Survival (2 page)

Within seconds she was soaked; her blonde
hair plastered against her scalp. The rain washed the blood down
her face as she made a dash for the cover of the front porch.

Noise could create a problem, so she tried
the door first, but of course found it locked. Holding her breath,
she knocked softly.

Just as she lifted her hand, a sound carried
through the rain and she whipped around, ready to flee. An old man
shuffled alongside the house across the street, seemingly oblivious
to the pounding rain. He had knocked over a trash can. Could be
just the unsteady gait of a senior citizen. It wasn't discernible
at first. But then the wind changed and she picked up the smell of
blood and decaying flesh.

Oh, God, no. Please. Not now.
Adrenaline surged through her body.

Turning back, she knocked a little louder.
Almost immediately she heard something on the other side of the
door as if whoever was there had been waiting for her to leave.

"Meredith. It's Sarah. Open the door.
Hurry!"

"Sarah. Go away. It's not a good time." The
haughty tone of the woman was mixed with fear and something Sarah
could not identify.

She would have laughed if she hadn't been so
afraid. "Of course it's not a good time, Meredith. It's hell out
here. Let me in . . . please." Meredith liked when people groveled.
So she would grovel if she had to.

"No. Get away from the door!"

Sarah half turned to see where the old man
had gone and found him at the edge of the street as if listening.
She didn't know how the dead could hear, but then again, she didn't
know how they walked around either. Fortunately, with the rain and
wind, it was unlikely he had heard her. So far. Rage filled
her.

"Meredith, if you don't open up this door in
the next three seconds, I swear I'm going to break every one of
your damn windows. Now let me in!"

So much for groveling.

Sarah wasted no time when she heard the
deadbolt disengage. She grabbed the knob and turned, pushing in at
the same time.

Meredith gasped and stepped back. "What do
you think you're doing?"

"I need your phone. Where is it?" She walked
through the foyer into a dark living room.

"You're getting my floors all dirty. Wait
here." Meredith started to turn around, but stopped at the low
menace in Sarah's voice.

"What the hell is wrong with you? We're in
the middle of a zombie apocalypse and you're worried about your
floors? That's appalling even for you." Sarah was incredulous.

Meredith sat on the sofa and flipped on the
lamp on the end table. "What are you talking about? Have you
finally gone completely over the edge to insanity?"

"Oh my God. Are you trying to get us
killed?" Sarah jumped for the light, nearly toppling it in her
haste. She righted it and turned it off. "Just tell me where the
phone is, I need to call the police. A couple of thugs are holding
my sister hostage."

"Your sis . . . I . . . I've no idea if
you're crazy, or what's going on, but the phones are out. I've been
asleep all day and tried to call Rudy just before you got here. I
guess the storm took them out. I just checked. I forgot to charge
my cellphone. You interrupted before I could plug it in." Her voice
sounded weary.

Sarah found the small flashlight on her key
ring and turned the light on Meredith. She looked frail and gray,
her hand pressed against her stomach. She had obviously been sick.
Normally put together impeccably, she now looked unkempt; her
pajamas wrinkled and sweat-stained, a scarf covered her head.

"Are you okay, Mere?" She sat down next to
Meredith, and appraised her co-worker.

The woman grimaced, holding her hand up in
front of her eyes. "Get that out of my face. And you know I hate
when you call me that." Meredith's eyes focused on Sarah's wrist
and she gasped. "What the hell? Why do you have a handcuff on? What
have you done now?"

Sarah sighed. "Look, we've got bigger things
to worry about right now. I managed to get away from the guys who
grabbed us, but I couldn't get Dana free. I have to help her. And
if you haven't noticed, the world is going to hell without even the
damn handbasket. Where's Rudy?"

"In Chicago. He was supposed to be back last
night, but he called and said flights were delayed and it'd be
today. I haven't heard from him though and I'm worried." Concern
marred her features. She looked more vulnerable than Sarah had ever
seen her and older than her forty-two years.

"I'm sure flights have been canceled until
this . . . this epidemic is under control. But he's got guns,
right? I know he does. You've talked about his collection. So where
are they?" Sarah got up and brushed the wet hair off her face.

"You're bleeding! Something really has
happened, hasn't it?" Meredith struggled to get up and then swayed
before finding her balance. Her gaze traveled over the rest of
Sarah and the cuts and abrasions on her arms, the dots of blood on
her T-shirt.

Conflicting emotions warred within Sarah.
She could tell Meredith was really ill, but her sister was in
danger. She needed help. And she needed it fast.

"Meredith, please, tell me where the guns
are. I really need to get back to my sister before they feed her to
those monsters." Her voice broke. Just the thought of what they had
threatened made her gag.

"Feed her to—" Meredith looked at her for a
few seconds and then moved off toward a room at the back of the
house, reaching out for the wall every few feet. "I hope I don't
regret this. Point your flashlight down this way."

They entered a study and Meredith pressed a
button hidden under a desk drawer. A panel slid open in one of the
walls, a light switched on illuminating the contents. Sarah spun
around and checked, but there were black-out curtains on the
windows, so they were probably safe enough.

Turning back, she gaped at the weapon stash.
You've got to be freakin' kidding me.
There were all kinds
of firearms -- from handguns to assault rifles. She moved into the
recessed area and picked up a Glock, removed the magazine, and
found it loaded. She sent it home again and chambered a round.
Different types of holsters took up one shelf. Sarah found one that
would work and slid it over her shoulder. She gave thanks that her
older cousin had been a gun aficionado and had passed along his
knowledge as well as a self-defense education. He had made certain
she and Dana knew how to protect themselves. She hoped he was okay.
If anyone could survive a zombie apocalypse, it was Brian.

She turned to face Meredith. "Which of these
are you most comfortable with?"

"Me? I don't know anything about guns.
That's Rudy's thing —" She wobbled and grabbed her stomach. "Oh,
God." Meredith staggered from the room and made her way to the
bathroom a couple of doors down, with Sarah following. The door
slammed in front of her, causing Sarah to jerk to a stop so she
wouldn't crash into it. Retching sounds carried through the wooden
barrier. She hesitated a few seconds before entering.

Wash cloths were stacked near the sink as if
waiting. Sarah grabbed one and ran cold water over it. She squeezed
the excess out and handed it to Meredith who was on her knees,
crumpled against the wall. She looked embarrassed, refusing to make
eye contact as she wiped her face with the cool cloth.

"I thought you'd been on vacation for the
last month. But you've obviously been sick. What's wrong?" Sarah
knelt beside her.

Meredith paused, emotions flitting across
her face before she came to a decision. She flushed the toilet and
reached out her hand. "Help me up."

Sarah rose and grabbed her hand, tugging
gently until she was standing. Meredith took a toothbrush from the
porcelain holder and put paste on it. "I didn't want anyone to
know, but I have cancer. Yesterday was my last chemo treatment. I
took leave because I couldn't hide the effects any longer." She
brushed slowly, but expending even that little bit of energy seemed
to wear her out.

"I'm so sorry." They'd had their problems in
the past, but Sarah would never wish such a horrible disease on
anyone. "What's your prognosis?"

"The doctor is hopeful. He thinks I've got a
really good chance to beat it." Meredith rinsed her mouth and then
gripped the counter to steady herself.

Sarah's mouth turned up into a brief smile.
"Well, I'm sure you will. I've never met anyone so stubborn in my
entire life."

Meredith's mouth moved, not uttering a
sound. Finally, she got out one word. "Pot."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Kettle."

They stared each other down and then both
burst into laughter.

"Well, that felt good. Here," Sarah placed
an arm around the woman and was surprised at how thin she had
become, "let me help you into the study where you can sit down for
a minute."

Easing into a large leather chair which
seemed to swallow her, Meredith asked, "Who has your sister?"

"Three guys taking advantage of the chaos. I
had picked Dana up and two of them jumped into the back seat before
we pulled away from the curb. One of them held a gun on her, while
the other gave me directions. We ended up at an isolated building
just a little ways from here where another of their psycho friends
waited for them."

Sarah found a black bag in with the weapon
stash and began filling it with guns and ammo. A few hunting knives
found their way in as well.

"I know you're not comfortable with guns,
but do you know how to use any of these?"

"I went to the range with Rudy a few times.
I can manage. Just pick out something easy." Meredith pushed
herself up and started for the doorway. "I'm going to go change
clothes."

While her co-worker was in the bedroom,
Sarah looked over the selection. Glocks were her favorite and easy
to use. No safety—just point and shoot. But Meredith was so weak,
she probably wouldn't have the strength to rack one. She found a
.38, loaded it, and found a holster for it. She finished loading
the weapons in the bag, placing a 9mm in another holster at her
back.

"Sarah?" Meredith called from down the hall.
"Can you help me with this?"

Entering the room, Sarah saw a bag on the
bed already filled to capacity. Surprisingly, it looked like
sensible clothing inside. She rarely saw Meredith without her
designer threads. She had definitely married well. Their
investigator salaries from the family court could not have afforded
any of the luxuries Meredith now took for granted.

"What's this?"

Meredith had been busy filling a bag with
toiletries and medications. She zipped the small case and put it in
the larger one. "It's a go bag. Or at least that's what Rudy calls
it. He insisted I have one ready to go in case of an emergency. I
guess he was right." A soft cry came from the woman and a tear
escaped, rolling down her cheek. "I hope he's okay."

"You just have to believe he is. And I'm
sure he'll find his way back here to you as soon as he can."

Sarah held the gun and holster out and
Meredith took them, copying the way Sarah had put hers on. "This is
real, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's real. Why don't you rest here
and as soon as I can, I'll come back and make sure everything is
okay. Then we'll figure out what to do." Sarah turned toward the
door, slinging the strap of the gun bag over her head, wearing it
cross-body style. She needed her hands free.

"No way. I'm going with you. You'll need
help getting your sister." Meredith tried to pick up the bag but
didn't have the strength. Frustration at the way the cancer and
treatment had zapped her stamina showed in her face. "You'll have
to carry this though."

Sarah knew what it cost the woman to have to
admit to any weakness. She had always acted like she could do
everything better than anyone else. And there it was — the main
problem between them. Meredith continuously tried to make Sarah
feel inferior, which had worn thin after four years.

"You're too ill, Mere. You can't help me
fight off the psychos. I promise. I'll come back and we'll make
some decisions about what to do next."

"I'm coming. I know I'm too weak to help
much, but I can stay in the car and I'll know where you and your
sister are. If there's a problem, I can go get help. You need—" A
loud crash came from down the hall.

"That sounded like a window breaking! Come
on, Mere. You obviously can't stay here now."

Sarah grabbed the bag, and ran for the door.
She looked back to check on Meredith's progress and saw a glint of
steel coming from the study. A machete. Why hadn't she seen it
before? She raced into the room, seizing it from where it hung on
the recessed wall. She found the button under the desk and closed
the panel once again hiding the stash. They may need to come back
for the rest later. She made it back to the hall by the time
Meredith drew even with her.

They reached the front door and Sarah
checked through the peephole. She could not see anything from such
a limited area, so she opened the door a crack, peeking through.
She shut it again just as quietly.

"Okay. There's nothing just in front of the
door. But I could see movement to the side, probably where the
window was broken. I'm going to go get the car and pull it up here
to the door. Be ready to move when I pull up." Sarah gently touched
the woman's shoulder.

Meredith opened her mouth as if to object,
but closed it again and nodded.

Taking a breath, Sarah gathered her nerve
and pulled keys from her pocket. Thank God she had left the SUV
unlocked. She opened the door and stepped out, peering to the left.
Bile rose in throat. She gagged silently, but forced it down.

There had to be at least five of the dead
gathered around a man half in and half out of the window. Loopy
strands of what could only be intestines were pulled from the man's
body. Blood and gore covered what remained of him. As long as she
lived, she would never forget the wet, slurpy sounds of the zombies
feasting on their prey or the sounds the man made as he died.