End of the Line (Book 2): Stuck in the Middle

Stuck in the Middle

End of the Line series Book#2

Lara Frater

©Lara Frater, 2013

Desperate Measures Press.

ISBN-13: 978-1492147701

ISBN-10: 1492147702

Cover ©Dave Mauzy 2013

Thanks to my readers and reviewers: Paul Loh, Dave Mauzy, Jonathan Frater, Frannie Zellman, & Terri Weitze

Author’s Note on proofreading: I did my best to catch as many mistakes as possible (As did the reviewers). However this is a self-published novel and unfortunately that means no professionally editor or proofreader. I apologize for any errors I missed.

“If you are looking for a thoughtful, character driven look at the zombie apocalypse, then this is the book for you. ” – Amazon review of
End of the Line.
http://www.amazon.com/End-of-the-Line-ebook/dp/B009UL84PI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1382140380&sr=8-1&keywords=lara+frater+end+of+the+line

Stuck in the Middle

Part 1 Annemarie

Chapter 1

             
“Line up your sight,” said her voice steady and not fearful of the creature standing not three feet from us. I wondered how long before it realized we were nearby and gave off that unnerving moan. If others zombies were close they would pick it up like some crazy undead party-line.

             
She stood behind me, her body tight against mine, not in a loving embrace but trying to keep my hands, arms, and body straight for the shoot. “Keep the stock on your shoulder but a bit over. Look down the sight. Is the head dead center?” Her voice was still, calm and soothing but always with a hint of contempt.

“Yes,” I said with a shaky voice. I preferred them far away.

“Then, shoot.”

I would have sworn it lined up properly. Right on target of its disgusting decaying forehead but when I shot, the bullet tore through the thing’s throat. It flew back spreading gore on the window of a shoe store behind it. I knew it would get back up. A moment later, it did. No expression crossed its undead face. All it cared about was getting to us. It let out that moan and moved as fast as its decayed legs could go. I felt Grace’s body fall from me.

              “I don’t know why I bother,” she said, ignoring the danger. “I found a rifle that fits you, yet you still can’t get the head.”

             
I watched the zombie instead. A decaying white man whose age I couldn’t identify. His former blue suit torn to shreds so much I could see the greying skin underneath. Grace pulled out her handgun from the shoulder holster, a gift from Mike and shot the thing in the head while barely turning. I hated her. Not really. She had softened since we left the Costking and gave shooting and sailing lessons to anyone who asked.

             
I looked away and shivered in the chilly air. I looked about the abandoned outlet mall. Remembered when I shopped here at Christmas where it had been cold but filled with shoppers and cheery music.

Now it looked decrepit, and decayed like the zombie Grace shot. Store windows were smashed either by people or the elements. Pieces of glass and debris covered the sidewalks and the street. Rusting cars stood dead in the parking lot. 

              “I got close. It’s not like I haven’t gotten headshots before.”

             
“Close does not cut it. You hesitated at the last minute and dropped your sight. You waste bullets and would have gotten bitten. You need to get the head on the first shot.”

             
I didn’t say anything. Grace spoke now more often with a sardonic wit than nastiness but I understood her frustration. She gave lessons to Mike, Dena, Tanya, Hannah and briefly to Dave. All but Dave and I had improved. She ended her lessons with Dave and now I was worried she would end them with me. I had gotten better. I always got the bullet somewhere on the body where previously I’d miss.

             
We were outside the
Sporting Store
. Most of it had been ransacked over the past year and a half, but with a smaller population and enormous inventory, the place still had plenty of supplies. We needed warmer winter coats.

             
Two months ago, there had been a serious discussion about moving the boat south. Most of us, not me, voted to stay around the island. Tanya thought it would be easier if we were somewhere familiar. I worried about the cold where twelve of us shared seven kerosene heaters.

             
Tanya worried about zombies. The boat, which Jim named
The Renewal,
allowed us protection, but we’ve seen less of them since the radioacid bomb went off. The ones we saw were old. Jim categorized them. Old ones were more decayed and meant they had been zombies before the blast, young ones meant that they became zombies more recently. So far the only ones we’ve seen, including the one I tried to shoot, had been old ones.

             
Inside the store, Mike and Jim gathered supplies. We would have been with them when Grace spotted the zombie. Instead of her shooting it, she decided to use it as a learning experience for me. She might be disappointed that I didn’t get a head shot, but I was getting close.

             
She was right. I hesitated at the last minute and dropped my sight. I wasn’t used to seeing them up close.

             
With the zombie dead, I headed into the store. The door and display window had been smashed, but the door had been so broken, it wouldn’t
open. Instead I climbed through the store display keeping my eye on the broken glass. Grace came in behind me.

             
“You get it, Annemarie?” Mike asked. He stood near the broken door. Mike was a handsome man going on middle aged, stubble, brown hair with hints of gray and dark brown eyes. I would hop into his bed anytime if he wasn’t married. Things like marriages and relationships got pushed aside, but not with Mike. He was faithful to his wife Hannah and I respected that. Besides if I needed sex I had Henry.

             
Mike had a shopping cart filled with camping supplies. Jim had one with coats. He probably knew everyone’s size. Good luck finding one for me. Most stores don’t carry tall and fat. Costking didn’t carry many plus sizes despite their slogan of
“We have it all.”
I often squeezed into men’s clothes. Maddie who was larger had it worse because she couldn’t have even fit in the men’s clothes. She knew how to sew and could add material and remove seams. She did a few for me. It was nice to occasionally wear clothes meant for boobs. I realized I’ll never get anything new from her.

I knew a Lane Bryant was in this mall and if we could find it I
could get some clothes meant for me. No coats because the dead began to rise in the spring when most coats had already been sent back to the warehouse.

             
The Sporting Store
which had still had winter coats, from the end of ski season, wouldn’t have my size and I would have to get a man’s coat.

             
“Grace got it. I winged it.” Mike didn’t reply. He was a good shooter, second only to Grace. With her lessons, he had gotten head shots almost all the time. No one held a candle to Grace. She got her targets without hesitation along pristine head shots. Unlike me, she looked a perfect size four and never had to worry about lack of sizes except preferred designer and tailor made clothes. Not much of that at Costking or an outlet mall.

             
“You’ll get the next one,” he said and smiled reassuring, but I didn’t feel it.

             
“Annemarie,” Jim said who was holding up a men’s green coat that looked like a zombie vomited on. “Do you want to try this on for size?”

             
“Sure.” I walked over to Jim. He was a sweetheart, always looking out for our wellbeing. He also had a nice bod which was reserved for other guys. Mindy and I used to have a game of trying to spot him after he showered. I missed her. She had been the one person I really connected with after everything went to shit. Now she was gone and I felt detached from everyone.

             
I shared my bed with Henry, a nice kid but not very interesting. I never liked to sleep alone, always felt comfort with someone else in the bed. It didn’t matter who.

             
Then the whales came. When I first heard them it terrified me. Everyone went on the deck to see them but I stayed behind. Weirdly thinking they would attack the boat.

             
They didn’t. Then they came often and eventually it became old hat. I started to leave the security of my bed to see them, enjoying their company on nights when I was on watch, which I hated doing. In the pitch black there was nothing to do except be lonely and depressed.

The boat had heating but it wasn’t really meant to be lived on during winter. Mike and Dave worked on making it more insulated but we had to prepare for frigid cold. Ever since the flu and zombie apocalypse came, the summers have been brutally hot and winters very cold. Mike thought it had to do with the sudden lack of pollution and jet fuel, the planet balancing out. All I cared about was not freezing to death.

“Turn around,” he said. I put my rifle on a shelf filled with tank tops that wouldn’t fit me. I turned around and he slipped the coat over my bulky sweatshirt. It felt stiff in the arms but I was able to zip it up.

“Not going to be able shoot much in this coat. I can barely move my arms.”

“I hope we don’t have to do much shooting on the boat.”

I didn’t like the idea of spending three months on a boat. When Jim announced we were taking a trip I jumped at the chance. I was sick of being cooped up all day. I didn’t care if a thousand zombies were waiting for us.

Turns out it was just the one I couldn’t kill.

We parked in a marina near Fisher’s Island, took the dinghy to shore and found a car Mike could start.
Usually Henry came to avoid being seasick and because he was better at picking out cars that could run, but he opted to stay behind today. Mike started a rusted black SUV because it had to most gas and storage.

Here we encountered the one zombie and corpses but no living people. I had no idea where everyone went. Did a lot of them die fleeing? We lost a good chunk of our people during the Great Pull. That was
the term Bob Bam coined when the zombies were dragged to New York City and bombed. For all I know the city was gone. Tanya, our leader won’t let us go further west then Riverhead. We took two trips to Montauk looking for the government camp or the people who did the bombing, but so far nothing.

I wiggled my arms around a little. The coat would have to do. I took it off and placed it on Jim’s pile.

“Thanks. Perfect.” Jim smiled but he knew it wasn’t perfect. Nothing was. Everyone I loved was dead, my parents, my boyfriend, my friends. It was no wonder all of us stayed together despite we would never be friends before.

I put the rifle on my back and walked around the store looking for things to use, looking at clothes that would never fit me. My boyfriend told me to look into plus size modeling. I had the height to do it. I thought things like that were stupid.

Mike had moved to the camping aisle where he loaded up. The shelves weren’t empty mostly because most people who got the flu stayed home and died, and didn’t bother stocking up.

“Need help?”

“Anything with kerosene; we got to keep the heaters running this winter or we’ll freeze.”

“We could always find a house to bunk in. One with a fireplace.”

“I like the boat. It’s secure. Don’t have to worry about zombies or humans. Besides I can keep it warm.”

Mike and his family were a great addition. He was a survivalist and gun nut who had been preparing for shortages ever since he read about peak oil. He thought we would end up running out of oil, not running from zombies. Mike had one of the few intact family units. Most had been decimated by the flu, but afterwards he had lost his son to the zombies and father to a heart attack.

“How was target practice, really?” he asked, his eye brows rose. Mike was only slightly younger than my own father.

“I almost got the head. Grace didn’t let me try again—I guess it was too close.” Actually she wasted time lecturing me.

“You’ll get better.”

I don’t think Mike’s wife Hannah wanted me to be around him. I had the coveted position of family slut. I needed a warm bed but not from a married man. I’ve been practicing the conversation I might have to have with her.

“Why don’t you do look for first aid supplies? Grab two or three first aid kits.” We weren’t taking everything mostly because we had to transport it on a dinghy. Tanya told us not to be greedy. Other people might need supplies and we had a good amount.

Jim had been searching for good farmland
for us to settle in the spring. I missed Rosa. She was a great gardener. Last year we got some fresh fruits and vegetables. Not a lot but enough to enjoy. Now we were back to canned foods and boxed stuff. We also had MRE’s and emergency food buckets, oh joy. We had enough canned supplies for at least a year.

I missed blueberries. Not something found in a can. Blueberries can grow wild in places but not on a boat.

Near the first aid aisle was a display of beef jerky. Only four bags remained and I took them all. We always needed protein.

I went to aisle with the first aid kits.

There was a sleeping bag in the middle of the floor and a camping stove next to it. The bag was empty but when I touched it, it felt warm.

Someone else was in the store.

I didn’t know if this person was hostile or not. I walked slowly back to Mike keeping my eye out for movement.

He must have seen the look on my face when I got to his aisle. “What’s wrong? A zombie?”

“I think someone living might be in the store,” Mike didn’t look scared but worried. He was the closest we had to a de facto father. I dumped the jerky into his cart.

“Grace, Jim, come here, now,” he ordered. “We may have trouble.”

Jim dropped the coats and walked to us. Grace came with her gun facing down but I knew she could have it up and shooting in less than a heartbeat. She looked bored. I think she liked Mike because they both shared a passion for guns, but she hated being told what to do.