Chapter Three

The front door of the store has been barricaded with an empty shelf turned on its side, but the window has been broken out, probably by vandals some time ago. Aaron is the first to climb up and over the shattered glass, and he bends down to help lift me into the store. A shard of glass jutting out of the window frame snags my shirt sleeve and it tears, but thankfully it doesn’t break the skin. The thump of my boots echoes in the empty store as I drop down from the window sill, landing in a crouch.

The other two soldiers climb into the store after me, and they quickly draw their guns and spread out, trying to make this place as secure as possible. Aaron nudges me in one direction, and I quickly grab two red handheld baskets from a stack near the window, before following him down a nearby aisle. Like many stores in such a large city, there isn’t much left in any one place. A lot of the remaining merchandise is scattered around the floor or turned on its side on its shelf, having been overlooked during the first couple weeks of the zombie apocalypse.

Aaron holds up a can of horseradish sauce and grimaces before setting it back down on the shelf. We don’t have room to carry back any condiments that we don’t have much use for. Things like horseradish, relish, or honey mustard sauce aren’t a necessity and can’t keep someone nourished and alive. Aaron climbs up the shelf to look at the top row, and he comes back down with three dented cans of baked beans that somebody missed. He drops them into my basket with a smile.

“There’s still plenty of food left here; we just have to keep looking.” Aaron turns and heads down the aisle, keeping on the lookout for more food, as well as for whatever hidden dangers may be lurking around the nearest corner. My handgun is tucked safely away in the front of my jeans—with the safety on—where I can reach it in a hurry if necessary. I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to shoot since I haven’t gotten any real practice, but just knowing the gun is there for my own protection makes me feel better.

Aaron gets ahead of me, and I quicken my pace so I don’t fall behind. We take another turn and we find ourselves in a more untouched aisle of the store. There are various cans scattered around the floor between the two shelves, and we immediately begin sorting through them. “I can’t believe there’s so much still here,” Aaron says breathlessly. “We’ve never been this lucky before!”

“How did nobody take this stuff before now?”

Aaron shrugs as he dumps a handful of fruit cocktail into one of the red baskets. “Maybe the place got overrun before it could happen. Maybe someone that worked here barricaded the door and didn’t let anyone in and planned to survive in here alone. I don’t know, and to be honest, I don’t really care. This food is gonna go a long way, I bet.”

He’s trying to stay positive, but it does no good. He and I both know that despite the presence of about forty cans of food, it won’t go as far as he hopes. There are simply too many people waiting for us back at the school. This food—even rationed—won’t give everyone a full meal. If this is all we find today, we’re still going to be in trouble, and we’ll have to go back to the school as failures.

Once we make sure every can in sight has been added to the baskets, Aaron and I move on to another section of the store. As we pass down another aisle, I notice one of the soldiers in our group. He’s perched on top of a shelf, and he’s scanning the area around us, looking to make sure nothing surprises us while we scavenge for supplies. He looks very disciplined and serious as he sits there with a gun cradled in his lap. His well-trained eyes take in every inch of the store as if he were a hawk searching for its prey.

Aaron finds a couple cans of Vienna sausages and tosses them into the basket, along with two boxes of chocolate graham crackers, but there isn’t much more left in the store that will be of use to us or the people counting on us back at the school. There are a few jars of salsa and nacho cheese sauce still on the shelf and Aarons squeezes them into the basket with a shrug. “What the hell. Why not?”

“There isn’t much more room,” I say, lifting the heavy baskets. “Forty plus cans weigh more than one would think.”

Aaron sighs and runs a hand nervously through his shaggy hair. “This cannot be all that’s left in the store. It just can’t!” he shouts, kicking a small jar of crushed red pepper flakes. The jar flies down the aisle before shattering against the nearby wall. The sound of glass breaking echoes throughout the silent store and causes a black rat to scurry from its hiding place under an old newspaper.

“Everything will be okay, Aaron,” I say, surprised by his angry outburst. “I don’t think we’re gonna find anything else here. Someone else probably already came through and took what they needed, or what they could carry. Let’s add these to the backpacks and look someplace else. Then we can regroup and head back to the school.”

“But—”

“Aaron, don’t you think everyone will be happy to see what we got? Sure it isn’t much,” I admit quietly, “but it’s more than we had before we left. We have canned fruit and soup. We have something other than powdered eggs, baked beans, and saltine crackers. That’s something to celebrate. Just think about how happy this is going to make everyone.”

He looks over at me and gives me a rueful smile. “You seem oddly optimistic today. What’s gotten into you?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the thought of eating something besides baked beans that’s got me all excited, or maybe I’m just starting to realize that we may be able to survive if we stick together. Or it might just be you.”

“Me?” he asks, taking one of the full red baskets from my hand. “What did I do to make you happy?”

“You’re trying,” I say, crouching down on the ground beside him. My ratty backpack slides down my shoulders, and I unzip it. “You’re one of the few people with the training to possibly ride out this disease, and instead of hiding away in the mountains somewhere with plenty of food and ammo, you’re still here in the city, trying your hardest to take care of others. You’re inspiring.”

He shoves a few of the cans into his matching backpack. “I’m glad somebody thinks I’m inspiring. I sure as hell don’t. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why people look up to me. I’m only twenty-four years old, and I’ve only been in the army for a little more than three years. There are people back at the school who are more qualified than me.”

“But they don’t care about others like you do,” I say, zipping my backpack. “Aaron, you’re doing what’s best for everyone, and you have this whole ‘no man left behind’ attitude that the others don’t. The other soldiers put themselves first, and us survivors don’t like that. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that most of the women at the school wanna have sex with you.”

He chuckles quietly as he slings his backpack over his shoulders. “Yeah, that female vote definitely came in handy.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go find our lookouts and get out of here. I hope the others found more than we did.”

“We found more than I thought we would,” I say, following Aaron back to the front of the store. Our two soldiers are waiting for us by the busted out window, and they don’t look back at us as we approach. Aaron and I are immediately on guard, and I grip my gun in my hands, ready to pull it free from the front of my pants. “What’s going on?” I ask quietly.

One of the soldiers shushes me, and I lean closer to the window as a low, sorrowful moan reaches my ears from somewhere down the road. It’s a horrifying sound that sends shivers down my spine and causes bumps to break out down my arms. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard, and just by looking at the rest of my group, I can tell it’s affecting the others as badly as it is me.

“The street is full of zombies,” Aaron says, peering out the window. “At least thirty of them, and they’re all heading in the same direction. They’re going after something I think,” he says, pulling away from the window.

“Michael and the others?” I ask quietly.

Aaron curses. “It has to be. There’s nothing else on these streets worth going after.”

“What are we doing?” one of the soldiers asks. “If we leave them, they’re dead. If we go after them, we’ll have to fight through a herd of zombies. Think we can do it with just the four of us?”

Aaron chews his lip as precious seconds pass by in total silence. He’s in a rough position right now, and the wrong call can get people killed. He has to examine his choices and consider what he’s willing to risk. He makes up his mind as a shot pops off, echoing down the empty street. “Let’s go!”

The two soldiers whose names I still don’t know hop through the window first, and Aaron helps me up and out safely. “Madison, you don’t have to—”

“I’m going,” I say, sliding the gun out of the waistband of my jeans. “What are we waiting for?”

More shots are firing off every second, giving us a clear direction to go. However, the noise each shot makes is alerting every zombie in the city to our group’s exact location, and many more zombies will be here shortly—ready to feast on our brains. We have to get our other group and get as far away from here as soon as possible.

Aaron grabs my hand and drags me away from the store, and the four of us are off, racing down the sidewalk in an attempt to reach our stranded group members. The shots get closer and closer with each step, and as we round a corner, we found ourselves at an intersection that has been overrun by zombies. There are more than thirty zombies, and they’ve got our four men surrounded in the middle of the street.

One of the soldiers is bleeding from a bite to his shoulder, and it looks like he’s struggling to keep his hand steady as he aims. Even though he’s wounded, he still manages to shoot a zombie in the head every time he pulls the trigger.

Aaron and the other two soldiers in our group take aim at the nearest zombies in an attempt to clear a path to our wounded comrades. This is my first real chance to shoot a gun outside the school, and I hope I do my teacher—Aaron—proud. I lift the gun and try to keep my hands from shaking too badly as I aim at the nearest zombie. Sensing more prey, some of the large group have turned around and are slowly advancing on us.

“Take your time, Madison!”

I take a deep breath to steady myself, and I squeeze the trigger. The bullet lodges in a zombie’s shoulder, but it doesn’t seem to notice, and it doesn’t slow down. It shuffles closer as I take another deep breath and aim again. This time, when I squeeze the trigger, the bullet zips through the zombie’s mouth, exploding part of the back of his head. It crumples to the ground and doesn’t move again.

I look around for my next target, and I spot a red abandoned car parked diagonally in the middle of the road. Sprinting for it, I leap up onto the hood of the car and then to the top, where I can get a better view of all the zombies without being in danger of getting bitten. Aaron follows suit, climbing to the top of a blue jeep with busted out windows.

Half a dozen zombies swarm my car. They press up against the sides and extend their arms toward me. Their fingers brush against the legs of my jeans in an attempt to drag me to the ground so they can dig into me, but I’m not going down without a fight. I bring my leg back and kick the nearest zombie in the head. It snaps back and the zombie falls to the ground. I point the gun down and pull the trigger. Another zombie falls away from the car with a bullet lodged in its forehead.

At this close, I can’t miss, I think as I pull the trigger one more time.

A man screams, and I look up just in time to see one of Michael’s men get swarmed. Still screaming, he disappears under a handful of zombies, and all I can see is spurting blood and handfuls of flesh being torn away from his body and thrust into the mouths of hungry zombies. In seconds the road below him is stained red, and the sight of all that blood is enough to make my stomach roll.

But I don’t have time to be sick.

A zombie’s nails tear through the fabric of my jeans, and I can feel the fleshy meat of his fingertips digging into my ankle. His fingers wrap around my leg and he yanks viciously, knocking me to my back. The air explodes from my lungs as I hit the metal roof of the car, and my legs dangle over the edge as I’m momentarily stunned. I can feel the fingers scrabbling for a place to dig in, and I lash out with my feet instinctively. My foot connects solidly with the zombie’s face, and thick, congealed blood begins to slowly ooze from the broken nose of the zombie with his hands on me.

Two decomposing women take his place, and I scream as they reach for me with their broken hands and missing fingers. An elderly woman with thin, gray hair growls at me, but as she lunges, a shotgun blast takes off half of her face, spinning her away from me and into the closest zombie, giving me time to scurry back to the roof of the car as they fall to the ground in a tangled mess.

Looking around for my rescuer, I find him standing near the trunk of the car. He’s a few years older than me, and is not quite six feet tall. His skin is a natural tan color, and he has a really thin, almost scrawny build. His shaggy black hair is greasy, and it has dark blonde roots, meaning that he’s dyed his hair in the past—probably shortly before the world ended. From my place here on the roof, I can see the chipped black nail polish on his fingers, the black eyeliner that adorns his eyes, and the silver piercing in his eyebrow.

His dark brown eyes meet mine briefly, before he turns away and fires at another zombie. Congealed blood splatters his Aerosmith concert t-shirt, and he wipes it away with a disgusted frown. Before I can shout a warning, another zombie creeps up behind him. He turns just as the zombie lunges, and it drags him down to the ground. While he struggles with his enemy, I get down on one knee, and take aim at the creature’s head.

My hands are trembling wildly, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. While my mystery savior just barely keeps his enemy from sinking its teeth into his face, I squeeze the trigger. The bullet zips into the zombie’s forehead, right between the eyes, causing it to slump forward, crushing my savior. He attempts to remove the zombie from his chest, but his arms aren’t powerful enough, and all he can do is lie there on the ground and wait for someone to rescue him.

I refuse to worry about Aaron, my savior, and the other soldiers while I take out the remaining zombies that surround the car. Worrying will only hamper my ability to hit my target, and I can’t afford to waste bullets; we don’t have the ammunition to spare. When the final zombie drops to the ground with a bullet in its head, I cautiously climb down from the roof of the car to take in the damage around me.

Blood covers every last inch of the road, some of it in puddles, some of it in smears, and some of it in gooey, brainy chunks. Reaching into my pocket, I take out my only remaining magazine—the other two are gone now—and I reload one final time, just in case we’ve missed any of the undead. Better safe than sorry, I think to myself as I tiptoe around the remains of one of Aaron’s soldiers.

His guts spill out over the road, creating a foul stench that has me bent over and retching near the back tires of my car. When I’m sure my stomach is empty, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and I walk over to where my mystery savior is still lying pinned under an unmoving zombie. He looks up at me through narrowed eyes. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Grabbing two fistfuls of the zombie’s ripped and stained shirt, I haul it off of the mystery man with a grunt of effort. I only make it a few steps before my grip falters, and the zombie crashes to the ground, thankfully clear of the mystery man. He draws in a deep lungful of air, and I wonder how hard it was for him to breathe while he was pinned down under that overweight zombie.

“Oh my god! Todd, are you okay?” A girl close to my age runs over and throws her arms around Todd’s neck, hugging him fiercely. She has long black hair, dark skin, and light brown eyes, along with an hourglass body that I would have killed for before the end of the world. She pulls away just long enough to look at him, before pulling him closer and hugging him again.

Todd gently pushes her away, but she doesn’t look worried about being rebuffed. “Yeah, I’m fine, Janelle. Thanks to her,” he says, looking over at me. “Thank you,” he says, although it sounds like it kills him to say it.

He extends his hand to me, and I grip it tightly, pleased to have contact with another survivor. “My name’s Madison Grant.”

“Todd Yates,” he says, giving my hand a firm shake. “And this is Janelle Dunn. We were just passing through, and we heard the shots. It’s been awhile since we’ve met any new survivors, and we thought it would be best to check things out. Strength in numbers and all that.”

“My group and I are always happy to find new survivors. We were actually out here to gather some supplies. We have a few women back at our little fortress that are about to give birth, so we were hoping to find some baby supplies.”

“Fortress?” Janelle’s eyes light up, almost as if I just admitted to having a cure for all of this. “You have someplace safe?”

I nod. “Yeah. We have a fortified school a ways from here. We’ve got a fence that goes all the way around, and we have guard towers around the perimeter with soldiers and snipers on lookout at all times. You’ll be welcome to come back with me and the others.” I look around for those of my group that are still alive, and come up with a grim realization.

Aaron is leaning against the passenger side door of his jeep with a forlorn expression on his face. The only other survivor from both groups is Michael, and he’s staring down at the remains of his three friends and group members with a sad expression on his face. Both he and Aaron are alive, but they look terrible. They’re covered in blood and Aaron is shaking, whether from fear, exhaustion, or anger I’m not sure, but he looks ready to snap or give up.

Five out of eight are dead. How is this going to affect the other survivors back at the school? Will we be able to recover from such devastating losses?

Aaron and Michael find their way over to us, and I perform quick introductions. “Aaron, this is Todd and Janelle—he saved my life during the attack. Todd, Janelle, this is Aaron Monroe, the leader of our small sanctuary.”

Aaron shakes hands with both Todd and Janelle, but he doesn’t look as excited to find new survivors as I am. “How have the two of you managed to survive out here on your own? The zombie population has been steadily rising over the last couple of weeks, and it’s getting more and more dangerous.”

Janelle frowns, and I can see her eyes go a little blank. “It’s only been the two of us for a couple of days. A week ago there were ten of us. We got ambushed in the night when one of our group members fell asleep while on watch duty. Of the ten of us, Todd and I were the only survivors.”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” I say, glancing at Todd. He doesn’t look nearly as sad as she does, and I wonder if he’s only with Janelle out of necessity, or if he actually enjoys her company.