Survivors by T. M. Starnes

Author:T. M. Starnes [Starnes, T. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Horror | Infected
Published: 2017-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Slapping a bandage against my leg wound and securing it with paper tape, I shimmied into my torn jeans, put my holster back on and skip/hobbled out of the room.

Julie, Randy, and Demetri followed.

Julie fumbled with the tactical shotgun, “Where’s the safety?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s empty,” Randy said.

“What?” Julie sighed, “Rats, I always wanted to shoot a guy’s jewels off.”

Randy and I glanced at each other, surprised.

She rolled her eyes, “Kidding,” then she smirked, “but it’s not beyond me.”

Demetri grunted, “The rifle is empty too.”

It was just the Colt then. We would have to bluff if it was needed. As we moved, people told us they saw the pretty girl with the rifle hurrying through the rooms and heading for the stairs asking about an old shotgun.

As we moved through the survivors, I noticed nearly all the unarmed people were female, black, Latino or young white males, and they were actively helping each other. The mob we met at the door when we arrived were predominantly older white males and armed. There were exceptions. In the back of my mind, I recalled the class status tropes existing in literature. Sometimes clichés were clichés and sometimes they’re based in reality. Even in my mystery writing and the novels I read, the white man was often the villain, the madman, the aggressor. Sometimes it was accurate. Sometimes it was just a fact of American history.

Shouts echoed in the stairwell.

We began running; well, they ran, I skipped.

BANG

No!

No! No! No!

Cheyenne’s familiar cursing voice echoed down the stairwell.

Thank god for profanity.

Randy started shouting up the stairwell, Julie followed with Demetri.

BANG BANG

None of the shots were the Winchester. No klik-klaks.

I had to stop, the pain was too much. Randy was shouting and telling everyone to stop what they were doing. His authority was being challenged by his opponents. Randy was told he was a bad leader. David was the only one looking out for them. Randy explained they had just found Eric the Dog Boy late last night, and he hadn’t had time to tell anyone about it because he’d been moving obstacles on the road. He was going to tell everyone as soon as he could.

Cheyenne cursed and demanded her shotgun.

I hopped slowly up the stairs, breathing in through gritted teeth with each hop.

Some fool called Cheyenne derogatory names. Her profanity vocabulary adjusted to the situation. Julie joined Cheyenne in a colorful display of verbal unity.

Shouts and screams and the sounds of a struggle ensued above me.

The voices echoing in the stairwell faded. I smelled fresh hot air. Pausing to let my throbbing leg and arms rest, I realized I was on the eighth floor and people were coming up the stairs below me. Ignoring my pain, and failing, I pulled myself up the last floor to the exit to the roof. Blue clear sky blinded me from the hotel interior’s shade. Shouting continued on the roof away from the door.

Around me, various metal obstructions dotted the roof. Industrial air conditioning units, fans, elevator accesses, lots of things I didn’t recognize.

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