Dying Days (11 page)

Darlene was about to do a thorough search of the room when she heard something slam against one of the vehicles outside. She knew it was time to find a safe haven.

Upstairs, past gore and the stench of death, a utility closet with an intact door was her best bet. She tried her best to jam a broom handle against the door knob and put her back to the farthest wall. A small window told her she had a long wait until night fall, but she didn’t care. She needed sleep and she needed to gather her strength. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

*   *   *   *   *

A residential area netted Darlene quiet a catch: two apple trees, an orange tree and a working well with an old-fashioned hand pump. Despite the impending cold the fruit was still edible. It was a bit of a distance, but she’d been lucky enough to not run into too many of the undead in the two months she’d been living in the library.

The front doors had been sealed, the windows boarded up, and the back parking lot’s gate mended enough to keep the undead out but still allow her to slip in and out. From the roof of the building, she could see all around her, and from there plan her next moves.

The highway she’d come in from was teeming with zombies, and in all directions she could see roaming packs of them. Fires and occasional explosions surrounded her, but she’d not seen another living person in weeks.

Settling into her hard wooden chair on the roof, she snuggled with two wool blankets and bit into an apple. The sun was dropping, and it was already cold. Baltimore didn’t get as cold as Maine, but it was still going to be a bitter winter. Eventually she’d have to start a fire to keep warm and hope it wouldn’t attract the undead or the living.

“Where am I going and what am I doing?” she whispered, tossing the apple in her hand. She didn’t want to stay here through the winter, but now realized she should have done something about it weeks ago. It was just easier to stay where she was, in the relative safety of her library-fortress, and hope the world would go back to normal.

Darlene had been running for so long she was growing restless. She missed her home and she missed her father. At the thought of him, once again seeing him as he was before she pulled the trigger of the Desert Eagle, she started to cry. She knew Maine held nothing for her anymore, yet she longed to be there. By now her home had been ransacked and destroyed, her hometown of Dexter in ruins and aflame like here, but she didn’t care. She needed to be somewhere, anywhere, but here. She knew how silly it sounded, and unrealistic.

The wind kicked up and she decided to go back inside.

*   *   *   *   *

The first flurries arrived a week later, while Darlene was raiding a diner, fighting the cockroaches for scraps of food. She’d found cans of tomato paste as well as two industrial cans of coffee.

It was while she was leaving through the hole that she’d entered through that she saw the movement across the street. She ducked down and peeked over the jagged edge, expecting to see a dozen zombies shambling towards her. Instead she saw a living, breathing person disappear into the darkness of the automotive store.

Snow fell on her face and hands, steaming away as she moved quietly across the desolate street. A quick check in both directions for zombies and then she was at the door, staring into the gloom.

She listened for any small noise to see where he’d gone but heard nothing. He was good, and that was probably why he was still alive. Eventually, her eyes adjusted and she was glad, because directly in front of her the floor had collapsed. She skirted to her left and followed around behind the counter, which had been picked clean.

Very rarely did she find anything of value anymore. The few survivors usually grabbed anything not bolted down, and unbolted what they could as well. At one point the store had been on fire, and the acrid smell still lingered in the cold air.

Darlene moved through the store with ease, noting the path she followed. It was well-worn and recent. This guy is smart. He has an escape route through this building, so he probably lives nearby.

The door to the back room was ajar and Darlene peered inside. The walls had been blown out and opened to the sky. She could see the snow had increased in the few minutes she’d been inside. It was still too warm to stick, but it would be soon enough.

Behind the store was a parking lot similar to the one at the library. The gates had been reinforced with car husks and a pile of office furniture, the surrounding buildings natural barriers.

There was only one door still intact and that was to the movie theatre in front of her. She went to the door and tried it, but it was locked. She smiled. The undead didn’t try to turn knobs, yet she did the same thing and locked up behind her.

The snow was falling and her fingers were getting numb. She needed to get back to the library soon. The sun would be going down soon and she didn’t want to cross town in the dark with so many undead still roaming.

She decided to do something unique before she left. A search of the auto store produced a broken pencil and a sheet of charred paper in a desk. She wrote down her name and the address of the building across the street from the library and slid the note under the locked door.

*   *   *   *   *

Even at the end of the world there were chores to be done. Darlene, wrapped in layers of warm clothing, shoveled snow off the roof of the library.

Without benefit of the news or the Weather Channel, the blizzard had struck without warning overnight, dumping almost a foot of snow on the ground. It was still snowing, but Darlene needed something to do and wanted to clear her lookout spot off on the roof.

She was glad she did, because there was someone standing across the street watching her. And he was alive.

Figuring the noise she was making tossing snow off the roof had given away her position, she waved.

He waved back and moved across the street toward her.

Darlene knew it was a male because of the way he walked. He stood just under her on the front steps, boots hidden in the snowdrift.

“Hello up there.”

Darlene smiled. “Hello down there.”

“Wondering if I can borrow a cup of sugar?”

Now she was laughing. “Sorry, I’m all out. Did you try the grocery store on the next corner?”

“Yes, but, unfortunately, the owners were pretty mean. In fact, they tried to bite me.”

“Customer service.” Darlene smacked her gloved hands together. “I’m Darlene.”

“Pierce.”

“Seriously? That’s not a real name.”

He laughed and put his hand on his jacket over his heart. “I swear my parents named me that.”

“I’ll need to see a driver’s license.” Despite the playful bantering, she was being cautious and only half-joking. She was also getting very cold up here on the roof.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He made a dramatic show of rifling through it before producing his license and holding it up. ‘See?”

“Not from here.” Darlene hesitated. She’d been fooled before, like when she was passing through Connecticut and that militia group held her captive.

She was lonely for some companionship, someone who she could have an intelligent conversation with. If she wanted to be brutally honest, she was sick of playing with herself and a real, live cock might be good for her, too. Darlene laughed out loud at the images that flooded her mind.

“Is something funny up there?”

Darlene put the shovel over her shoulder. “Can you climb?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Why?”

“Because the only way in is getting over the fence in the parking lot, and then I’ll have to unlock the back door. Think you can handle that?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Now come back tomorrow and bring some food and water with you.”

He threw his hands in the air in mock anger. “What? It’s cold outside. By tomorrow it will be colder, with eight feet of snow.”

“Then make sure you bring back some hot food.”

“Would Buffalo wings suffice, my Lady of the Snowdrifts?”

“Make sure you bring plenty of celery and Ranch dressing,” Darlene called down.

*   *   *   *   *

Pierce brought stale Pringles sour cream and onion chips, a six-pack of spring water, and a box of white rice. They ate, sharing small talk and keeping away from the Big Conversation, the elephant in the corner that was their situation.

When he suddenly leaned over and kissed her, she responded in kind, and took his hand to her breast. In moments, they were tearing at each other, clothes flying and their bodies responding. Darlene didn’t know or care how long it had been for him, but she knew it had been too long since she’d had consensual sex.

Consensual sex? How abut being raped by the redneck militia, Darlene thought and quickly regretted it.

“Is something wrong? Is this too fast?” Pierce asked, pulling away from her and genuinely looking worried.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Darlene said.

Pierce smiled. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Darlene had to laugh. “That did sound bad. No, I’ve just gone through some pretty bad shit lately.”

“I imagine most people have. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“I’ll be fine, just a brain-fart.” Darlene kissed him softly on the lips. He was a good-looking guy, maintaining his personal hygiene with a shaved face, fingernails trimmed, and the hint of shampoo in his groomed hair. “How about you? Anything bad happen to you lately?”

“Besides people trying to eat me? Nah.” Pierce looked around from their vantage point on a couch above the main floor of the library. “You’ve got a nice place here. Read a lot?”

“Really?”
       “No.” She laughed.
       “Got any good porn?”
       “Some erotica titles I found, but they get me too worked up.” Darlene liked him. She didn’t care about the future or anything else. Like Bob Seger said,’ we got tonight, who needs tomorrow?’ Or something like that.
       “I could read to you,” Pierce said and grinned. “Where are they hidden?”
       “I’m by myself, why would I hide them?” she said but couldn’t stop smiling. “They’re hidden next to the makeshift bed.”
       “Exactly. You always hide your porn. If I was the last man on earth I’d still hide my
Playboys
.”
       “
Playboy?
I’ve got erotica in my room, some choice sex writing.”
       “Nice. Mind if I see for myself?”
       “Are you trying to get into my room?” Darlene said and stood, taking his hand.
       “I’m actually trying to get in your pants, but we’ll start with the room.”
                                         *   *   *   *   *
       Darlene woke with the window breaking and reached for her Desert Eagle.
       It was dark and frigid cold. Her knees popped. She felt sluggish, but forced herself to move. Pierce, who’d finally relented and moved into the library fortress two weeks ago, was still sleeping.
       Outside the converted bedroom, standing at the top of the stairs, Darlene saw her breath in white plumes but nothing else.
Maybe I was dreaming?
       Despite wearing three layers of clothing, two pairs of heavy socks and a woolen hat, she was freezing. Glancing at one of the large overhead windows, she saw nothing. No stars. She hoped it wasn’t snowing again.
       Stepping quietly down the stairs, she surveyed the room. They’d recently piled up most of the desks, chairs and miscellaneous furniture against the front doors, blocking off the lobby. In the center of the room now stood two comfortable chairs, two stacks of books to read, and a single desk between them. At the time, they’d joked that it was something to do besides complain about the cold, lack of food, and having sex. Of course, right after, they’d had sex.
       Now, she could see something lighter than the shadows glittering to her far right. She panicked and almost pulled the trigger before realizing it was falling snow.
       “Shit,” she whispered. She went back and woke Pierce. “We have a problem.”
       “Damn it’s cold.”
       “That’s the problem.” Darlene led him to the main room and they went down the stairs, eyes roaming the darkness. Pierce had a weapon of his own: a machete which he took great pride in oiling and keeping sharp.
       “Snow,” he muttered.
       “No shit,” she said playfully. One of the ceiling windows, which in better times added character to the room, now littered their feet in a million shards. A steady plummet of snowflakes fell through the gaping hole.
       “You’re shaking,” Pierce said and put his arms around her. She was shivering, her breath hanging in front of her face. “Your teeth are chattering. It’s really annoying, that sound.”
       “You know what’s really annoying?”
       Pierce kissed her cold ear and she shuddered, half from the cold and half from his touch. “Tell me.”
       “That we didn’t meet under better conditions.”
       “What could be better than this? Literally freezing to death, snow threatening to bury us, zombies trying to chew on my man-junk like a toy… oh, and we’re starving.”
       “You have such a way of making me forget our problems.” Darlene snuggled close to him. “That was sarcasm, by the way.”
       “We need to build a fire. Thirty blankets aren’t cutting it anymore, especially tonight. We’ll be frozen by morning with this new problem.”
       “No fire.” Darlene felt her fingers tingling and knew frostbite was a very real threat. “That will only alert the living and the dead where we are.”
       “The living wouldn’t be a problem. Strength in numbers, I say. There might be people a block away from us that need help or can help us get out of here and move south.” Pierce rubbed his exposed cheeks. “If we don’t light a fire, we’ll die. It’s as simple as that.”
       “Fuck.” Darlene looked up at the gaping hole in the ceiling again. As if in response to her worries, a large piece of glass crashed down, the fresh pile of snow on the floor cushioning the sound. “Let’s pile up some books, but we need to find a spot where the smoke isn’t seen for miles and it doesn’t choke us to death, either.”
       “Not a problem. I’ll get some kindling.” Pierce smiled. “Would you prefer we start by burning children’s books or reference books?”
       “Anything with a zombie in it. I’ve had enough of them for a lifetime.”
       “I’ll see what I can do. I guess we’ll need the piles of blankets and clothes down here with us. Do you mind?”
       “No.” Darlene kissed him lightly on his cold cheek. “We’re going to run out of food and drink soon.”
       Pierce put his head down. “How many days do you think we have?”
       “If we eat conservatively we have about two weeks. The problem is the places closest to us have been picked clean.”
       “I say we leave tomorrow for the south. I hear Florida is nice this time of year,” Pierce said.
       “I need to get back to Maine.”
       “I’m thinking if Baltimore has a foot of snow right now, Maine has eight. You’ll never make it.”
      
And there it was
, Darlene thought. He didn’t say ‘we’ll never make it’. She was a fling, an escape for a few weeks or months, a quick fuck until something better came along. Even at the end of the world, Darlene was being screwed over by some guy she’d just met.
Stupid, stupid.
       Pierce turned away and began gathering books.