Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (3 page)

What
about on the other side of the world? It wasn’t relevant to my immediate
concerns, but I’ve never been able to focus exclusively on one thing. I figured
they would have lost nearly as many in the first few hours as the United States.
If a quarter of the population fell and died in a particularly dreadful manner,
the survivors who saw this happening would have tried to help. Only seven
minutes till reanimation meant a lot of zombies were probably being crouched
over or having CPR given to them or whatever. They would have had ready victims
within reach. And any advantage from being awake when it happened, of having
seen the zombies rise and attack others, would be offset by the fact that most
of the nations in Europe and Asia were disarmed. America had plenty of guns.
There was no shortage in most third world countries either, but the other
developed nations had mostly banned private ownership. The survivors would have
difficulty defending themselves.

Having
decided the countryside was where I wanted to be – Green Acres is the place for
me; sorry about that – the next question was where. That was easy. I was going
northwest. East had too many people. Due west took me into the desert, and
while I liked the desert, I didn’t want to live there without air conditioning.
Northwest into the plains took me to areas like Wyoming, Montana, the Dakotas,
which admittedly were simply north, that had few cities, none of them large,
and a very low population density. That was it.

*
* *

Before
retiring for the evening, I made the rounds and peeked out all the windows.
There was nothing in the backyard, not that I expected to see anything. On the
first day I went out and locked both gates. Between that and the six foot
privacy fence, I was somewhat secure. Even so, it was only smart to keep
checking. The front seemed empty as well. Then I noticed something. There was a
shadow flitting between trees, quickly, across the street. With no lights I
couldn’t tell, but it might be a person. I saw no zombies – with their constant
movement they’d been drifting in and out of view throughout the day – and I
decided to take a chance. I opened the door a crack, turning my flashlight on
and a off a few times.

That’s
how I met Briana. She spotted my signal and sprinted over, got inside, and
collapsed in the entrance way. I shut and locked the door immediately and then
double checked the windows while she lay there panting, drenched in sweat, and
looking completely miserable. There was no sign that she’d been seen. Thank God
for that. We were still safe.

“Are you
okay?”

She
stared up at me, seemingly without comprehension.

“What’s
your name?”

Maybe it
was best I start with the basics.

“Briana,”
she answered a moment later, “Briana Mills.”

“Well
Briana, I’m Jacob Thornton. Now, are you okay? Any injuries? Were you bitten by
any of… those things?”

I
realize questioning her in this manner was more than a little rude, but, as all
you survivors will agree, determining if someone has been bitten is important.
It’s one of the few pieces of information others in a group have to know, have
the absolute right to know.

She
shook her head, and I relaxed. She looked terrible, really did, but there was
no blood, no sign that she’d been hurt.

“Let’s
get you cleaned up. That sound all right?”

I held
out my hand, and after another long pause Briana allowed me to help her up. She
was fairly tall, maybe five foot seven. I based that on her being a few inches
shorter than my own six foot one. She was young as well, perhaps in high school
or college. Later, I learned she was a seventeen year old about to start her
senior year. And Briana was certainly pretty, not a classical beauty – I’ll try
to make sure she never reads this part of my narrative – but still enough to
draw the gaze of any heterosexual man she passed. Green eyes, tanned
complexion, medium brown hair that fell below her shoulders, and she has a
narrow waist along with excellent curves. I don’t think I want her reading that
part either. It makes me seem a bit too preoccupied with her outward
appearance, but I’d just met her so what else was I going to focus on?

I guided
her upstairs to the master bathroom. The shower no longer worked, but the tub
was still full. So, I pointed out the plastic bucket and explained it could be
used for washing and to refill the back of the toilet after she flushed. It was
wasteful, but since I was leaving there was no reason to suffer through the
stink. As to soap and personal grooming items, I told Briana to take whatever
she needed. I even brought her some pajamas. Well, I brought her some athletic
shorts and a T-shirt which was the most suitable thing I had. Then I left her
alone while I rechecked the doors and windows.

When I
returned fifteen minutes later, Briana was asleep in the middle of my bed. Her
hair was wet – it appeared she washed it – and she was wearing the clothes I’d
given her. While I would have liked to talk about what she’d seen, I could
understand her exhaustion. I was less understanding about her lying in the
center of the mattress however. Completely unacceptable. I pushed her to one
side – she did not wake – and after barring the door with the dresser in case
something managed to get inside the house, I laid down beside her and tried to
fall asleep, despite the stifling, miserable heat.

*
* *

Waking
shortly after dawn, I gently shook Briana’s shoulder. She jerked at my touch,
her eyes flying open, and I stepped back to give her room.

“Time to
get up.”

“Where…”
She looked about. “Jacob, right?”

I
smiled. She appeared much more coherent, now that she’d gotten some rest.
“That’s me. You can have the bathroom first. I’ll get you a change of clothes.
I think I have something that’ll fit.”

The
clothing she’d shown up in had been left on the bathroom floor, beside the
sink.

“Are you
alone?”

I
nodded. “No family. You?”

Her head
fell immediately, and she began to cry. That answered the question,
unfortunately.

“I’m
sorry.”

She
nodded absently.

“Get
cleaned up. Take a bath even, if you want. I have a second tub more full than
that one. More water downstairs too. Then we’ll see about getting some food in
you. I have plenty.”

Per my
original strategy, I should now be leaving the house. Well, there would be no
running off today. I’d need that time to explain to Briana all that I intended,
along with my reasoning. Hopefully, she would agree to make the run out of
town. If not, well, she could have the house. I wasn’t going to stay. However,
if I was doing something glaringly stupid, something I missed, maybe she could
point that out. It would be nice to have someone to toss ideas back and forth
with.

Heading
downstairs, I made a platter with some sliced steak, lunchmeat, and cheese, all
of which were still surviving in my cooler. I added some sweet rolls as well.
It wasn’t a proper meal, more of a glorified snack tray, but it should fill her
up. Then it was back to peeking out the windows. Plenty of zombies about this
morning, quite depressing.

In
addition to the walking corpses, I noticed one other thing. The rifles the
three idiots had been carrying were gone. The wrecked pickup was still there,
but someone had taken the weapons. That was rather annoying. I’d intended on
snagging those on my way out of town.

“Jacob?”

I
hurried back to the kitchen. “Yes?”

“I can
eat this?” she asked, timidly.

“As much
as you want, all of it if you like. It’ll go bad soon enough, and other than
some sandwiches for later, It’ll be staying here when we leave.”

“Leave,”
she gasped. “You mean, back out there?”

“First
of all Briana, chew your food. Choking won’t do you any good.”

She
stared at me – okay, so it was a weird comment – before taking a glass of water
and washing it down.

“Now, I
don’t mean go out into the streets. I’m not stupid or crazy. What I’m referring
to is getting in my Jeep and driving out of the city and away from the
zombies.”

From the
relieved look on her face that was a much more pleasant prospect.

“We
can’t stay here. I think we’re safe enough for now, since they don’t know we’re
inside the house, but the food’s going to run out eventually, the water way
sooner, even if I used it only for drinking. No matter what, we have to leave
at some point, so we’ll finish getting ready today and depart first thing in
the morning. I was going to go today actually, but since you showed up we’ll
knock that back twenty four hours.”

“I… Do
we have to go so soon?” She popped a slice of cheese in her mouth.

“Not
really,” I admitted, “but I’m worried about those things finding out we’re in
here. The front door is solid, but the windows are more than big enough to get
through.”

She
didn’t look fully convinced.

“With
what, ninety, a hundred thousand people in Denton – I forget – not counting the
universities, I think the odds of something going wrong are too high to risk
it.”

“How
many of them do you think are zombies? I know about all the people who got sick
and died at the start, but, well.”

That was
a good question. I’d done some calculations on what I thought happened the
first day, but now it was the third. How many had died and come back since
then?

“It’s
just a guess, understand, but I’m thinking a good three quarters of the
population are zombies, or were bitten by one. I’m pretty sure anyone bitten
will end up as a zombie too.”

She
began to breathe faster, not quite hyperventilating.

“Most of
those still alive are likely hunkered down in their homes, maybe in offices or
other buildings. I only saw a few people, other than you, but they were drunk
and didn’t end well. Granted, I’m way out to the side of everything, but I do
think the living are largely hiding. That won’t last, and I really want to be
gone before they start panicking and try to escape. Anyway, if it is seventy
five percent, then we have close to five million zombies within fifty, sixty
miles of us, lots of people in the Metroplex.”

Damn,
that revelation was depressing me as well, and, logical though it appeared, the
number seemed incredible, impossible.

Briana
began to pull on her hair. “Where to then?”

I opened
my road atlas and set it on the granite countertop. “I’m thinking the western
half of the Midwest: Wyoming, Nebraska, Idaho, Montana, maybe the Dakotas. It’s
a long trip, really long, but these places all have wide, wide open areas with
few towns and few people. They’re colder too, so the temps will be more
bearable.”

“Winters
are going to be bad. I’ve been skiing in Colorado. It’s cold there. Probably be
colder north of that with lots of snow.”

“True.”
The turning of the seasons had to be taken into consideration. “Lots of animals
to shoot for food, maybe even some chickens or domesticated things we can find.
Probably fewer refugees fighting over what’s left too.”

The
thought of what living people were capable of, particularly if survival was at
stake, was almost as frightening as the zombies outside my door. I definitely
wanted to be gone before people started running out of food and had to leave
their homes and hidey holes. Most would likely be decent enough folk, but there
would be no shortage of those who weren’t.

“I guess
so, and you did say we?”

“I’m
more than happy to have you along Briana.” I gave her what I hoped was a
reassuring smile and not something that hinted at ulterior motives. “You can
stay if you want to…”

“I’m not
staying alone,” she said, quickly.

“Good
enough. I’ll show you what I got packed, and we can switch out some stuff to
make room for what you’ll need.” I shrugged apologetically. “We could try to
get by your house if you need to retrieve anything.”

I really
did not want to be traveling about the town, but it turned out to not be an
issue.

“No,”
she replied softly, looking down at her feet. Then she turned her green eyes
toward me once more. “Whatever you have here will work.”

Briana
spent the next few hours going through my belongings. She concurred with the
idea of jeans and jackets when outside, for safety, and she cut the bottom off
a pair of mine for that purpose. A belt was required to hold them up, her waist
being, as I previously described, narrow, but they were workable. The jacket
was easier. I had a few old ones lying around from way back that were tight on
me but came close to fitting her, close enough that they wouldn’t hinder her
movement in any way.

On the
downside, from a perspective of space management, she claimed to need a whole
lot more in the area of soaps, shampoos, and bathroom items in general. It was
likely my fault since I kept stressing for her to take anything she needed. At
first, she constantly asked if this was okay or if she could have that, but
once she decided I really meant take whatever, she did just that. In the end we
packed pretty much everything I had. I can say, with certainty, that the bubble
bath should have been left behind. I think we tossed it somewhere in Oklahoma.