Within These Walls: Series Box Set
Page 27
“Al stays with the vehicle,” he says, cutting the engine.
“Quit trying to leave me behind,” she tells him sharply. “I’m going in.”
“You’re staying here.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo. I know what I’m doing more than you do.”
“I could go in alone.” I suggest.
I really would rather not, but I definitely want to get this done quickly and their arguing could take forever. I also don’t care to roll into a possibly delicate situation with Syd. I have no idea what he’ll do in there. He could easily get us both killed. At least if Ali goes in with me I know she’ll keep her cool. She played it perfectly when we first arrived at the sporting goods store, and honestly, I’d like to take her in here and see her do it again. Sexist or not, having a female with me softens my appearance. It makes me less of a threat and I’m less likely to get shot on sight.
“You’re not going in alone,” Alissa says firmly.
She opens her door to jump out.
“Alissa Marie, you are staying in this car,” Syd commands, pulling out the big guns with the middle name. He means business.
“Jordan, run!”
Alissa leaps from the RV. She’s already running toward the store entrance without a single look back when Syd turns to look at me with murder in his eyes.
“You get her bac—“
I don’t stay to listen. I’m more concerned with Alissa entering this store alone than I am with whatever it is he has to say. It’s all getting old anyway.
I run from the RV with Syd shouting incoherently behind me but I’m not listening. I’m focused on the store in front of me. On the girl running full tilt toward danger. On the blood pumping through my veins as I chase down the long dark hair flying wild in the wind. On the weightless wonder of being out of that RV, away from everyone else and hell bent on diving into this mess headfirst.
Alissa slows to a halt when we reach the doorway. She waits for me with a grin on her face that I don’t think she’s aware of. I feel like less of a freak because I can see it in that grin, in her eyes. Part of her is enjoying this too.
“How do you want to do this?” she asks quietly.
“Let’s go in slow with weapons lowered. Don’t raise them unless you see an infected. We’ll call out, let them know we’re here.”
She nods in agreement. “I’ll follow your lead.”
We walk in side by side, nice and slow. The place is absolutely trashed with shelves knocked over and packages all over the floor. Blood is everywhere near the registers. I think there was an outbreak here before the looting started. While all of the blood from infected is dark, new or old, this stuff looks dry.
“Jordan,” Alissa whispers, nudging me.
There’s a pallet at the end of an aisle loaded with goods. I hear hushed voices coming from that direction accompanied by the rustle of bags and boxes. They’re clearing the shelves.
“Come on.”
I lead Ali toward the main aisle so we’re standing out in the open. We both glance around quickly, scanning for infected. Nothing.
“Hello!” I call out.
The rustling in the aisle stops. I count to five, ready to shout again, when the voices pick up. They’re still speaking quietly but they’re frantic now. Upset. Scared.
“There’s only two of us!” I call to them again. “And we’re barely armed. Just enough to fend off any infected. We don’t want any trouble.”
There’s a long silence. Seven seconds.
“What do you want?” a female voice calls back.
I glance to Alissa. She nods in understanding.
“Same as you,” she responds calmly. “To find supplies. That’s it.”
More muffled speaking from down the aisle. It’s becoming less frantic. More of a discussion.
“We have guns!”
I sigh deeply. I’m not sure if that’s a threat to get us to leave or a threat for us to be good while we’re here.
“We don’t wa—“
“So do we!” Alissa cuts me off. “But I’d rather keep it holstered, get my Chex mix and get out of here. Wouldn’t you?”
More silence. I hear the rustling of plastic, the undeniable sound of a junk food bag, and suddenly something comes flying over the stop of the aisle. It lands a few feet ahead of us, skids across the worn linoleum and comes to rest near our feet.
It’s a bag of Chex Mix.
I look to Alissa with raised eyebrows. She smiles at me.
“Keep clear of us and we won’t have any trouble!” a young man, probably no more than thirteen, calls out to us. Someone shushes his angrily. It’s the kind of shush only a mom can give and it reminds me of Syd using Alissa’s middle name.
“We’ll stay clear!” I promise. “Thank you!”
Alissa grabs us a cart that we wheel to the other end of the store. We load up on medical goods, both of us wordlessly agreeing to leave a portion behind for the family down that aisle. We gather soaps, shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, toothpaste. I toss toothbrushes in the cart, first a few then more and more. And more. Alissa eventually notices. She gives me a stern look broken by her smile. I toss two more in. She quickly grabs one from the cart and throws it in my face. I calmly pick it up off the floor and toss it back in the cart.
“Jackass.”
“I’m only trying to help,” I tell her innocently.
“Help what? Keep gingivitis at bay?”
“Help you keep fresh breath. It’s become more important to me recently.”
“Really? Are you saying you wouldn’t want to kiss me with morning breath?”
I look at her seriously. “Ali, I’d kiss you with morning breath, no question.” I take a step around the cart, closing in on her. “I’d kiss you with morning breath after a night binging on garlic bread.”
“Ooh, we should see if there’s any garlic bread,” she whispers excitedly.
I take another step toward her. “I’d kiss you with morning breath after a night binging on garlic bread and drinking PBR.”
She grins as she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. “This is getting elaborate. And unrealistic. I’d never drink PBR.”
“What would you drink?” I ask, my arms going around her waist. The feel of her in my arms with no eyes to see it, to hate it or wish me dead for it, is amazing. I’d stay here all day like this if I could. Let Syd sit outside to stew in that RV.
“Corona.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised. “Light?”
She leans in close until her breath is on my face. Until her lips are nearly touching mine.
“Extra.”
I groan, pulling her body tighter to mine. “A woman after my own heart. With lime?”
She grins wickedly. “Only pussies need it with lime.”
My responding laugh is cut short by the sound of crashing from up front. Alissa freezes in my arms, both of us tensing as we listen. Loud voices call out, none of them the family we encountered and none of them friendly either. Ali and I break apart, both of us pulling out our weapons quickly. She’s bypassing the bow and going straight for the gun. I’ve got my bat but she stares at me long and hard. I know what she’s thinking. It’s not infected. Infected don’t speak. They don’t shout. They also don’t let you get in close enough to beat them with a bat before putting a bullet in you.
Reluctantly, I stow my bat and pull out my pistol.
We make our way down the aisle slowly, careful to stay close the shelves. There’s more shouting, more crashing. I wonder if the people who just came in know the family is here or are they making this much noise simply because they can? It’s not long before I get my answer.
“Stop!” the familiar voice of the woman cries out. It’s not the same tone she used with us. She’s not just cautious. She’s panicked.
“Put the gun down,” a male drawls in annoyance.
“We don’t want any trouble. Just leave us be.”
“We will, we will.”
“That’s ours!” the kid’s voice cries out.
“Evan, stop! No. Let them have it,” his mother tells him.
“No, it’s ours.”
“No,” the man counters, “it’s ours.”
“Fine, it’s yours,” the mother agrees angrily. “Now let us pass. We’ll leave quietly, no trouble.”
“Is that your RV out there?” the woman asks her.
“No.”
“I’d peg them for the minivan,” the man says. “Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a nice van. Big too. Plenty of room for this food.”
The mother doesn’t answer.
“See, we came here on a bike. A hog. No room for food on that.”
Still no answer.
“We sure could use a van like yours to carry all the supplies you’ve packed up for us.”
I hear the jingle of keys, the protests of the young boy.
“Well now, that’s very helpful of you but we need someone to drive the van. See, we’re taking that RV outside too and we don’t have enough bodies to drive all of these vehicles. The, uh,” The man’s voice changes. He’s moving around, probably looking down aisles. “The driver’s of the RV. Are they in here with you?”
“We’re alone,” the mother answers immediately.
“Oh no,” he says sadly.
His tone sets the hair on my neck up on end. I risk a peak around the end of the aisle in time to see him, tall and broad, clad entirely in black. He comes to stand in front of the mother. She’s pushed her son behind her to protect him but he’s trying to get away. To stand in front of her to protect her.
“I don’t like being lied to,” the man tells her darkly. “And you just lied to me, didn’t you?”
Again, she doesn’t answer but she doesn’t back down either.
The man shakes his head. Then he whips out a black pistol and brings it up to her face.
“No!” the boy shouts from behind her.
I jump into the main aisle, drawing my gun on the man. I hear Alissa rush out behind me and I’m sure she’s drawn her weapon as well. We’re fast, but we’re not fast enough. No one is faster than a bullet. Than evil on the trigger of a gun.
The gun fires. The young, brown haired woman explodes into nothing. Her body crumples to the floor just as I let loose a shot that flies wide. It hits a box of cereal on an endcap near the boy. Corn puffs and marshmallows spray everywhere. The sound of Alissa’s gun firing beside me rings in my ears. The guy grunts and grabs his shoulder. She’s winged him. I move my terrible aim to the woman, but she’s already down on the ground behind a shelf.
“Get behind cover!” Alissa shouts at me.
We both dive behind registers as bullets fly down the main aisle from the woman’s hiding spot. She’s frugal, though. She only burns two before accepting she can’t hit us. In the silence I can hear the man groaning and cursing about his shoulder.
“Are you alright?” the woman asks him.
“No, you bitch, I’m shot,” he growls.
“You’ll live, though, right?”
“Yeah.”
The boy is crying. I don’t look around the register because I don’t want to see. I don’t want to know what a heartbreaking sight it is for this kid to be weeping over his mother. I’ve been in his shoes too recently. I’ve been curled in a ball almost like I am right now in a room surrounded by madness, mourning the loss of the one person I wanted to save.
“Jordan!”
“What?”
Alissa is one checkout lane ahead of me, closer to the crazies.
“We have to save that kid.”
“You have to save yourselves first,” the guy grumbles. His voice is getting closer.
I look out around the edge of the candy bar display I’m hiding behind. I catch a glimpse of the guy slowly making his way toward us, his gun leveled at my face. I jerk back not even a second before Twix explode beside my ear.
“Kid, you have to run!” Alissa calls out. “We’ll cover you.”
“Who’s gonna cover us?” I mutter.
“I’m not leaving her!” the boy screams miserably. I can hear the tears in his voice.
I lay my head against the candy. “Yeah,” I call to him. “I get that.”
Alissa fires a shot behind me, scaring the hell out of me. I hear the guy crying out again.
“Did she get you?” the woman shouts.
“Clipped my leg!” he yells back angrily. “You want to get out here and help me or what?”
“I’ll take you apart piece by piece,” Alissa tells him calmly, “or you can leave with the bullets you have in you now and call it a day.”
“Not until I see that pretty face of yours, sweetheart,” he says tightly, obviously in pain but too stupid or stubborn to back down.
I frown. I don’t like the fact that the woman hasn’t answered him. Not audibly. Keeping low, I hurry to the end of my checkout lane. Pressing my back against the register stand, I peak around the corner. There she is. She’s creeping slowly up the outside aisle with her bleach blond hair and her gun pointed at the floor. She’s almost to Alissa’s register.
I lift my gun slowly, take a deep breath and say a small prayer to the gods of good aim. Then I fire.
And miss. I hate guns.
The shot has startled the woman, though, and she drops to a crouch behind the register just ahead of Ali.
“Jordan?”
“I’m fine. She’s behind you in the next lane over.”
“The guy is—“
“Right here,” he says deeply.
He has Alissa.
“Put the gun down,” he tells her. “Stand up slowly.”
I see Alissa stand, her hands raised in the air. I can’t see the guy, which means I can’t even try to take a lousy shot at him. And God knows I want to.
“Step out here, baby,” he tells her, his voice low and husky like he’s alone with her. It occurs to me that that might be on his mind. I will not survive this while Alissa might, but to what end? With what purpose? His tone certainly brings one to mind.
I will kill him.
“Now tell your boyfriend to do the same.”
“Alright,” Alissa replies calmly, “but what about my dad?”
There’s a pause. A hesitation.
“Where’s your dad?” he finally asks, his tone becoming hard.
His answer is a shotgun blast.
I hear a body hit the floor. There’s no moaning this time. There’s no complaining about the wounds or yelling at his partner to help him. All I hear is the rapid breathing of the woman hiding in the lane beside Ali and the quiet weeping of the boy over his mother.
“I’ve never killed a woman,” Syd says calmly from the front door, “but it doesn’t mean I won’t. Toss your gun into the aisle and stand up slowly. Walk out the opposite direction of your gun.”
There’s no hesitation. I hear the skitter of the gun flying across the linoleum into the aisle.
“Al, you wanna get that for me? Jordan, stand up and help me show her the door, will you?”
I stand just as the woman does. Her wide eyes stare at me for a moment, full of terror. I don’t feel bad for her. We both make our way slowly out of our lanes then head toward Syd where he stands at the door with his shotgun leveled at the woman’s midsection. I make sure to step to the side of her so I’m not in his line of fire.
Syd flickers his eyes to me briefly. “Which one killed the boy’s mother?”
The woman stiffens, halting in her steps toward him.
“The guy did.”
“Did this one take a shot at Al?”
“Let her go,” Alissa says from beside me.
Her face is pure white. Her eyes are unfocused and full to nearly bursting with unshed tears. I hurriedly holster my gun so I can take her elbows i
n my hands.
“Ali, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she replies numbly. Her eyes are looking at me but I can tell she’s seeing through me. She’s checking out.
“Syd,” I say firmly. We need to end this thing with the woman and deal with Alissa. Something’s wrong here.
“Go,” he says darkly to the woman.
I hear her footsteps running clumsily through the store and out the door. It’s only seconds later that the sound of a motorcycle roars in the parking lot. It peels out then begins to fade away into the distance.
“Al?” Syd asks, standing behind me. He must see her face because he swears softly. “Jordan, get her out of here. I’ll talk to the kid.”
“What’s happened? What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s still standing right here,” Alissa mumbles, slurring slightly. Her eyes are still eerily unfixed.
“Yeah, barely,” Syd tells her.
She blinks several times before turning her eyes to him with a weak glare.
Syd grins. “There you are.”
“What’s happening?” I repeat, feeling useless.
“Just get her out of here. Take her to the RV and let her lay down.”
I move to stand beside her, wrapping my arm around her waist. She lets me lead her gently through the store and out the door into the too bright sunlight. She’s silent as we walk to the RV, as I open the door and help her step inside. She doesn’t say a word as she slumps down onto a seat and continues to stare with empty eyes in the middle distance.
I have no clue what to do here. I don’t know if I should try to talk to her, to pull her out of it, to piss her of like Syd did. If she was a guy I might slap her in the face to try to bring her around but I don’t have the stomach to do that to her. I’m also pretty sure all it’d get me is a punch in the gut from her or Syd or both.
“My mo—“ she stops herself abruptly. I look over to see the tears leak from her eyes down her cheeks.
“Ali, it’s alright,” I tell her stupidly.
“The way my mom died,” she whispers. “The way Dee died.”
I frown. “Dee your roommate? The one who was infected?”