, turning her thoughts off. She had one singular reason for being here: Lyssa. She was at the front door to the apartment and stopped.
The door was open, blood splattered on the floor.
"Come out and let's talk," Tosha said quietly, unsure how she was going to proceed. If she blindly walked inside, the bitch would get the jump on her, but she couldn't just stand out here all day. "Unless you're too chicken-shit, you ugly fat cow."
She figured that would get Lyssa to at least say something.
A few seconds later a rail-thin zombie, caked blood on her face and dripping onto her naked flabby boobs, shuffled to the door in welcome. It wasn't Lyssa.
Tosha stabbed it in the face, with the knife, repeatedly, until it stopped moving and fell to the floor.
Tosha stepped inside and saw the body with two zombies hovering over it, both ripping flesh from the bone.
"Get away, you sick fucks," Tosha said and attacked, easily stabbing both in the head before they could react, watching as their eyes finally closed and they stopped moving.
She bent down to get a closer look at the ravaged body. The head was gone, either already eaten or cut off. The body was ripped open, intestines and blood strewn across the living room.
"Lyssa?" Tosha whispered, knowing from the clothes the corpse wore it was her. "You stupid bitch."
Tosha sat down on the dirty floor and sobbed.
Dying Days: Randy Jackson
Armand Rosamilia
Randy Jackson (named after the lead singer of the Long Island, New York band Zebra, and not the dude from American Idol) had no idea where he actually was. Not that it mattered, he supposed. Every city and town was another death trap, filled with zombies and looters and killers, the town stores picked clean of food and supplies.
He was fine now. Right in the head for the first time in his life. Randy could see where he'd gone wrong, and where he needed to go.
But first, he needed to figure out where he currently resided. Since his escape from Baltimore, he'd headed in random directions, killing zombies and just surviving. He remembered Becca… but she was like a dream now, a fantasy he'd had instead of an actual woman he'd met and… lost.
He turned off the engine to the candy apple red Charger and exited the vehicle, making sure he had his baseball bat at the ready. He knew he'd been heading north and into cold weather. Everything had been random since Baltimore. Randy might have been running in circles for all he knew, and might, even now, be a block away from the apartment building where it all started. Where he'd met Becca…
It was cold, the end of winter melting the last fragments of snow, and a faint warm undercurrent giving hope to sunny days and better times ahead.
Randy needed to find a place to hide and food, both things in high demand and not likely to be found. There was an eerie silence on the deserted street, like this dead town was holding its breath.
His ears registered the odd sound and he was already moving behind a torched building before his mind had fully processed it. He put his back to the cold bricks and fingered his baseball bat handle.
Randy crouched, getting his shoulders loose in the cold weather, tryi
ng to relax. If it was a zombie, he could easily deal with it. If it was another living person, he would play it by ear. Everyone was now a one-man army, and out for themselves. Even the Hellfire Club, as evil as their individual members were, had a sense of strange community. But out here, in no man's land, it was every man for himself. Randy was calm and back to his senses and hoped he was done killing. He wanted a nice, safe place to call his own. Somewhere warm where he could grow some vegetables, raise some chickens and build a log cabin or a beach hut. He had no idea how to actually do those things, but he had all the time in the world to learn them.
He took two steps to the street and looked both ways, but there was nothing. Just decay and the lingering smell of fire and death.
Randy stiffened when he felt something cold and metallic suddenly pressed against the back of his head.
"Move and I will blow the top of your head off. Understood?"
Randy went to nod but the gun barrel was pushed against him.
"What fucking part of don't move are you not getting? Drop the Louisville Slugger and put your hands on your head."
He did as he was told. It was clearly a female holding him at bay with a gun, and he hoped she was small so he could overpower her if he had to. He wouldn't hurt or kill her. He was done with the senseless violence. Randy just wanted to be left alone.
"I don't have anything," he said.
"The baseball bat, for starters. The keys to your car, as well." The female paused. "And your clothes."
"What are you going to do with my clothes?"
"Use them to trade for things in the future. I don't know." She tapped his skull with the gun barrel. "You aren't in a position to ask questions. Slowly take your clothes off."
"It's freezing."
Dying Days: Origins Page 8