The End by M. Rose Flores

Author:M. Rose Flores [Flores, M. Rose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, lgbt, Horror, zombies/undead, Post-apocalyptic, in the closet, dark, no HEA, bisexual, tearjerker
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2018-04-16T07:00:00+00:00

Seventeen: Cauterization hurts like hell.

THEN

Our first days alone were tumultuous. Messy. Terrifying. Survival didn’t come naturally to me. Not that Mel was a master survivalist either, though she definitely had more of a knack for zombie killing than I did. It’s a lot more difficult to destroy a skull or aim for an eye socket in the heat of a fight than you’d think. There’s this horrible, putrid creature, sometimes two or more, clawing and gnashing teeth at you, trying to tear you apart. They don’t feel anything either, so the best you can hope for when you shove them back a few steps is that your aim will be true when they get close again. Because if it isn’t, if your weapon hits but doesn’t kill, most of the time it ends up lodged in the body. And then what? You’d better have a backup weapon, that’s what.

I took things for granted in the beginning, too. Things like sleeping and washing my face. Keeping my eyes closed for any length of time proved to be hazardous before I learned to use my other senses effectively. Listening is key. Sleep light, and always always have a weapon within reach. Be constantly alert. But despite all of the things I had to learn, things which quickly became second nature to both my sister and me, I attribute my still being alive mostly to luck.

Several hours after leaving the church, right after hitting the coast highway, we ran out of fuel. The three stations we passed all had signs hanging in the window that said some variation of “no gas.” So just before the sun went down, the truck puttered to a stop in the middle of the highway. We were somewhere in the northernmost part of Oregon, with a pretty impressive view of the ocean. The sunset wasn’t the kind you see in magazines with tons of puffy cotton-candy clouds and an orange-and-blue sky that reflects colorfully on the gently rolling waves, but a simple palette of yellow by the horizon that faded gently into jewel blue, then deep midnight blue. The sky did reflect on the water’s surface, but on the angry winter waves the chopped-up reflections of light looked more like broken glass floating on the gray water. You know, if glass could float.

Once the sky was deep velvet blue and the water was black, Mel yawned and stretched her arms over her head.

“Let’s turn in. I’m exhausted.”

We took out the bikes and curled up in the truck bed.

“Wish we had a sleeping bag,” I grumbled as I laid my head on my arm.

Mel huffed.

“Stupid Gary.”

My old self would have made a “hope he gets eaten by zombies” joke. Instead, I rolled over to face Mel, who was lying on her arm exactly as I was.

“Doesn’t matter. If we power through and we have minimal detours or stops or whatever, we could be in San Francisco like next week.”

“You really think?” Mel whispered. The look on her face was

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