Still Dying: Select Scenes From Dying Days

by Armand Rosamilia

  His mother was probably out right now collecting food instead of being safely home. At least he hoped she was. She hadn't been seen since the beginning of all this, although Morris made sure to leave her a note on the fridge before they left each time, letting her know where they'd be and when he'd be home.

  Of course, they'd have to either weed out the crap they weren't going to eat and use the space for more comic books and cards, or go with the plan to find a bigger place.

  "What about a hotel?" Morris asked.

  "What about a hotel?" Daniel repeated, which he did way too often to Morris. His friend would often yell at him for repeating a question with the same question.

  "We find a nice hotel, secure it, and fill the rooms with our collections."

  Daniel stared dumbly at his partner for a second before smiling. "That sounds cool."

  "Think about it," Morris said as he pulled Justice League comic books from the boxes and put them on the table, "we each get a floor or two. We clear out all the furniture, put tables up, and pile our collections like in a store. I'd have an entire room for just Fantastic Four comics."

  "I could build shelves for the 5,000-count boxes and then put the completed sets in the middle of the rooms. Maybe each year gets its own room," Daniel said excitedly.

  "A big hotel has to have tables for us to use. I wonder how many comic books I can fit inside a standard hotel room."

  "We'd need to move an awful lot of beds and dressers and chairs."

  "We toss them out the window," Morris said.

  "Like rock stars."

  "Exactly." Morris closed the box once he'd fit a group of Mighty Thor comic books into it and carried it to the car. "We don't have to worry about having too many books and cards. We can fill thousands of square feet and also have our own rooms and a full kitchen as well."

  "And a swimming pool."

  "Do you know how to swim?"

  "Of course. Do you?" Daniel asked.

  Morris put the box in the car and figured they had room for another eight. "Let's get this done and get back home."

  * * * * *

  They found the hotel, six stories, just outside of town and adjacent to the main highway. The area around it was rubble, burning buildings and torched cars.

  "Perfect," Morris said when they pulled into the parking lot. "It has a fence around it. We just need to close the gate and make sure there aren't any breaches."

  "We'll build a moat if we have to," Daniel happily chimed in.

  Morris wanted to punch him but instead pulled up his eyeglasses and rubbed his eyes. "Grab your shotgun."

  "I hope we don't have to use them."

  "We've been lucky the last three weeks, haven't we?"

  Since finding the Fantastic Four #5 they'd had a string of fortune. Six more comic book stores were found and cleaned out, but the apartment was now overflowing with boxes.

  Daniel had kicked in Miss Stansky's door across the hall and they were using her living room and kitchen for storage.

  Two days ago, while searching for Coliseum Comics, they'd passed this hotel. It was only a two hour drive from the apartment and they could make several trips a day until everything was brought here. What else did they have to do?

  Right now the car was loaded with food and bottled water, the front seat between them stacked with enough ammo to kill a small army.

  "You ready?" Morris asked and Daniel nodded.

  "You think they have arcade games or a hot tub?"

  "There's no power, genius. How will you run them?" Morris said with disgust. "We're not here to sunbathe, get high score on Ms. Pac-man or order room service. We're here to save the last great comic book collection in the world."

  "And sports cards."

  "Whatever." Morris got out and put the shotgun on his shoulder.

  They approached the main entrance but slowed when they were thirty feet away.

  "The doors are open," Daniel said.

  No kidding, Morris thought. Nothing gets past you, doofus. "I see that."

  "What do we do now?"

  "We give up and go home," Morris said sarcastically, but it was lost on Daniel.

  "Really? Alright."

  "No, you… no, we go inside and make sure it's safe."

  "What if it isn't?"

  "Then we make it safe," Morris said and tapped the shotgun for emphasis.

  "I don't want to use it."

  "You will eventually have no choice. It's either shoot them or they eat you, or do worse."

  "Worse?"

  Morris shook his head. "Weren't you watching the same news I was watching? Those things were raping people."

  Daniel just shook his head and stared down at his clammy hands. The shotgun was slick with his sweat.

  "Let's move before it gets too late. We need to make at least one more trip today before it gets too dark." Morris took a step and stopped. "Did you hear that?"

  The first three zombies appeared in the doorway of the hotel. They were followed by another four.

  Morris backed up and fired, watching as one of the zombie's heads exploded. "Back to the station wagon."

  "Are we leaving?" Daniel asked, hope clearly in his voice.

  "No, we need the rest of the ammo."

  Another seven zombies stepped into the parking lot from the lobby and shuffled toward the pair, dozens and dozens clamoring inside to get to them.

  Tosha Shorb

  She heard them talking about her but didn't really care. She'd heard it all since showing up at the Gate of Lions and demanding entrance.

  Her commanding officer, David Monsour, was busy explaining what was expected of her once she left the safety of St. Augustine. That included not getting bitten, not getting raped and not attracting attention.

  He looked at Tosha and grinned. "I heard you held your own at Scarlet's bar last night."

  "Just a guy with too many hands. He won't be grabbing asses with a broken finger," she said and smiled. She was a slight thing, with flowing curly strawberry blonde hair down past her shoulders, bright green eyes and freckled pale skin. A couple of inches above five foot, she weighed a hundred and a quarter and was curvy. Tosha knew she was attractive, and as one of the new women in the camp, she was constantly watched by the men. And the women.

  After last night she didn't suppose many would be as forward as that drunken idiot. Still, they kept staring. She knew that wearing her comfy black boots, tight blue jeans that accentuated her tight ass and her ever-present concert T-shirt (her favorite band, Lizzy Borden, a theatrical Heavy Metal group from Los Angeles) wasn't fair, but she didn't care.

  "One more thing," Monsour said. "How old are you?"

  Tosha laughed. She was twenty-seven but looked much younger, which was also a problem around these horny guys. The guy last night had tried to be cute by remarking that they didn't allow teens in the bar drinking. She looked seventeen and knew it was a turn-on for most guys.

  When she told him her age he raised an eyebrow.

  "Do you want to see my ID, officer?" she said with a laugh.

  "Actually, I do." David held out his hand.

  "Seriously?"

  "You brought it up."

  She fished her driver's license - one of the few items she still possessed - and handed it over. "Was I speeding, officer?"

  David laughed and stared at her ID. "Hershey, Pennsylvania? What are you doing in Florida?"

  "Trying not to get fucked by zombies. How about you?"

  "About the same."

  "I traveled all over the world."

  "For what? As a tourist?" he asked.

  Tosha laughed and pointed at her shirt. "I followed the band."

  "They like the Grateful Dead?"

  "No." Tosha smiled. "They're good."

  * * * * *

  "On my signal," she whispered to the two men flanking her. She knew they were pissed at having to take orders from her, especially someone who looked like their teenage daughter and dressed like a stripper at ti
mes. She loved the attention and played it up, licking her lips when the bald one, Bobby, glanced at her chest.

  "See something nice, Bobby?" she purred. She snickered when he looked away. She turned to his partner, Jimmy, and pointed at a burning car in the road. "I'm going to run to that spot and I want you to cover me, but don't shoot unless they see me and I don't see them. No use having a dozen of these fuckers on my ass."

  For emphasis Tosha stood and patted her rounded butt, grinning in satisfaction when both men looked away. God, she loved being a tease.

  Jimmy cleared his throat. "We'd best get this done and over with. I'm getting thirsty."

  "Then stop talking and follow my lead," Tosha snapped. She wanted to smile when they both winced at her attitude. She actually had nothing against either of them, but she was getting bored with this sneaking around shit and wanted to shoot something in the head.

  Bobby started to wander away. Simpletons, Tosha thought. "Before you walk off and get yourself killed, we need to stick to the plan."

  Both men nodded.

  "I'm thirsty, too. There's nothing better than cashing in after a completed mission, getting something to barter for a cold beer. I plan on finishing this and putting my sexy ass on a barstool."

  Both men nodded again and this time smiled.

  She figured they were picturing her ass on the chair, pushed out and thong showing. Simpletons. "Focus, boys."

  The Lion's Bridge heading into the rest of St. Augustine was barricaded, but it was easy to climb around using the catwalk. They were still in sight of the bridge and could see the multitude of construction signs placed a half mile up the road to signify the furthest point the houses, businesses and cars had been picked clean of supplies, fuel and weapons.

  New survivors had told of a caravan of cars, laden with supplies, that got stalled on Route 16 heading west just past the river. Tosha and her men were assigned the simple task of seeing if it still existed and how many it would take to bring it back.

  They skirted from torched cars to the sides of abandoned buildings in a serpentine pattern as they moved. It wasn't just the zombies they had to contend with out here.

  Groups of roving looters still haunted the side streets, looking for food and wanting to kill anyone they came in contact with and take what they had instead of playing nice.

  Tosha had seen enough of these animals in her journey, and wondered how she was still alive and how she hadn't been raped. She tapped her pistol at her side and shook her machete. This is how I didn't die, she thought.

  Each building they passed had a spray-painted X on the door.

  "What's that for?" Jimmy asked.

  "Ever heard of Moses and Egypt?" Tosha asked him.

  Jimmy looked confused as they ran across the street to avoid a flaming car. "Yeah, I guess."

  "Lamb blood painted door, I shall pass," Tosha sang.

  "What does that mean?" Jimmy asked, dropping next to her before they ran across a long, empty stretch of highway.

  "Nothing. It just reminds me of a Metallica lyric."

  Bobby laughed. "Dummy, the places we've already stripped clean get a mark so we don't waste time hitting them again."

  Jimmy looked at Tosha. "Were you making fun of me?"

  Tosha grinned. "No, I was reciting a line from the song Creeping Death." She stood and looked down the road. A strip mall to their left was nothing more than a pile of rubble. Past that and as far as the eye could see to the right were woods.

  "I don't see anything matching the description." Jimmy wiped the sweat off his brow.

  "It might be further than we thought," Bobby said.

  "Or it's already gone." Tosha shook her head. "Let's jog up as far as that next bend in the road, and if we don't see it, we call this a bust."

  They stuck to the middle of the road, weapons drawn, the men trying to keep up with Tosha as she moved.

  She'd gotten almost thirty feet ahead when she suddenly veered off to her left into the trees. Bobby and Jimmy wisely followed her.

  "I see the van up ahead, but it's wide open."

  "Shit." Jimmy said.

  "One of us is going to scout ahead," Tosha said. She stared at Jimmy.

  When neither man said a word she sighed. "That means one of you." Tosha pointed at Jimmy. "Go find out if there's anything left."

  "Shit," Jimmy repeated but ran off.

  Bobby edged closer to Tosha, who was leaning against a tree and watching both ways down the road. He put a hand on the tree just above her head and smiled.

  She glanced at him and frowned. "You're in my space."

  "Sorry." He didn't move. "I figured, since we had some time to kill…"

  Tosha grinned and put her machete near his groin. "Kill, such a friendly word," she sang in a growl.

  "More lyrics?" he asked and backed up.

  "Yes. Your buddy better return in ten minutes or I'll leave him here. Got it?"

  "Got it." Bobby sat down in the grass. "I'm getting hungry."

  * * * * *

  "Are you serious?" Tosha said, disgusted at Bobby. He was snoring, curled up in the grass. It had been exactly ten minutes since Jimmy had left.

  She pulled her boot back for a swift kick to the head but decided against it. This idiot would only go down there and get lost.

  Tosha skirted the tree-line, running past the van when she saw Jimmy wasn't near it. Where did he go?

  A dirt road led to the right, and a crushed box of spaghetti had exploded there. She moved along, following many footprints and dropped food items. Was he suddenly stupid enough to try this on his own? Unless he thought he'd find a stash for himself, she thought.

  The road ended in a house, door on its hinge and a zombie wandering in the yard.

  Tosha moved slowly but didn't see any movement in the house. It was simple to step up to the zombie, plant her feet and take its head off with a single swing.

  Another zombie stepped out from the house.

  "Now we play," Tosha purred. She stretched her legs and flexed her fingers, hoping there'd be a dozen inside to kill.

  The newest one was quickly dispatched and she ran into the house, ready to sever heads and limbs with abandon.

  Instead, body parts littered the living room.

  She moved down a blood-streaked hallway into the kitchen. A rotting headless zombie was splattered against the refrigerator. Stacks of water and canned food were neatly arranged on the counters.

  Tosha moved from room to room, but they were empty of people, living or otherwise.

  As she turned to leave she heard a low thump from the living room closet.

  Machete in hand, she put her hand on the knob. She wasn't nervous. She was very calm, and another Metallica tune was playing in her head as she yanked open the door.

  "Blood will follow blood…"

  Jimmy, arm bloody, tears running down his dirty face, put his hands up.

  "…Dying time is here…"

  Tosha, on instinct, chopped down and took a chunk of his shoulder with the blade.

  "I'm not bitten," Jimmy screamed.

  "…Damage, Incorporated," she sang and finished him off. If he hadn't been bit he'd be dead soon enough.

  Tosha found some blankets in the bedroom, covered the supplies, propped up the front door as best as she could, and carved an X in the door.

  When she got back to Bobby she sighed. He was still sleeping.

  "Wake up, dumb-ass," she said and kicked him.

  Bobby rolled over, rubbing his eyes. "Where's Jimmy?"

  "Dead."

  "What?"

  "He's gone. Zombies got him. We need to head back, I need a beer."

  "Any food?"

  Tosha cleaned the machete blade on the grass, aware he was staring at her ass again. "Nothing."

  The Conner Family

  Amanda Conner smiled at her husband, hoping he didn't notice her shaking hands on the steering wheel of the Dodge Ram. She glanced in the rearview mirror. "Kids are finally asleep."
>
  Brian nodded, staring out the mud-streaked window and gripping the shotgun.

  "It'll be dark soon," she said. "We should find a place to stop so the kids can sleep properly. Catherine always gets that cramp in her neck when she passes out in the car."

  He nodded again and leaned forward, eyes squinting. "Stop."

  She slid the car to the side of the dirt road and went to put the headlights on, but Brian put his hand gently on hers. "Leave them off. No use in giving our position away. And we don't need them yet."

  Amanda knew he was right. Ever since before all of this happened, he'd always been right about the apocalypse. The neighbors had laughed at him, spending his weekends adding steel plates and bullet-proof windows to this old pickup truck, buying the most expensive and damage-proof wheels he could find.

  While the neighbors threw barbeques and mowed their lawns, Brian worked from Friday evening when he came home from work until Sunday night when he went to bed, getting the truck prepared, supplied, and the family outfitted for the coming war.

  Brian slid out of the passenger side without a sound. Amanda knew his military training was kicking in, tours of Iraq and Afghanistan hardening him into a soldier. He never spoke of those months but he'd come back changed. On the surface he was still the loving, God-fearing man she'd fallen in love with ten years ago, but she could see the darkness behind his eyes. He'd seen something, knew something, that wasn't right.

  Now, while their neighbors and friends were dead - or worse - Brian was in control, guiding them and the kids safely out of Fort Knox, Kentucky.

  Amanda thought running away from Fort Knox was ironic. Wasn't it supposedly the safest, most secure place in the world? Brian laughed as well, but told her they needed to get as far away from a big city as possible. Besides, Fort Knox itself wasn't going to let just anyone in there.

  Aiden, her little one at only a year old, shuffled in his car seat. She turned and smiled at all three of her children, all snoring softly. Bradley, a year older than Aiden, snuggled his blanket in his Big Boy Chair, refusing to sit in a baby seat even though the law said otherwise.