Highway To Hell (Dying Days Book 1) by Rosamilia Armand

Author:Rosamilia, Armand [Rosamilia, Armand]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Rymfire Books
Published: 2013-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

XIII

At first Randy thought the knocking was in his dream, but realized he was awake. The banging might have been his pounding head. He was sprawled out on the floor of the pharmacy naked.

The noises were coming from the other side of the door, out in the hallway. Randy rose with a start and almost passed out as his head swam. Now he could hear the moaning. He was amazed that the door, already broken from yesterday, had held.

“Becca?”

She was gone. He instinctively knew it. The backpacks were gone as well as most of the food and water. He felt stupid but he ignored the attack on the door and searched in vain for a letter, some Dear John note scrawled on a mirror or a scrap of paper. There was nothing.

The room smelled of sex. He’d been reluctant at first but the pills, and her excitement had made him a more than willing participant. They’d fallen asleep on the floor naked, wrapped around one another. The drugs hadn’t been as intense as the last time but he felt good when he closed his eyes. What could be better? Crazy great sex with the woman of his dreams and a game plan for the rest of their lives. They could live in relative peace despite the world in Hell around them.

“Shut the fuck up!” Randy finally yelled at the noise at the door. He swallowed down bile before he puked on the floor. He was sweating and the smell of the sex – and he thought dramatically, the smell of betrayal – in the room was overpowering.

The pounding stopped for several seconds before it began again, louder and faster-paced. “No one is home,” Randy yelled. He found his clothes and got dressed. Once he had the machete in hand he started for the door but stopped. “Fucking bitch!”

Becca had taken her shirt back, dumping the drugs Randy needed on the floor. At least she hadn’t taken them or broken the bottles.

He piled them up on a counter but couldn’t find a suitable carrier for his find. He glanced at the door and hefted the machete. “Hey, can I trouble anyone to see if there is a bag or box out there somewhere? I could use some help,” Randy yelled. He knew he was losing it, knew he was tipping over the edge of no return. He didn’t care right now. His anger welled up inside and he imagined opening that door to find Becca standing there and perhaps Crow. He would take them out with his machete.

“First thing’s first,” he said. He pushed cabinets to either side of the doorway, creating a killing ground. Now only one zombie could enter at a time. Randy stood to the left side past the counter.

The door was stuck and wouldn’t open easily. He tried to pull it open but it didn’t budge. “Push, you stupid pieces of shit.”

Whether they heard and obeyed or simply pushed at that moment, he didn’t know or care, because the door swung wide.

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