Read The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide Online

Authors: Erica Stevens

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The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide (2 page)

BOOK: The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide
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"Someone blockaded the door with a shelf," she informed them.

"That doesn't sound good." Carl stepped forward as Riley disappeared into the shadowed interior. "Are you going to be ok out here?"

Al nodded as he adjusted his hold on his rifle. "We'll be fine."

John followed cautiously behind as he stepped over the threshold of the small store. The smell of it was something that he couldn't pinpoint, but it caused bile to surge up his throat as he fought against the urge to gag. Images of rotting and decaying flesh sprang to mind as they crept further into the dark interior of the small convenience store.

"Should we even take anything from here?" Riley's voice was choked and raw. She held the gun out before her, but her face was scrunched as she seemed to be fighting the urge to vomit as strongly as he was. "I mean that
smell
."

"Just grab canned goods," Carl instructed. "I don't think it's a good idea to eat anything that was just wrapped in packaging from here. I know I'm not going to."

John wasn't going to argue with that statement. He didn't care if he was starving; he knew he wouldn't be able to force a piece of bread down his throat from this place. "What happened in this town?" John asked.

Riley's lips were clamped as she shook her head and swallowed heavily. "We're not that far from Foxboro, fifteen miles at most," Lee said. "How much of a difference could it have been between the towns?"

"Judging by the events of this day, and this place, a lot." Carl reached behind the counter and brusquely pulled a bunch of plastic bags off the hook and tossed them on the counter. He kept one in his hand as he turned toward the cigarettes, he didn't seem to care what brand they were as he stuffed the bag to near bursting. John hadn't seen Carl rattled since the first quakes hit, but there was a tremor in his hands that belied the calm exterior he was trying to portray.

"You ok?"

Carl glanced at him before nodding briskly and lighting a pilfered cigarette. "This place gives me the creeps."

John couldn't argue with that. "Yeah."

Carl tossed him some bags before sliding out from behind the counter. Riley and Lee stood close together as they made their way to the back of the store in sweeping gestures that reminded him of a detective show. Then, he realized that's exactly what they were mimicking, as it was the only thing they knew.

"I think some firearm training is necessary before we accidentally shoot each other," John said.

Carl was watching them with an eyebrow cocked in part amusement and part disbelief. "What do they think this is, Charlie's Angels?"

"She's no angel!" Lee called from the back of the store.

"Seriously, are you trying to piss me off when I have a gun in my hand?" Riley demanded.

"No, actually. Please just keep that thing away from me."

"Not making any promises."

"Why don't you both keep those guns pointed at the floor and your fingers
off
the triggers for now?" Carl suggested. He thrust his bag full of butts at John as he hurried toward the back of the store. John fumbled with the bag before clasping it against his chest. "I really don't feel like being shot in the ass today on top of everything else."

Riley nodded and lowered her gun. Lee studied his weapon before shrugging and dropping it to his side. "I don't think anyone is in here anyway," Lee said.

"Someone blocked that door," Riley reminded him.

"Yeah and I don't want to know why," Carl told her.

John tossed the bag of butts toward the door as Rochelle poked her head inside. Her nose wrinkled and she swiftly ducked back out. Al appeared, his eyes watered as he rapidly blinked at them. "Everything ok in here?" he inquired.

"We'll be out in a few minutes," John told him.

"I don't know how you're able to stay in here to begin with," he murmured before disappearing.

John almost told him that he'd get used to it, but there was no getting used to this stench. In fact, he was fairly certain that a hundred showers wouldn't remove the hideous, cloying smell from his skin. His clothes were absolute garbage.

He tossed some bags to the others before making his way down the shelves. He grabbed cans of beans, corn, peas, and spaghetti sauce before tying the bag off and heading back to the door. Carl took the bags from him and handed them out to Al and Rochelle. "Put them in the back of the truck with the other stuff."

John was tempted to grab some peanut butter crackers but he thought better of it. He wasn't so sure the plastic wrapping would block out whatever it was that encompassed this room. He glanced over the shelves but there really wasn't anything else he was willing to shove into his bag. Riley and Lee were by the coolers on the back wall, debating the merits of the products inside. As John drew closer, he spotted the puddle of water they were standing in. Some of it was a muddled color, and it took a disconcerting minute for him to realize that the ice cream and popsicles had melted into this ooze.

"Are you really going to take your chances with that?" John inquired.

"That's what I was saying," Riley retorted. "But Lee here thinks that the chicken tenders will be fine if we find a way to heat them up and eat them tonight."

"I still wouldn't eat them."

"I'm willing to take my chances." Lee snagged hold of a bag of tenders.

"That's brave," Riley told him.

Lee shrugged. "I've made it this far, I think I can handle a little poultry."

"Last meal?"

"Let's hope not, that's going to be a steak." Lee turned away and made his way carefully out of the puddle and toward the front door.

"He's crazy," Riley muttered.

"He's definitely something," John agreed. "Have the two of you been dating for long?"

It wasn't his smoothest line, but he didn't think there was time for smoothness in these circumstances. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline as a burst of laughter escaped her. "Lee and I? Absolutely not! Hey Lee, John thought we were dating!"

Lee glanced over his shoulder at them as he handed the bag out the door. "Sure, if I liked dating cactuses," he quipped as he made his way back toward them. "Cause Riley's about as prickly as one."

"You're a riot," she muttered as her finger twitched on the trigger of her gun.

John tried not to laugh as she continued to glare at Lee while he sweetly smiled back at her. "Besides, Xander's my best friend and I really don't feel like having my face punched in by him."

"Hardy har har." Though she was trying to sound sarcastic, a dull blush stained her cheeks and she looked inordinately pleased by Lee's words. "Xander wouldn't hit you."

"Wanna make a bet?"

Riley shrugged but a half smile tugged at her lips as she turned and made her way towards Carl. Lee propped his arm on the shelf as he rested his gun on a bag of flour and studied John. "She's off limits."

"I didn't mean anything by it," John assured him.

"Didn't you? I see the way you've been watching her. I don't blame you, she is hot and you don't know Xander, but she
is
off limits and if you try anything inappropriate…" He twisted the gun in his hand as his eyes narrowed.

John bristled at the implied threat but he held his hands up as he bit back his words. If this day had taught him anything it was that there were some battles worth fighting, and others that weren't. They were going to be together for awhile and Lee was just defending two of his friends. If someone had been inquiring about Rochelle, or any of the other girl friends he'd had, he would have had the same reaction.

"I really didn't mean anything by it, I was just curious."

Lee studied him before nodding. "I believe you. Beside's she really is as prickly as a cactus sometimes, I wouldn't wish her on my worst enemy."

"Just your best friend?"

Lee grinned at him and dropped his arm off the shelf. "He deserves it."

John laughed as he carefully made his way around the puddle and back to the shelves. Lee stayed close behind him as they reached Riley and Carl. "I'm going outside to make sure Rochelle and Al are ok," John informed them.

Carl barely glanced up from shoving motor oil into his bag. Riley was focused on grabbing washer fluid and anti-freeze. "Take this with you," Carl said as he twisted the top of his bag and handed it to him.

John caught the bag awkwardly. "A please would be nice."

Carl scowled at him as he fumbled with his cigarettes and lit another one. "Please."

John smiled at him and headed out of the store, eager to be free of the stench that permeated the air. He blinked against the sudden influx of light and lifted his hand to try and block it out. His gaze returned to the coffee shop as a clawing sensation began to seize his chest.

He really was an addict, and he didn't care. He glanced up and down the street, but it remained deserted as he made his way to where Rochelle and Al were packing the truck with their newfound supplies. "I'm going to get some coffee before we hit the pharmacy."

Rochelle rested her hand on her hip as she studied him. "How do you plan on making it?"

"The old fashioned way, boiling some water over a fire, but at this point I don't care I might just eat the beans."

Al chortled as Rochelle grimaced. "Gross."

John shrugged and shifted the gun in his hand. "Any requests?"

"You shouldn't go alone, and I wouldn't mind seeing if it was time to make the donuts before all of this happened," Al told him.

"A coffee roll," Rochelle groaned.

"Let's go then."

Al closed and locked the truck doors. They took another glance around the deserted street before making their way to the darkened donut store. John expected the door to be locked and was surprised when it opened beneath his hand. He glanced warily at Al and Rochelle before cautiously sticking his head inside.

"Hello," he called, hating the choked sound of his voice. The scent of baked dough and coffee hung heavily in the air, and though he knew he should be careful he was drawn forward by the promise of donuts and coffee. He still smelled rot, but it didn't seem as potent here and he assumed it was the lingering remnants of it on himself and his ruined clothing. "Hello!"

"I'll stay by the door and watch the vehicles," Al offered.

John nodded as he crept toward the counter. He placed his hands on the countertop and leaned over to try and peer into the back. He couldn't see much of the shadowed kitchen but it appeared to be empty. "It's like a freaking ghost town," he muttered as he slid around the counter. Goosebumps covered his skin, he didn't see anyone, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something or some
one
watching him.

He shuddered as he eyed the donuts and bagels placed neatly into the racks. Surprisingly, none of them had fallen to the floor, but a few of the coffeepots had shattered spilling their contents onto the tile floor. John scowled at the glass and coffee remains, what a waste.

"What is that smell?" Rochelle asked.

"Probably me," he told her. "I don't think I'm ever going to be rid of it."

"Oh, sorry. Can you grab me a coffee roll?" John nodded and grabbed a piece of wax paper from the box on the wall by the donut racks. He pulled the donut off the shelf and handed it over the counter to Rochelle. He found some bags and boxes behind the counter and began to stuff donuts and bagels inside of them. He plopped them on the counter and grabbed handfuls of coffee bags from the display next to the register. He shoved them into a few more bags and turned away in search of some surviving, brewed coffee.

"They're coming out now." John glanced back as Al stepped away from the door and waved his arms toward the rest of the group.

He spotted a full carafe of delicious brown liquid still sitting on one of the burners. "Please don't be decaf," he pleaded as he grabbed the largest cup he could find and honed in on his tempting target. He didn't even care if it was cold.

He was grabbing for the handle when something tugged at his work boot. John frowned as he glanced down. The cup tumbled from his numbed fingers; a strange noise filled the room. It took him a moment to realize that the grunting, almost squealing sounds were coming from him. He couldn't move, and for one heart stopping minute he almost pissed himself.

"John?" Rochelle asked tremulously.

John fumbled for his gun, but his fingers wouldn't work properly as the thing clinging to his work boot somehow managed to lift its bald head on its wobbly, mottled neck. John hadn't been entirely certain that it was human until its rolling, opaque brown eyes, seemed to briefly focus on him.

An anguished moan escaped it as Rochelle began to scream loudly and shrilly. "Help me," the thing croaked. John started shouting as the pitiful thing seized hold of his hand with surprising strength.

 

CHAPTER 2

Mary Ellen

Plainville, Mass.

Mary Ellen couldn't bring herself to look at the destruction surrounding them anymore. She kept her gaze focused on the seat in front of her and her hands folded tightly in her lap. She stared at the back of Xander's head as he swerved in and out of the cars, and around the gaping holes with stalwart precision. She was amazed she wasn't more frightened of him after his breakdown earlier; instead she found she had no fear of him.

He wasn't violent, at least not to other people; of that much she was certain. She knew violent, cruel, people, she'd had far too much experience with them for her liking and Xander wasn't one of them. He was a young man, trying to survive like the rest of them, and he'd witnessed something that she wasn't sure many others would come back from. She certainly wasn't sure that
she
would have.

She couldn't get the image of those bodies out of her mind. She shuddered at the mere thought of having to see those young bodies too, those lives snuffed before they even got started. A lump formed in her throat but she refused to shed tears. She hadn't been brave enough to face what was in those rooms; she wouldn't allow herself to cry now.

Bobby leaned forward and turned the radio on. That awful silence filtered across the waves, interrupted by a burst of static, followed by some squelching before silence again. He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair as he continued to fiddle with the dials. "It doesn't work," she murmured.

BOOK: The Survivor Chronicles (Book 2): The Divide
8.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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