I'm not too fond of the dark. The dark is where they thrive; they seem to move freely without a care, sleeking between shadows like creeps. The dark belongs to the monsters these new beings that took our bodies of family.
Yet, here I was, midnight fast approaching my heart beating so hard I could hear it in my ears, afraid they would hear hear just how loud it was. Yet here I sat in the tall, wild grass, that would be past my hip if I was standing. I was waiting till the two morons, from a group of scavengers that live in the nearby shanty, left the old abandoned store I was here to ransack.
I had found out about a secret basement that could be accessed from behind the check-out counter. I was hoping to find some canned food, maybe some water, and hoping for a safe place to sleep for a night.
The wind blew, rustling the long grass and weeds around me. Its cold fangs dug through the warmth of my trench coat and vest. With the weather dropping, I was looking forward to a "warmish" place to sleep. I pulled the thick warm collar up around my face, hoping between the painter's breathing mask and the coat collar, I could keep some cold off my face. I didn't want anyone to see my breath in this chilled air.
It seemed since then we didn't use cars or lights or technology at the level we used the temperature dropped and continued to. Also, the grass and trees exploded, covering most of the old world in wild nature again.
I sigh in relief, as I watch the two idiots head out of the store: no cans or any other supplies I wanted and needed. I watch the two idiots leave. The big one, maybe 6'2", had short brown hair that looked like it had been cut by a three-year-old. There was a severe scratch-like scar going over his left eye from just beyond the hairline to above his lips. He was in a pair of dirty mud-caked overalls. A bat covered in 7 nails gripped tightly in his meaty hands. His friend was much shorter, around 5'5", and had shoulder-length black hair. An old cloth mask primarily covered up their face and their clothes looked warmer and better suited for scavenging with their black cargo pants, leather, and a backpack. They had a Glock in hand.
These, too, are more dangerous than anything else that roams out here. That's why I stay as still as possible in the grass. While letting the howling wind bite deeply into my bones crouched like a lion waiting to pounce. Because monsters are not the most dangerous thing to roam at night.
As the two moved away, I began to move with diligence. Each step is preplanned and carried out with the knowledge that to mess up is to die horribly at best. So like a tiger stalking its prey, I moved closer. Slowly the grass parts as I step out onto the wide dead street. Bones, branches, and broken automobiles crowded the road, and one wrong step could mean alerting the two scavengers or gods forbid the monsters.
So I move and stay low since my thin, 5'11" frame stands out against the sea of cars. My feet never left the ground as they hurried through the leaves and bones. My process was slow and agonizing, and halfway through, I lost sight of the two scavs. I hope they don't double back. I only brought four knives, and I had already used one against one of the demons in the grass. Its fowl blood now splashed across its blade. It wouldn't be advisable to use it on a scav now since, at best, I'd make another monster; at worse, it happens fast and attacks me.
As I step back up on the sidewalk in front of the store, I double-check for the scavs or any demons or monsters. I don't see anything, so I step threw the broken glass of the storefront—the shards crunching under my boot. The noise was louder than I'd have liked, but it's not like I can drag my feet to clear a path. So I move quickly, moving back behind the store counter. Pulling a straight razor from my toll pouch in my pack, I slice up the carpet pulling it up with a groggy rip. The noise is deafening in the dead quiet of the outside, but I care very little about finding the trap door.
I look up over the counter for a quick second. Wishing I hadn't as I looked into the monster's hollowed eyes. Tattered clothes that looked to belong to a school teacher hung off its body, tattered and coated in dry blood. Her skin was not the healthy glow of the living but a deep grey. I know it's not rotting since this all started 18 months ago, and if it were, they wouldn't be here anymore. The creature's fingers end in bony barbed claws, eyes sunken in skin pulled to give them this hollow look. It dropped to all fours taking in several loud, deep breaths through its nose.
I didn't stay much longer as I pulled up the trap door and dropped inside. I quickly relock it from my side. I turn towards the pitch-black room below. I pull out a glow stick giving it the old "crack and shake," tossing it down into the room. The dim red light spreads quickly. Not seeing anything moving towards the noise, I turn on my flashlight giving me a glance at the room.
In the corner, pallets of canned food stood tall. A few shelves of nonperishable food and seasonings, like jerky and salt, sat beside the can pushed against the wall. A small couch sat in the middle of the room; a mattress sat on the floor behind that, and a small kitchen in front of that. The room was made of solid concrete except for the trip steel grate in the ceiling for airflow.
I move quickly, inspecting the shelves and canned food for any rats or rodents. I was glad to see there weren't any. "Thank you." My raspy voice said to no one as I looked at the food. I'd load up in the morning just enough to survive for a while. But tonight, a good sleep on something that's not a tree.
I settle down on the mattress with a sigh, the springs groaning with my weight. My bag is set off to the side, I pull the giant knife I had on me, an 8-inch full tang combat K-bar, and I set it down close on top of my backpack. The other three blades follow the two 3-inch curved knives from my thighs and my 4-inch Buck knife that had been used on the monster earlier. I take a cloth and some oil and soap out of my bag. I quickly began to polish the blade, cleaning it from the monster's blood.
I heard a commotion above in the store where I saw the monster coming in. But it wasn't the sound of a monster moving about. There were Gunshots and a banging on the door.
"Someone down here!?" A big grumbly voice called out, "Please open up!"
I rush to the door, the Buck knife in my palm; I quickly spin it into a reverse grip. "Get out of here!"
"No, man, please, let us in. There are many Z's out there!" I heard the big lug's voice.
"Quite literally fuck off!"
"If you don't open up we will die! Where's your humanity?" I hear a feminine voice call out.
"You come down here you could kill me!"
"If you don't, you're killing us!" the girl called out. With a growl, I unlock the door by lifting the trap door. As I do so, a demon jumps the counter. The girl falls down the stairs as the man holds back the demon's head with the bat. I stab the knife into the side of the demon's head. I grab the larger man, yanking him in slamming and latching the trap door. I quickly checked the man over and gave him a quick pat-down.
I grabbed the gun the woman had, dropping the magazine and cleared the chamber. With two swift actions the guns was taken apart in two three pieces. I toss it on the couch. "Fuck I lost my knife." The deep growl that ripped from my throat as I grab my K-bar. "Tell me why I had to save y'all?"
The girl, her mask now gone, looked shell-shocked as she scrambled away up against the wall. The large, scared man stands between her and me on shaky legs. "Don't hurt her!" he grumbled in a deep baritone voice with a slow draw. You sound more from being slow and stupid or slow than being from the south.
"I'm not going to. Your guns on the couch. I have the firing pin and the magazine. I don't want trouble." I dropped back to the mattress, the springs groaning as I fell.
I heard the woman stand up scrabbling to the couch. A sigh of relief blew out between her lips. She quickly slid it back together as the man approached the food wall.
"Luna There 'nuf food for the grou' here!" The man shouted.
"Billy, it's not ours, and he's letting us stay here."
"It's not mine, girly. I paid for information about an old safe house. The dude said he was CIA, so I gave him three D batteries, and he gave me this address."
She rolls her eyes at me saying, "Then you don't mind us taking it back?"
"Whatever I leave behind when I pack up to leave you can have." I tapped my knife against my black cargo pants-covered thigh. I stand up walking to the shelf looking it over. Billy backed away as I approached, not trusting the man and other the large knife. Being that man, I didn't blame him. I was fully ready to gut him if he moved against me.
I looked over the shelf with an appraising eye that I hadn't earlier since I thought I had more time. I grab the two packs of jerky and the trail mix. These were the most important to me since I kept on the road.
I slide them into my bag breathing a sigh of relief knowing I'd have at least this. The blade spins between my fingers as I watch them pull the couch towards the other end of the room. "So Luna is it?" She nods from the couch across the room. "You with the Scavs at the edge of Groveport out by the old Truck yards. Or are you from those Raiders in Columbus of the river and old I70?"
"Neither," the slow draw of Billy calls out, "we from the Old Dominion."
"Old Dominion freight yard. We used the existing fence and a bunch of those trailers stacked against it. It is fairly safe and since we got a few ex-cops and formal National Guard's men with rifles that the raiders don't come near."
I nod my head. I new about the group having come down all the way from Chicago. "Good to know y'all have any gasoline or spare guns?"
"We might."
"I'll help bring the food over in the morning in exchange for talking to someone about it." I throw the magazine over to them.