Ryan's Luck (Death's Children - A Zombie Apocalypse Serial Book 2) Page 2

  “What took you so long?” she asked. “I need to go.”

  “Hold your horses,” Ryan said. “I haven't checked the bathrooms yet.”

  “Hurry,” she said, jumping up and down on the seat.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, turning away.

  This time, Jonathan did not accompany him, choosing instead to walk around the building looking for more stuff. It didn't bother him, though, his confidence bolstered by his earlier victory.

  With his fingers curled tightly around the handle of the umbrella, Ryan crossed the ground toward the steel doors that announced it was for ladies.

  When he reached it, he hesitated once more. A silent prayer rattled around in his brain. No more zombies, please.

  He reached for the handle.

  Ryan pushed the door open with a rusty squeak.

  A slender figure jumped at him through the gap, fingers curled to grab him. With a cry, Ryan fell onto his back. The zombie fell on top of him, its raspy groan filling his ears. Long black hair fell across his face as it leaned down for a bite of his flesh. In the distance, he heard Kerry's shrieks, but all his attention was focused on the woman trying to eat him.

  She snapped her teeth, growling like a rabid mongrel. The umbrella lay across his chest, and he used it as a shield to keep her at bay. Her hands latched onto his shirt and pulled. Man, she's strong!

  His eyes fixed on her lips, drawn back to expose the canines. The ivory incisors gnashed at the air, coming ever closer. His arms trembled, the muscles weakening underneath her onslaught. She would get him, he was sure of it. Just one more centimeter.

  Suddenly, her head slewed to the side, and her eyes popped wide open. Above her stood Jonathan, wielding the jack like a baseball bat. Two more blows cracked her skull like a rotten egg. Brain matter splattered across Ryan's shirt and face. With a final yell, Jonathan kicked her body to the side and offered Ryan a hand.

  “Sorry I'm late,” he said with a cheeky grin.

  Ryan gulped and allowed Jonathan to help him up. He dusted off his pants, nose wrinkling at the foul-smelling gunk on his clothes. A quick look at the zombie's smashed skull didn't help, and he had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting. Not in front of Jonathan.

  His friend, meanwhile, had searched the toilet and ascertained it was empty. “It's safe; she can come out now.”

  Ryan nodded and waved at his sister. “Hey, Kerry. Come on.”

  She jumped out of the car and ran over, her hair bouncing on her back. Without saying a word, she rushed into the restroom, and a second later a stall door slammed shut.

  “Boy, when you gotta go, you gotta go, I guess,” Jonathan said. He waved Ryan inside. “Go clean up, man. You stink.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ryan mumbled. He pulled off his shirt and rinsed it in the wash basin before wringing it out and slipping it back on. The damp cloth clung to his skin, but he didn't care. At least, it was cool. As long as the zombie brains are gone, I'm good.

  Kerry came out of the stall to wash her hands and face. Her expression was miserable, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “You okay, sis?”

  “No.” Her mouth trembled, but to her credit, she didn't cry. “Mom and Dad are dead, and you almost...you almost...”

  “Hey, now, it's not that bad,” he said even though it was. “We're still here, aren't we?”

  “I know.” She sniffed and nodded.

  “Mom wouldn't want you to be sad, would she?”

  “No.”

  He patted her on the back. “So let's not be sad then.”

  “Okay.” She managed a tremulous smile, and he reflected that she was handling the whole situation better than he was.

  Ryan led her outside where Jonathan stood waiting, and together they walked to the car. After filling up the tank with petrol, they set off once more.

  Once they were on the road, Ryan leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Bloemhof wasn't far, and he had no idea what awaited them there. Can't be good, though. Nothing is anymore.

  Chapter 3

  Twenty minutes later they approached the sleepy little town of Bloemhof. It basked in the late afternoon sun as if nothing cataclysmic had ever happened. The streets were deserted except for a few cars, and all was quiet.

  For a few seconds, Ryan allowed himself to hope that the place was untouched by the plague ravishing the country. That everything was still fine, and they'd find grown-ups to help them out of this mess. Or better yet, that the whole thing was just a bad dream.

  A shuffling figure dashed his hopes. They drove past the shambling monstrosity as if in a dream. It turned a half-eaten face toward them and ran after the car on a broken leg. The limb flopped and twisted, the sharp ends of the bone poking through the flesh.

  “That is so gross!” Kerry said, her face pressed to the glass.

  Ryan turned away and faced the front. That single sight of a human being ignoring all pain, all reasonable limits of humanity, dashed his hopes with an abruptness that was final. It is not a dream. It never was. Nothing will ever be the same again.

  “It's real, isn't it?” he said, not expecting a real answer, but his friend surprised him for once.

  “Yeah, it is,” Jonathan answered, his expression somber.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We need a place to stay for the night.”

  “Where?” Ryan looked at Kerry. She was so young, so scared, and now she looked at him with such trust that he felt helpless. How would he ever keep her safe?

  “What about that?” Jonathan asked, pointing toward an old hotel.

  Ryan considered it and tried to think as a responsible older brother should. The street was deserted for now, and the building looked sturdy, but what about the inside? “What about the guests? And the staff?”

  “Good point,” Jonathan conceded. “There could be too many for us to take on, crappily armed as we are.”

  “What about that?” Kerry asked. They turned to look at the small grocery shop she had spotted. The doors were shut and the glass clear except for a few posters. Shelves lined the floor. Jonathan slowed, and they craned their necks for a look. Nothing appeared to move inside.

  “It could work,” Ryan said. “If we keep real quiet.”

  “Yeah, okay. Let's check it out,” Jonathan said.

  He pulled over, and the boys got out, each armed with their makeshift weapons. “Wait here, sis.”

  She nodded and hunched down in the seat.

  They approached the store with nervous steps and looked through the glass again. The aisles seemed clear; everything stacked neatly and in place.

  “Here goes,” Jonathan said, opening the door.

  It swung open on silent hinges, and they stepped inside. Ryan took a cautious sniff. The air was clean. No hints of rot or decay. A good sign.

  He cleared his throat. “Hello?”

  The word echoed throughout the empty shop. Nothing answered.

  Ryan blew out a relieved breath. “It's empty.”

  “You take that side, while I go down here,” Jonathan answered. “Let's make one hundred percent sure. No nasty surprises.”

  “Okay.”

  Ryan took his half and made his way between the shelves, checking every nook and cranny. Everything was tidy. It looked as if the owner had just stepped out for a moment. The absolute quiet was unnerving, but at least it was clean, free of the nightmarish blood that was sure to haunt his dreams.

  Once he reached the back, he ascertained there were no other rooms or exits. All he found was a smooth brick wall. Not even a toilet or supply closet. He guessed it had been a one-man business and the owner bailed when trouble reared its head.

  Jonathan had finished checking his side and jerked his head toward the front. “Let's get Kerry and settle down for the night.”

  “Sounds good,” Ryan agreed.

  They fetched their things before hurrying inside. The sun was beginning to set, and Ryan did not want to be out on the streets at night. From what he'd seen
, the zombies were more active after dark.

  “We need to block the door and the glass,” he noted. “What if they see us?”

  “Yeah, how about using the shelves?”

  “Could work.”

  Together, they emptied a metal rack and dragged it over. It covered half of the front of the shop, and they repeated the action for the other half. Afterward, they loaded the shelves with the bulkiest items they could find, obscuring the clear glass and barricading the door. It cast the interior of the shop in deep gloom, broken only by strands of gold that filtered through the gaps in their make-shift wall.

  They settled down in the back with their pilfered goods from the fruit and veg stall, passing around cold drinks and fresh fruit. None of them said anything, their thoughts as depressing as their surroundings. It was Kerry who broke the silence at last by asking, “Ryan, are we staying here the whole night?”

  “Yes, we are, sis.”

  “But...” She looked around in consternation. “Where will we do our business?”

  It was a fair question. He stared at Jonathan, stumped. His friend shrugged. “We'll figure something out.”

  Which they did. Upon scouring the racks, Ryan found buckets and shower curtains folded and wrapped up in plastic. With these, he enclosed the furthest corner from their sleeping places and placed the bucket there as a poor replacement for a toilet. Kerry was not happy with the arrangement, but with no other options available it had to do.

  They fashioned beds out of newspaper and dishcloths with bags of rice for pillows. There was plenty of bottled water to wash with and the shop even boasted toothpaste and brushes, much to Ryan's delight. After two days, his mouth had begun to taste like pond scum.

  After a hearty supper of canned spaghetti and meatballs, they curled up to sleep. Jonathan nodded off straight away. He'd always been a heavy sleeper, a trait Ryan envied. He, himself, had trouble following suit.

  Instead, he lay on his back and stared into the darkness. His ears twitched at every little sound he heard, his fears turning ordinary creaks and rattles into monstrous zombies leering at them through the windows.

  He imagined them licking their lips, grinning at the thought of their fresh, young blood. His mind conjured up visions of what it would feel like when they ate him. The intense pain he'd experience. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, and he felt ashamed for being such a coward. Why can't I be more like Jonathan?

  He remembered the arcade. The screams and blood and guts. The eager little fingers that dug through meat and the grinning smiles of the blood-spattered kids.

  It had been Jonathan who got him out. Jonathan who stole their ride. Jonathan who navigated the streets and scavenged food and water from houses and abandoned cars. It was also Jonathan who saved him from that woman at the farm stall. I'm just a weakling. I'm nothing like him.

  The hours passed with excruciating slowness, each second longer than the last. He wondered what had happened to his teachers, and to his other school friends. An image of Shannon, the most popular girl in his grade, rose to haunt him. He'd always had a thing for her, and had planned on asking her out even though his chances were laughable. I mean, I was going to, wasn't I? But she's dead now, just like everybody else.

  At last, pure exhaustion dragged his lids shut and forced him to sleep. Even then, his dreams were filled with blood and horror, his mind a frightened hostage to terror.

  Hours later, a hand shook him awake. He jerked upright with a frightened gasp, and his heart bolted around in his chest like a racehorse.

  “It's me, Ryan,” Kerry whispered.

  “What's wrong?” he asked as he blinked the fog from his eyes.

  “I'm scared.”

  He looked at her pale face barely visible in the pre-dawn light. “Don't worry; I'm here.”

  “I miss Mom and Dad,” she continued.

  He sighed. “I miss them too.”

  “Can I sleep with you?”

  “Of course.” He scooted over. She lay next to him, and her little body shivered with cold or fright or both. He gathered her into his arms and hoped his presence would soothe her. After a while, her breathing evened out, and she fell asleep.

  Once more, Ryan lay awake, staring at the ceiling. This time, though, he noticed a subtle difference in his emotions. The overwhelming fear was gone, replaced instead by the sober reality that he was responsible for the fragile human being that lay next to him. He had to be strong for her. He was all she had now.

  I can do this, he realized. For her, I can be brave. I have to be.

  Chapter 4

  When morning broke, Ryan was ready. Ready to take on the zombies and find a safe place for Kerry to live. Determination had taken root in his mind and fueled his limbs with fresh energy.

  “So do you even know where this place is you and your dad went fishing?” he asked in a hushed tone of voice.

  “I think I can find it again,” Jonathan replied.

  “Right. Before we leave, we should pack as much as we can. Who knows how long we have to last on our own.”

  “Good thinking,” Jonathan said.

  They gathered up as much useful stuff as they could and piled it up beside the door in bags. Ryan peered through a gap in the barricade, his eyes sweeping up and down the street. It looked clear enough. The only danger he spotted was a zombie wandering around much further down. It was a threat, but if they hurried, they could get out without it noticing them.“We can make a run for it, I think.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Jonathan said.

  Ryan turned to Kerry. “When we open the door, you run straight for the car, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Don't stop for anything.”

  She nodded.

  He turned to Jonathan. “You didn't lock it, did you?”

  “Nope, no point. Who'd steal it anyway?”

  “Good,” Ryan said. He took hold of one side of the shelving. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Jonathan answered while taking the other.

  “Now!”

  Together they heaved the thing away from the front door with a hair-raising squeal of metal on the tile floors. With the umbrella held in front of him, Ryan peered outside again then opened the door. A quick glance confirmed that the front was clear, and he waved Kerry out. “Go, now. Get in and shut the door.”

  She ran out, her mussed up hair catching the sun with glints of chestnut brown. On her back, she carried a pack filled with a few necessary things for her, just in case. A torch with new batteries, matches, food, water, and toiletries. It echoed the rest of their supplies and would tide them over for a spell.

  Kerry jumped into the back of the car while Ryan watched. He blew out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and dared a glance at the zombie down the street. It still ambled around without purpose, unaware of Kerry darting across the sidewalk. So far, so good.

  He jerked his head at Jonathan, and the two scooped up several bags each. With the plastic handles cutting into his fingers, Ryan ran out of the shop toward the boot of the car. He dropped half his load and fumbled for the keys. It was an awkward business with the umbrella tucked beneath his armpit and the other hand still holding a bunch of stuff, but he managed. The trunk popped open.

  Together they tossed in their loot and sprinted back for more. Kerry followed their progress with wide eyes from the backseat. Ryan grabbed a few more bags and rushed back to dump it, followed closely by Jonathan. On the third and final trip, Kerry yelled something to Ryan just as he shut the lid of the trunk.

  A raspy growl rang in his ears followed by a claw-like hand gripping his shoulder. He screamed with fright and twisted to the side. The fingers let go, and he ducked beneath the zombie's swinging arms.

  Jonathan gave the thing a hard push, and it toppled over. Together they scrambled for the doors and ducked into the car, breathing hard. The zombie was left behind to mourn the loss of its meal as they drove off.

  Jonathan shot Ryan a grin. “Let's not do that agai
n.”

  Ryan didn't bother to answer, merely shaking his head as the buildings of the small community flashed past. One fact bothered him, though. “We need proper weapons. We can't keep skating past on dumb luck alone.”

  “Like guns?” Jonathan raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I've never used a gun before, but I’d sure like one.”

  “I have. My dad took me shooting a few times, but that's not what I mean.”

  “What then?”

  “Pull over.”

  “What?” Jonathan asked.

  “Over here by the hardware shop.”

  Understanding dawned on Jonathan's face. “Oh, I see. You mean like hammers and stuff.”

  “Yup. Anything to keep those things away from us. Bash in their brains and so on,” Ryan replied while he eyed the street.

  “Now you're talking!” Jonathan hefted his car jack, a bulky and inefficient weapon to Ryan's mind.

  Not that I'm doing much better with this, he thought as he gripped the dumb umbrella that had nevertheless saved his life twice already.

  “Wait here, Kerry,” he said after taking a careful look around. The only thing in the vicinity was a wrecked car, but the occupants were missing.

  “I want to go with you.”

  “No, you have to stay here.”

  “I can help.” Her mouth set into that stubborn line he knew so well. The one where she'd follow him no matter what.

  “Please, Kerry. Stay here.” He cast around in his mind for a convincing argument and struck on one he thought might work. “You can help me a lot more right here from the car.”

  Her brows furrowed. “How so?”

  “By keeping watch. If you see something come, blow the hooter, okay?”

  Her face filled with eagerness. “I can do that.”

  “Good.” He chucked her under the chin. “There's my brave little sis.”

  She beamed at him, a simple gesture that warmed his heart and refreshed his determination to find her a safe home. At least until the government or the army or whoever could sort everything out. If they ever do.