The Zombie Zovels (Book 1): Zombie Suburbia (14 page)

“You're bleeding,” I said, realizing it was blood.
He was wearing a black hoodie so I couldn't see how bad it was. I started lifting his hoodie at the
hem and he obligingly held up his arms and let me slide it up, along with his T-shirt, and over his
head. He turned his head and looked at his shoulder.
“You got shot!” I said, a little shocked he wasn't freaking out about this.
I checked both sides of his shoulder, finding an entrance wound and an exit wound. The bullet had
gone straight through. “Why didn't you tell me you'd gotten shot?”
“Because I didn't want to stop. We needed to get away from that place.”
“They're not going to drive out this far. They won't waste the gas. You should have stopped sooner.”
I dug around in my bag, searching for my First Aid kit. It was one of the few things I still had. He
balled his T-shirt up and used it to clean off some of the blood, and pressed it against the wound.
“You're such an idiot sometimes. You could bleed to death.”
Okay, so I may have exaggerated, but it still wasn't good to be losing this much blood.
I took the T-shirt from him and dabbed the wounds. The exit wound appeared ragged and was
bleeding a lot more than where the bullet had entered through the front of his shoulder. Five minutes
later, the bleeding continued and didn't look like it was about to let up anytime soon. I thought about
just putting a clean dressing over the top but it would most likely bleed straight through in minutes.
“How bad is it?”
“Um, well, I'm not a nurse so I can't really answer that.”
“Do you think I'll live?” he asked, trying to reach over and touch the exit wound.
I smacked his hand away.
“Don't touch it with your dirty paws.”
He grunted and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
I leaned over him, pressing the T-shirt back onto the wound, after a few minutes I carefully lifted it
back up.
“The exit wound isn't slowing down.” I said as Lane sat up again, and I had to mop up another
trickle of blood from dripping all the way down his back.
“I think it needs a few stitches to hold it together.”
“What?
Stitches
? Are you sure?”
“No, I'm not sure, I have no idea, Lane, I'm not trained for this. But it won't stop bleeding.”
I opened up the First Aid kit and pulled out a needle and thread, and Lane's eyes widened.
“It's just leaking down your back, and I don't have enough gauze to change every five minutes. If I
stick a couple of stitches in, it will at least hold it together for now. I don't even have any alcohol to
disinfect anything... shit, you're probably going to die from infection at this rate.”
“That's reassuring.” He pointed at his bag.“There's a bottle at the bottom of my bag.”
“You managed to steal some alcohol?”
“Yup. I wasn't planning on you using it for First Aid, though.”
“I bet you weren't planning on getting shot either?”
I pulled out the bottle which was half full.
“Smokes are in the side pocket,” he said, pointing again, and holding his hand out.
“When I said get supplies, I meant food, water, maybe a few pieces of cutlery. I didn't mean smokes
and liquor.”
I slapped the pack of smokes into his hand.
“Easy
nurse
. I'm the patient, remember?”
“You're an idiot, that's what you are.”
“So you keep saying,” he grumbled, pulling out his lighter. “It was either Scottie or us.”
“His gun wasn't even loaded.” I snapped.
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“You killed him!”
“He would have killed us. I made a decision and went with it. I was trying to save you.”
“
Save me
. I don't need anyone saving me. I was doing fine until you showed up, since then I've been
chased, cornered, trapped, and nearly bitten by zombies. I'm the one that has to take care of you, I
mean look at this, this isn't going to stitch itself.”
I cleaned the needle and threaded it and stared at the open wound. Then I picked up the bottle and
tipped some over the wound. Lane gritted his teeth, trying to be a big man about it. I handed the
bottle to him.
“You should drink that. We can get more alcohol.”
“Is this going to hurt?” he asked, tipping the bottle back.
“What do you think?”
“Do you even know what you're doing?”
“Me and my mom loved watching all the different hospital programs. I think I can do this, and I
have experience.”
“Experience?”
“I used to stitch little outfits for our Yorkshire Terrier when I was little.”
Lane shook his head and took another swig. “Just do it and get it over with.” he said, lighting a
cigarette.
I pushed the needle in and tried my best to put on a brave face, but inside, I was gagging. I hated
blood, and I hated TV medical shows. I lied. I'd never watched any hospital related TV shows,
neither had my mom. But I had stitched outfits for our little dog, Rufus, and I was quite good at
needlework. I just wasn't used to stitching skin.
I started stitching the wound, in-between scanning the trees for any movement or figures. Lane had
nearly finished the bottle and not said a word... except for the odd curse word.
“I can't believe you shot Scottie,” I said, sticking the needle in a little harder than necessary. Lane
winced but didn't respond.
“Lane... Lane!”
“What?” he grunted, flicking his cigarette into the trees.
“You're not saying anything?”
“So?”
“So? Don't you have anything to say about it? You just shot a human being in the head. You make a
big ass deal about killing a zombie, but you had no problem killing a human.”
“He was going to shoot us or blow the whistle on us. I didn't have a choice.”
“I didn't even know you could shoot, then you go and do that, right between the...” I trailed off.
“I used to go shooting at your father's gun range on the weekends. Aside from teaching at the
university, my dad also loved guns. Every Saturday we went, I always hoped I'd run into you.”
“I worked at the Riverside Hotel on the weekends. I usually went shooting after school on
Tuesdays.”
“I didn't know you worked there.”
I shrugged. “
Did.
I didn't like it and the manager was a real dick... I would give anything to go back,
though.”
I finished stitching the hole and tied it off neatly. Lane turned his shoulder inwards, inspecting my
needlework. We were silent for a few moments, but I couldn't stay quiet for too long. I was still
upset over Scottie.
“If it had been any of the others I wouldn't care, but Scottie... it was just wrong.”
I cleaned the needle and placed it back in the box with the thread, then I cleaned up around the
wound the best I could and placed a gauze dressing over the top.
I moved around to the front of him and cleaned the entrance wound.
“I didn't know you had the hots for Scottie.” he said, looking up at me.
“Scottie wasn't like the rest of them. You know that. He was one of the decent ones. We should have
waited and come up with a better escape plan.”
“You really wanted to stay longer?”
“Food, water, roof,” I said, ripping the tape to secure the gauze. “Now we're outside and you're
wounded.”
“How long?”
I ignored him and busied myself covering his wound.
“How long before that scumbag dragged you into his bed?”
“If it meant we still had a place to stay it might not have been so bad.”
“Are you kidding? That place was worse than jail. Would you have been willing to let him do that to
you?”
I pretended not to hear him and tidied the First Aid supplies away.
“Maybe you could have told him you were a virgin, he might have got a kick out of it.”
“How would you know I'm a virgin?” I snapped.
“Alex... I'm not a complete idiot. You never dated for too long and I'm sure your ex-military gun
crazy dad scared most guys away from asking you on a date.”
“He was protective. And, so what, I'm a virgin, we're not all as experienced as the famous Lane
Walker.”
“What's that supposed to mean,” he said.
“Yeah, I heard all about you and Katherine-fucking-Slater... and the rest of them. I think the whole
school heard about it. I spent days consoling Pip, trying to convince her it was just a stupid rumor.”
“Pip?” he said, frowning.
“Yes, Pip. She was obsessed with you. Lane this... Lane that... You didn't even know she existed.”
“I-I didn't know.”
“Too busy fucking Katherine no doubt.”
Damn me and my mouth vomit.
“It was one time. It didn't mean anything,” he said, reaching for me, I moved away and went back to
my bag to pack the supplies away.
“Alex... Where is all this coming from? Did I do something else to upset you?”
“Lane, it's okay, you don't have to explain yourself to me.”
I felt the twisting deep down inside of me. I secretly hoped Katherine had been eaten by zombies or
was one herself, her perfect hair would be a mess by now and her nails would be all chipped... Ugh!
What was wrong with me. I knew this feeling...
I pulled out a water bottle from Lane's bag and took a mouthful, angling my face away from him.
I could feel my cheeks burning. I was jealous, but I didn't want him to see it.
“Did you sleep with Carmen?” I blurted.
“What? Carmen?”
“Yes, Carmen, the skinny blond that flirted with you every day and followed you around.”
“No. I didn't sleep with Carmen.” he said.
I grunted a laugh.
“Really?” I scoffed.
“Yes, really, I didn't sleep with her. I think she was into someone else.”
“Who?” I asked, standing up to face him.
“Scottie.” he replied.
“Scottie? Her step-brother?”
“Yes, Scottie, not unless there was another Scottie I didn't know about. I caught them in the shower
together.”
“I caught Carmen in the corridor with Dom the first night we stayed there, she was sleeping with
him aswell.”
“Keeping it in the family.” Lane said.
I turned away again, trying to steady my breathing, and calm down. My thoughts were all over the
place. I dug around in my bag, I didn't even know what I was looking for.
“Alex... Alex! Would you just.... stop that... look at me, please.”
I sniffed and wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve, the cold weather was already playing
havoc with my bodily fluids.
“You may have been okay with it, but I wasn't. I wasn't going to let him or any of the others do that
to you... or do anything to you if I'm completely honest.”
I stood up and stretched my legs and walked back to him.
“Do you want some?” I asked, holding the water bottle out to him.
He stared at me, but didn't take the bottle, then I realized he was still shirtless.
“You should put something on, you're going to freeze.”
I went to get another T-shirt from his bag, but he stopped me, wrapping his hand around my wrist
and pulling me back to him. He grabbed my jacket with his other hand bringing me closer to him,
between his legs. He took the water bottle from me and set it down, then he grabbed my waist with
both hands before I could get away from him.
“Don't,” I said.
“Don't what?”
“Don't look after me. I don't need you saving me.”
“What if you don't get a choice in the matter?”
He looked up at me and wrapped one arm around my lower back, and the other brushed past the
side of my face and into my loose hair. I shook my head, knowing where this was going.
“I can't.” I protested, placing both hands on his chest.
“Don't give me that '
attachment'
crap,” he said, moving his hand to the side of my face and cupping
my cheek. “I know you feel the same way.”
“It doesn't matter what I feel, because when you become attached to someone you start risking your
life for them.”
“Well, I'm not asking for your permission. If I want to risk my life for you then I will.” he said
firmly.
“I don't want to get attached to you.”
It wasn't the whole truth. All I wanted was for him to wrap his strong arms around me and hold onto
me forever. But it couldn't happen.
“Why? Because I might be dead in a week? So could you.” he said.
I dropped my gaze to his shoulder, touching the top of the dressing. I really hoped he wouldn't get
an infection.
“I think it's a little late for getting attached.” he added.
He lifted my chin and turned me to face him. He was right, but I wasn't going to admit it.
He then pushed both his hands into my hair, pulling my face closer to him until my body was
pressed up against his. My hands slipped around his neck, for support more than anything, I didn't
want to topple forward onto him. His eyes flickered to my lips then back to my eyes. Lane's eyes
were the color of ivy leaves and they completely mesmerized me. Looking into them now I could
see the longing behind them. Before I knew what was happening his lips were on mine.
I knew I should pull away, this wouldn't end well. This wasn't a fairytale, there were no happy
endings for us. The only ending we both faced was getting eaten by a zombie or turning into one. I
didn't kiss him back. I wanted to, oh, how I wanted to. I didn't want to feel this way about Lane. If
anything was to happen to him I would be devastated. I had already lost so much. Falling in love
with Lane wasn't an option. He stopped and looked at me, still holding my face in his hands.
“Are you okay to drive?” I asked casually, trying to pretend Lane's kiss didn't affect me. “I saw a
sign for a motel a little way back. It shouldn't be too far from here.”
He looked at me like he hadn't heard me.
“Lane?”
“No, yeah, I saw it. I should be fine to get us there, then I can crash.”
“Okay,” I nodded in agreement, stepping back, his hand fell to my wrist and held onto my fingers
for a few moments before I pulled away. I dug out a spare T-shirt and tossed it to him. He pulled it
on, then picked up his hoodie from the ground, inspecting it. He pulled it over his head nonetheless.
Hopefully, the next stop would have clean clothes, or, at least, running water so I could wash his
blood-soaked hoodie for him. Lane started the bike and I picked up our bags and positioned them on
my back and across my body. I climbed on behind Lane, momentarily forgetting he had been shot in
the shoulder.
“Sorry!” I said, lifting my hand away from his shoulder, and looping it around his waist. We drove
back along the small dirt track and pulled back onto the main road.

After another ten minutes of driving, the sign for the motel came into view,
Autumn Creek Motel
,
with an arrow pointing left. We turned onto another small dirt road that hadn't been maintained,
with overgrown tree branches hanging down and weeds sprouting through the road. Along the road,
I spotted an odd shoe, newspaper pages scattered in the mud, empty soda cans, and a
bone
. I wasn't
sure if it was human or not, so I quickly diverted my eyes. There was also an abandoned car, Lane
slowed down as we passed. It looked in good condition, but the hood was propped up, so it
obviously wasn't running.
He slowed down and stopped a good distance away from the motel. I counted twelve individual
rooms and the main reception area at the end. There was even a vending machine with sodas still
inside. I climbed off and looked around. Everything was eerily quiet. A gust of wind whipped the
ends of my hair around my face and I quickly took the hair elastic off my wrist and tied my hair
back into a ponytail. All the doors were closed, which I was surprised about. When we normally
came across an abandoned building, doors were usually left open from previous people raiding the
place and garbage normally littered the ground, this place looked untouched, minus the possible
human shaped bone back on the road. Lane grabbed the rucksack on my back before I could walk
off. I slipped it off my shoulders and he rummaged around inside it.
“It's so quiet.” I said, slowly walking over to the decking that ran alongside the rooms, leading to
the main office at the end.
“That's because everyone's dead genius.” Lane said.
I looked back at him, he smirked at me and lit another cigarette, but stayed on the bike. I stepped up
onto the decking, my boots knocked against the wood. I peeked inside a window, but the net
curtains on the other side stopped me from seeing inside.
I moved to the nearest door but hesitated before grabbing the doorknob. I had no weapon
whatsoever. The only thing I had on me was my bare hands. Lane appeared beside me, holding my
gun in both his hands, pointing it at the ground, like one of those cops on TV, except Lane had a
cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Only use the gun if you really have to, okay?”
He nodded. And I twisted the doorknob. It was locked.
“It's locked.” I said.
Lane walked to the next room. Room #8. He tried the doorknob. “Locked as well.” he said, before
walking to the next room. We continued to check all the doors. All twelve rooms were locked.
“Maybe the owners just left it and took off. I don't think many other people would come down here
otherwise. It's a bit creepy.” I said, looking at the dense trees in front.
Lane swayed and leaned against the wall for support. The drink finally taking effect.
“Stay here. I'm gonna go check the reception desk. Hopefully, that door isn't locked.”
The main reception and office area had a glass door, and I really didn't want to have to break the
glass, creating noise and drawing unwanted attention to us.
“Take this.” he said, holding the gun out to me.
“No, you keep it. I don't think you're in any fit state to fight off a zombie at the moment.”
He tried to hand me the gun again, but I pushed him back to the wall and he slouched against it, he
wasn't in the mood to fight with me so he didn't argue with me.
“Stay,” I said, hopping back onto the dirt, not liking the sound my boots were making along the
decking. I reached the glass door. Inside the office looked immaculate. Leaflets sat neatly on top of
the main desk next to a small bell. The only thing that looked untidy was the wilted dead flowers in
a vase on the table. The door was locked. I pushed off the glass and stepped back, looking around
my feet for anything I could throw through the door. There was a dead potted plant in a medium
size blue pot. It would do. I lifted it up and hoisted it into my arms. I was about to throw it through
the door when I saw a small key on the decking that had been hidden under the pot.
No way!
I thought.
It couldn't be that easy to break into a motel reception, could it?
I put the pot back down and picked up the key. I looked back at Lane, he was leaning against the
wall with his head tipped back. I wasn't sure if he was dozing. The key fit straight into the lock. I
twisted it and let myself in. I walked around the main desk, on top sat a computer, a phone, and a
novel left open face down. The room keys were hung up on the wall behind me. I grabbed room #9
because it was the closest to where Lane was standing. Behind the reception desk was another
room, a small kitchen with a table and two chairs. I checked all the cupboards and found an
unopened box of
Cheerios
, tea bags, coffee, and a couple of packets of cookies. There was even a
First Aid kit. There was a fridge, but I didn't bother to open it, everything inside would be spoiled
by now. I found a grocery bag and filled it with cutlery and what I considered edible, and walked
back out to the reception area. There was a small toilet room at the end. I grabbed the toilet roll, the
small towel that was hanging up, and the handwash, and stuffed them into the grocery bag, not
knowing what would be in the motel room. I pulled the reception door closed and walked back to
Lane. Just before I reached him a gust of wind blew something across the ground toward me. I
quickly jumped off the decking and put my boot on it before it could blow away. I bent over and
picked it up. It was a map. A very dirty, tatty and torn map, but it was a map nonetheless. I quickly
folded it up and slid it into the grocery bag.
“Room #9 and I've got some treats in the bag.” I said, stopping in front of him.
“Treats?”
“Unopened box of cereal, toilet roll, and even a packet of chocolate chip cookies.”
Lane took the key and unlocked the door. We both shuffled inside and looked around. The bed was
made and everything looked neat and tidy. I checked the bathroom, a bathtub with a shower and a
toilet, with clean towels laid out.
Lane shut the door and locked it again. I peeked out through the net curtains, everything still looked
peaceful, thankfully. Lane pulled his hoodie over his head and kicked off his hi-tops, then he pulled
the bedsheets back and climbed in. I stripped off my own jacket and hoodie, then took off my boots,
made a quick trip to the bathroom and was amazed to find the water was still running clear. I
washed Lane's blood off my hands, then went back into the room and pulled the curtains shut, and
crawled into bed beside him.
“I don't think the zombies know about this place. Maybe we can stay here. ” he mumbled into the
pillow.
He opened one eye to look at me.
“Or until we run out of food.” I said, edging closer to him under the covers. I was still cold, and
Lane was always like a walking furnace, so I edged a bit closer to him.
After a few moments, he slid his hand across my stomach, causing it to clench. He hooked his arm
around me and pulled me even closer to him. I rolled onto my side and Lane pressed his whole body
against my back, molding us together, keeping his arm securely around my waist, and I snuggled
down into the pillow. He was so close I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. We laid
in silence and not too long after Lane's breathing changed and I could tell he was asleep. I sighed,
enjoying the comfort of the bed... and the company. The last proper bed I had slept in had been my
own. I had since slept in trees, inside the trunks of abandon cars, on makeshift cots, or the last place
which was just a sleeping bag with a mat underneath on the floor. But I still missed sleeping in a
bed every night.