Sometimes We Ran (Book 4): Survival by Drivick Stephen

Author:Drivick, Stephen [Drivick, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Publisher: Stephen Drivick
Published: 2019-11-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18: Caged and Forgotten

I banged on the chain link door to my prison cell a few times with the meaty part of my fist. It gave, but it would not swing away. I knew what was going to happen, but it felt good to vent some anger on an inanimate object. Actually, if Doug the jailer made a return I might have some fun venting some more on his melon head.

My attention turned to the locks. Just two simple padlocks held me inside this smelly hole in the wall. If Claire was with me, she could pick them, and we would be free in a minute or two. With her smallish hands and youthful dexterity, Claire was the champion lock picker in all of Cannon Fields. In fact, besides teaching our children their alphabet and numbers, she also told them how to defeat locks. Scouts liked to bring back assorted padlocks to challenge Claire’s ability, but she usually opened them all. I wasn’t as good, but I had picked a lock or two in my time. It didn’t matter anyway. My lock picking tools were at home.

I put my aching back to the chain link and sank to the floor. Recurring images of my friends starving under the boot of a psychopath flashed through my mind. I closed my eyes, squeezing them tight to try to chase the visions from the theater in my overactive brain. I had to get out of here, but at the moment I didn’t even have the beginnings of a plan.

“You sound like you’re having a tough day, my friend.”

At first, I thought my tired mind or senility was causing me to hear voices in the dark. “Is someone there?” I asked the darkness around me.

There was no answer at first, confirming that I was indeed going nuts. Then a voice came from another cell. “Right next door. Come next to the wall so I can hear you better. I have to admit, it’s nice to have someone to talk to again, even if we’re both prisoners.”

I scooted across the floor to the shared wall between us. “John Linder,” I said.

“Keith Burbee,” the voice answered. “Very pleased to meet you, John. There’s a lot of talk about you around here lately. You and Cannon Fields are a hot topic.”

“Really. How do you find out? I asked.

“Our mutual jailer, Doug, likes to talk. He and the whole crew are excited about you and your fenced in home.”

“I’ll bet,” I said. I knew Keith’s voice from somewhere. He must have been an actor or a politician or something else. It was older and rougher, but I knew that voice from somewhere in my past. “Keith, your voice sounds awfully familiar. Where do I know it from?”

From the other cell, I heard a laugh come from Keith. “Before the zombies, I owned the largest RV dealership in all of Arkansas. Had the second largest in Georgia. Would have been first if it hadn’t been for my dumb ass brother-in-law screwing it up.

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