Sometimes We Ran (Book 3): Rescue by Drivick Stephen

Author:Drivick, Stephen [Drivick, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: post apocalyptic survival fiction, end of the world fiction, walking dead, Post-Apocalypse, dystopian, the end of the world as we know it, zombie book, walking corpse, post apocalyptic novels, post apocalyptic sci fi, end of the world books, post apocalyptic books, zombie apocalypse books, dystopian fiction, Zombie Apocalypse, post apocalyptic fiction, Zombies
Published: 2015-04-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15: The Old Man

The sky was beginning to go that gray color just before the sun comes up. I sat in the metal folding chair I found, gun in my lap and waited for the day to start. Behind me, Claire slept soundly, wrapped in a few blankets we'd found the night before. During our long days on the road together in the past, this is what Claire and I did. One of us would sleep, while the other stood guard to keep the bad things away. I always volunteered for the last shift before morning because it was always nice to see the sun come up.

It was also the most dangerous time of night. The zombies were at their hungriest before dawn.

Some tall grass moved in the dark yard. I sat up in my chair, muscles slightly stiff from the cold and middle age. A pair of yellow-green eyes came from behind the grass and stood in front of my chair. The eyes were only a foot or so off the ground, a little too short to be a man-eating zombie. I settled back down in my seat and relaxed a little.

It was a cat. The mangy, white fur ball crossed the back yard with a kitten in its mouth. Just a mother cat moving her offspring to safety. Another resident of earth going about the business of survival. With a parasite that turned dogs into salivating, flesh-eating monsters, cats had become man's new best friend. Cannon Fields had a few dozen as pets, and I myself had two. Claire had one as well. Charlie was his name. They earned their keep hunting and killing the vermin that tried to steal our food. They also roamed the countryside, living off the land and trying to survive.

Just like us.

The mother cat gave me the evil eye as she passed, as humans no doubt made her suspicious. I silently wished her luck as she moved through the yard, looking back at me. With a flip of her tail, she jumped into another clump of high grass and disappeared.

Another young one safe from harm.

The sky got a little lighter. About another hour and the night would be over. Behind me, Claire was stirring and getting up. She walked up, and placed a blanket around my shoulders. It smelled vaguely of mothballs. “Morning,” Claire said. “Lyle ever come back?”

“No,” I said, pulling the blanket closer around my chest. The morning was misty and frigid. “Couldn't find him anywhere. Unless he's in one of these other houses, he's gone.” Claire was still hobbling around on her gimpy foot. “How's the ankle?”

“Sore, but I think I can manage,” Claire answered. She found another chair, and set it down next to me. With a sigh, she settled into the seat and placed her injured foot on a plastic ice cooler. The swelling had gone down since last night, but it was still kind of purple. Claire twisted her foot to check out the injury. “Looks like hell, though.

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