Survival Paranoia (Survival series) (2 page)

As suddenly as Lorna was discovered, the slapping noises cut off and she could hear the sound of their footsteps retreating. The corridor to her left was the secure ward, the right led to the area where
she’d
been kept. While her ward was made up of walls and a solid wooden door but for a sliding window she’d reached through to take the keys from the orderly, the secure ward was more like the ICU of a hospital. It had clear glass walls so those inside could be seen by guards in case they did anything rash, and an automatic door like the ones in supermarkets. Unfortunately, Lorna doubted it was zombie-proof. She strained her ears and at first she heard nothing but the sound of her own heartbeat, like a herd of elephants racing through her head. She took slow, deep breaths until she was under control and listened again.

She was sorry that her hearing had returned to her, as it bro
ught the screams of the dying into sharp focus. They were faint, signaling that whoever was unlucky enough to draw their attention was a good distance away, and yes, that person was in the secure ward. That hadn’t been what she meant when she’d asked God to spare her, but she’d never have a better opportunity than this. She had to get away, and not just from this bathroom. She had to escape the institution entirely… otherwise they’d be back for her once they’d finished off the screamer down the hall.

When the
area was quiet again but for the screaming, which had a pleading tone to it she found hard to ignore, she ducked out of the bathroom and ran. Just around the corner was a hallway that led to the nurse’s station, a break room for the staff, and the drug locker. Beyond that was the triple-locked door that led to freedom. There was nothing worth going back for in the supply closet. She would have to find food and water elsewhere, and she certainly wouldn’t waste time carting bedding with her. She darted into the nurse’s station and through it to the break room. She hit the mother lode there.

It hadn’t dawned on her that she would need to take anything other than a bottle of water or two and maybe a handful of crackers, but she would need something to carry them in. One of the staff members was apparently travelling heavy when the world ended, and there was a backpack there. A student, she mused, as she dumped the papers and textbooks onto the couch and headed for the kitchen area. She found
two bottles of water in the fridge and ignored the sickly sweet scent of food rotting as she grabbed them and stuffed them into the bag. There was a fruit bowl on the counter and she tossed in three ripe bananas and a slightly bruised apple, ignoring the oranges. Sure, they’d stave off hunger, but she hated citrus fruits, and she only had so much room in her bag- why fill it with things she didn’t like?

Next, she turned her attention to the purses. She grabbed five sets of keys- she would commandeer a vehicle from the parking lot to make her way home- a hairbrush, some lip gloss for her chapped lips, and a bag of chocolate candies. It made her smile, having these little supplies on hand. Maybe the brush and lip gloss weren’t practical, but her lips ached and her hair was a gnarled mess. Besides, she could always say it was out of fear of getting one of the knots caught on something while she fled, right?

The screaming was now excruciating, and she fled the building as though her ass end was on fire. She couldn’t handle the sounds any longer, and knew the undead were feasting heartily on the unlucky soul. There was nothing she could do for him or her, but she could use the window opportunity had provided her with and make her own escape. She tore through to the emergency exit and was thankful the power was off. The alarm would have been a dead- haha- giveaway, and she needed all the advantages she could get until she had a weapon at hand.

Lorna didn’t dare risk using one of the key fobs to unlock a vehicle. It would be the quickest way to find one to take, but it would also be the surest way to draw attention. No, she’d have to do it the hard way and test the keys with the vehicles one by one. She sh
ivered in the chill. It was nighttime now, and the air carried the last lingering winter cold with it. The pajamas were a thin cotton material, and they did little to keep the night air from seeping into her skin and freezing her bones. But that didn’t matter, only getting home did. She had all the clothes she would need there, but she was sorry she hadn’t snatched a coat from the lounge. She had to start thinking smarter than this if she was to survive more than a day or two. It was only sheer luck that kept her alive until now. Had that poor person not drawn their attention, she might not have lived at all.

The first vehicle she stumbled across was a newer
model, something shiny and white that stood out like a beacon even in the pale moonlight overhead. She didn’t even try it. If she couldn’t find something better she’d come back to it, but she liked the looks of the rundown pickup in the corner of the lot. Sadly, none of the keys she’d found worked on the truck. She supposed it must have belonged to one of the orderlies and not the nursing staff, which had been made up entirely of women. Figures… they’d be the types who went for that sporty red car on the other side of the lot, or maybe the bright white beacon she’d already rejected.

She was down to her final option now, a station wagon that had seen better days. She had no idea how old it was, but the make and mod
el was one she didn’t recognize… that told her it was pretty damned ancient. She couldn’t believe that ugly brown wagon with the rust spots and dents even ran. It was a manual transmission so God only knew what could go wrong, but it was either that or the white thing. She crossed her fingers and prayed one of the sets of keys would unlock the doors.

A shuffling noise caught her attention, and then another, followed by the sound of a rock being kicked aside. Fear froze her in place, and nausea coated her throat like rotten candy. There were three of them. Three shapes coming her way, and she knew by the walk
that they were zombies. Well,
that
, and the fact that one was missing an arm from the elbow down. They were between her and the white car, so this was her last shot. If she didn’t have the keys, or if the vehicle wouldn’t run, she was screwed. She’d have to go on foot, and that was too dangerous to contemplate right now.

The first few sets of keys didn’t work, and she cursed in her head, all the worst of the words she’d ever heard, as she tried the fourth set. No freaking dice. Sweat slicked her palms now, and Lorna licked her dry lips as she reached for the square-topped key on the final key ring. Her hands shook and the keys jangled lightly, sounding like church bells in the silence of the night.

They were less than ten feet away from her when she dropped the keys, shattering the quiet and drawing their attention.

Lorna was huddled in a ball in the closet of her bedroom. Coming back here had been a bad idea. She should have driven like hell and kept going until the wagon died or she ran out of gas. She wiped her streaming eyes and sniffled as quietly as she could. She hadn’t wanted to let the tears fall, but once her eyes had filled she’d been helpless to hold them back. She was five years old again, wishing for her mommy. It didn’t matter that she was seventeen… missing your mother knows no age.

Th
e twenty mile trip had been fun… in a sick, twisted kind of way. It was like a video game. The zombies in the road were helpless against the old wagon she drove. Older vehicles were definitely the way to go. It was heavier than the sporty little hatchback she’d driven, and it held up to the punishment of slamming into body after body. She’d lucked out. There was even washer fluid in there, enough to clean the blood from the windshield when her vision was obstructed. It was touchy getting from the station wagon into the house, but she had a crowbar she’d found in the back, and when she put them down this time she didn’t throw up. Funny how quickly murder became a way of life…

But the inside of the house, well, that had been a different story. She’d prayed to find it empty, but those hopes were dashed as soon as she locked the porch door behind her and opened the
sliding glass door that led into the living room. She heard the moans and something in her cringed, begging her to flee. Begging her to just get back in the vehicle and drive. Lorna sighed and tightened her grip on the crowbar. This was bound to be ugly, but hey, she could always commit herself back to the institution again… if the world ever got back on track, that was.

The first sounds were coming from the kitchen
, and that seemed strangely apt. After all, zombies were hungry, right? She had stifled a laugh, one that was bound to become hysterical and unending. She bypassed the couch, but then stopped and returned to it, wanting to see what was on the floor and trying not to understand it at the same time. Her father was there, and he was obviously dead. The large barrel flashlight they kept on hand was tossed to the floor beside him, its handle smeared with gore. She knew it was her father, as she recognized his favorite sweatshirt and his baggy black pajama pants. His face was gone, smashed beyond recognition by the flashlight. He’d been beaten to death, that was her first thought, but then she saw the putrefying bite mark on his arm.

She knew what she’d find in the next room and didn’t want to walk through the archway that led to the kitchen
. After a brief internal struggle she forced her feet to move that direction. She was here now, she told herself, and things had to be done. Then when the horror was taken care of, when she’d done her duty to her family as best she could, she could leave. She could grab her shit and just poof out of there. She’d leave a burning husk in her wake. Burying them wasn’t feasible, but a funeral pyre… that had potential.

But first she had to dispatch them, and the thought had made her ill. She meant what she’d thought earlier. They were people once, and people she had known. In her mind, even though they were already dead, it was nothing but murder. She was here to gather her supplies, but first she had to kill what remained of her former life. What a bitch…

Lorna had brushed her bangs back from her face with an impatient hand. She was suddenly angry, desperately angry. Somehow the world had gone to Hell, and now she had to rectify what she could. She was no heroine, after all. She was just a girl who should be finishing her senior year in high school, hanging out with her boyfriend, and picking the college of her dreams. She should be talking on the phone with her friends, planning her next date or trip to the mall. She was supposed to do all the typical teen bullshit, but instead she was fighting for her life in the midst of an honest-to-God zombie apocalypse. How had everything gone so bad so quickly?

She had thought she was prepared for what she would find, but she had never been more wrong in her young life. What she saw would live on in her nightmares for the rest of her
years. She was dead certain of that.

Kyle had been a sweet-natured child. He was only eight, and he was painfully shy. He’d started wearing glasses only a few months ago, and he hated them. He had the endearing habit of pushing them up on the bridge of his nose, a nearly savage gesture, as though he blamed the glasses themselves for his poor vision. His brown hair wasn’t wavy like hers, but thick curls that tended to go their own way. When she’d last seen him he’d been in a pair of pajamas with the feet in them, looking so young her heart had nearly broken.

He didn’t look that way any longer. No, he was a savage creature with blood dripping from his jaws as he gnawed on their mother’s arm. A whimper escaped her, and he looked up at her with dull eyes behind the broken lenses of those hated glasses as he growled in response. He didn’t attempt to charge at her, but he apparently thought she meant to fight him for his meal, and he wasn’t done with it yet.

Lorna drew herself back from the remembrance with a muffled sob. She was surprised to find herself rocking back and forth in an attempt to comfort herself. He was dead now, as dead as
their mother. Her head had been bleeding freely, and Lorna assumed she’d struck it as she fell. The blow had apparently killed her and she hadn’t turned, as she figured the zombies didn’t feast on each other. No, there was still too much food readily available to resort to that new form of cannibalism.

Lorna had been screaming in her head, terrified to let the noise escape her, as she charged. Kyle hadn’t even attempted to stand. He just continued to chew slowly, almost as though he were savoring his kill, as she brought the crowbar down on the top of his skull. She cried as she beat at him, and he was nearly as unrecognizable as their father when she dropped her arms to her heaving sides, panting and out of breath.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to gather her supplies and leave this house of the dead. For tonight, she figured she’d just stay in the closet and pray for sleep. And finally, as light broke over the horizon out the window she couldn’t see, her eyes stayed closed and she slept without dreams.

Lorna drove away from what used to be her home, the glow of the fire she’d started behind her like some hellish beacon in the rearview mirror. It broke her heart knowing that her mother, her father, and her poor baby brother… God, they were burning, burning to nothingness, and it was all
her
doing. Those damnable creatures that converted her family were drawn to the bonfire of her former life like moths to a flame. She could hear them, dozens of them, moaning and groaning, and the sounds reminded her of a crowd watching fireworks on the Fourth of July. All that was missing was the exclamations- “Pretty!” or “Wow, that one was huge!” But of course, zombies don’t talk.

She could even see the sign bearing her last name,
STANTON, followed by the address. The sight of it burning only depressed her more. It was like a symbol of the new world… the Stanton family had gone up in flames. She wiped a tear from her cheek and snapped the rearview mirror off with a vicious twist. It cut her hand open, but it wasn’t deep so she hardly noticed. What was a little bit of physical pain compared to the overwhelming emotional ache this trip home had wrought?

Her bedroom was nearly empty when she’d gone upstairs, and her heart broke for that alone. Gone were her posters, books and photo collages. All that remained was her bed, standing lonely
sentinel on the pale blue rug she’d picked out when she was twelve. For one panic-filled minute, she’d feared all her things had been thrown away, and she wondered why her parents would have done such a thing. Upon further inspection she’d found everything neatly boxed and stacked in a corner in the garage. It was as though they hadn’t even gone through her things. Even her tools and supplies were left alone. Lorna had expected to find all the blades thrown out, but her bug-out bags were untouched.

She’d refused to drink
tap water while living at home… God knew what the military might have added to the drinking water. Her parents had reluctantly stocked cases of generic bottled water for her in the pantry. Those were now in the cargo area of the station wagon, along with every canned good she’d been able to fit into the boxes that once held her prized possessions. What she didn’t want from her former room lay in a heap on the garage floor. She’d changed into a sweatshirt and jeans and tossed two changes of clothes in the back, as well, after switching out her slippers for a pair of boots. There had also been four unopened boxes of cereal in one cabinet, two bags of cookies and a box of breakfast bars that she brought with her as well. It wasn’t a large haul, but it was enough to last her for a bit if she rationed herself.

She was just thrilled to have her bug-out bags with her. She packed several and had once stashed them in each room of the
house. Come to think of it, that had been the last thing she’d done before she was shipped off to Sunny Haven Institution. Each BOB had two switchblades, a mini-baseball bat, a tactical pen, non-perishable food items, two bottles of water, a first-aid kit, and a length of rope. She’d intended to add to the bags over time, but hadn’t been able to do so before they’d decided she was crazy.

Had she ever
really
expected it to happen during her lifetime? Well, yes
and
no, she supposed. Lorna let her mind wander while she drove. It kept her focus off what had happened back at the house. As she drove out of the middle-class housing development she’d lived in her whole life and headed west towards Jeff’s trailer park, she remembered how it had all been a game to her a year ago. When had it
stopped
being a game? It didn’t truly matter. She’d just known the day would come when the horror movies she’d cut her teeth on would become reality. She’d studied all the post-apocalyptic e-books she could download like she was preparing for her SATs. And she’d packed carefully…

Had
she ever thought the day would come where she’d need it all? In her heart of hearts she just wasn’t sure. She knew Jeff was convinced, and found it funny that she, who’d harbored doubt, was the one locked up and studied like a lab rat, while he was free and going about his daily business. Then again, Jeff’s parents had never given a shit about him. She wondered if they’d even noticed, and suspected they didn’t. They only cared about two things- their next bottle of brew and the Powerball. Did that make him lucky in the end? She supposed it all depended on if he was still alive.

Jeff only lived ten miles away from Lorna, but it might as well have been ten states. Gradually the well-tended yards of suburbia disappeared behind her, and the paved streets gave way to dirt roads and dark forests. His trailer park was in the middle of the wooded area, and it looked like the middle of a war zone.
She didn’t let that worry her. That was actually normal for this place. Cars up on blocks, faded children’s toys littering the yards, empty cigarette packs and soda cans strewn around. It was
so
normal that hope lifted her up and she fought against it. She couldn’t afford to believe everything was fine. After all, there was blood here, too.

His single-wide was on the very last street, and she drove towards it with trepidation. She didn’t know if he was alive, and she doubted he was still home even if he was. They’d planned out several meeting areas for if it all went south, but she needed to see his house first. It was like visiting a headstone in a cemetery, but she wanted to see the place where they’d shared their first kiss nearly one year ago.

She only saw two people shambling through the street when she pulled up in front of Jeff’s trailer. One was the next door neighbor, Mrs. Boone. Her jowls shook as they always had, but dried blood coated the front of her muumuu and one arm was ripped off. Lorna caved in her head without hesitation, the crowbar covered in gore after so much use. The other zombie was nearly unrecognizable. If it weren’t for the nametag on the dirty coveralls, she never would have recognized Jeff’s father. His face had been chewed on, and his nose was a gaping hole. She killed him with no regret. She’d always hated that bastard anyway.

Lorna walked up the dilapidated porch, holding onto the crowbar with one hand and the dry-rotted railing with the other. She winced as a splinter bit into her palm, but she’d worry about disinfecting it later. She
had
to see inside the trailer. She needed to know if Jeff’s body was inside, no matter the condition. She steeled herself, sending up another prayer as she opened the front door and stepped in.