Chris remembered that silence was his best friend as he stared at the eight rotting mannequins. There weren’t going to be any problems getting around them since the circle driveway is about 100 feet wide and four of them are close together.
There were distant sounds of gunfire and of men and women screaming. “I guess the sounds aren’t loud enough to trigger my friends here. Okay, I’m comin’ home, Sarah.”
Chris quietly walked through the large space between the goons and saw the devastation around him. Battered cars, a pickup truck and a news van were destroyed, an overturned Metro bus that had hit a fire hydrant. The hydrant shot water in the air like a geyser and rained down on the bus. Some of the buildings in and around the Medical Center had fires and smoke emanating from their busted-out windows. The sunlight showed all the plumes of smoke coming from several areas and revealed the dead-heads covering the streets. He knew this was his new world and knew he’d have to accept it and learn to adapt to it. He sloughed a couple tears and looked up at the street signs.
“Holcombe and Fannin. Alright, I can go right on Holcombe and that’ll run into 288.”
He started down Holcombe Boulevard looking for a vehicle that wasn’t flipped, burned or wrecked and it seemed few and far between that he was going to find one.
About an hour later, Chris approached North MacGregor. There was a Toyota pickup truck sitting alone in the parking lot of a clinic. The driver’s window was busted out and screwdriver was stuck in the ignition. He thought this might get him in trouble as there were about 14 juicy Houstonians standing in the parking lot. “What if it doesn’t crank the first time and I wake these fools up? The window’s busted, so they could easily reach me.” Chris declined on the attempt and continued through the intersection.
About a block down, he spotted a complex of two-story townhouses. “I know I can find a car there.” He thought. He walked down the concrete alleyway of grey and white townhomes and saw a garage door open on the third building down. He approached the garage and found a black Chevy Z71 truck and a black Prius. “Hey, those Prius’ are really quiet. I can sneak around in that!” He got closer. The driver’s door was open and inviting Chris to steal her. As he walked into the garage, there was a stench. He knew what that meant. Chris pulled the pistol out of his waistband. He looked around the truck and saw the open door going into the townhome. He looked between the Prius and the Chevy and saw a lady buckled in the passenger seat of the Prius and she looked deader than Elvis. That was enough persuasion for Chris to take the truck. He walked around the truck and pulled the handle and the truck was locked. “Aww, jeez. I gotta go in the house!”
He figured the husband wasn’t too far away and was probably patiently listening for a noise to wake him up. Chris entered the townhouse. The smell was present but not as bad as the garage. He walked through the kitchen. There was a wooden carving of the word KEYS with little gold hooks at the bottom of each letter by the doorway, but no keys. He walked into the dining area and no keys were on the table. Chris saw the downstairs bathroom door slightly ajar. He eased the door open with his foot and pointed the pistol at the door. No bad guys and no keys.
“I must be getting closer to him because the smell is getting worse.” Chris walked into the living room and found a note on the coffee table.
“If anyone finds this, my wife was sick and we tried going to the hospital and the Army made us come back home. She bit me in the car and I think I’m turning into one of those people so I’m going to kill myself. I can’t live without Tammy and I can’t turn into one of those things!
If my children are okay, they can have everything.”
“That’s sad and that’s the smell.” He headed upstairs and found the headless husband in the bedroom still clutching a 12-gauge shotgun. He was bloated and covered in flies and maggots. Chris spotted the Chevy keys on the nightstand by the man’s body. He tucked the pistol back into his waistband and pulled his collar over his nose. Chris grabbed the keys and went back to the garage.
He accidently pressed the lock button and the truck’s horn honked *BOMP!* The wife came alive in the Prius. She was reaching and clawing with both arms pointed at him. “Thank God she’s too stupid to figure out how to unbuckle the seat belt. Chris looked out of the garage and saw about six people converging on the garage. He pressed the unlock button and hopped in the truck. He started the engine and the exhaust pipes yelled a loud *WOB*WOB*WOB*WOB*
“Oh hell, this truck’s gonna be a rollin’ alarm clock. Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.” He said. He rolled out of the garage hitting a zombie and turned onto Holcombe.
No comments:
Post a Comment