The Lonely Living (Book 1) by McMurray Sean

Author:McMurray, Sean [McMurray, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: zombies
Published: 2013-06-22T07:00:00+00:00

Part Three: Revelations

9

Alive she was, but barely. She was thin and bony and her clothes were filthy and torn. I gently rolled her over onto her back and moved the grimy and matted hair out of her face. She briefly opened her eyes and mumbled almost inaudibly, “she said you would come,” then returned to a seemingly incoherent state.

I opened her mouth and her tongue was dry, cracked and flaky. “You’re dehydrated.” I said dreadfully.

I looked around for something to drink. Empty water bottles, food wrappers and open cans were scattered all over the closet floor, but there wasn’t an ounce of food or a drop of water to be found.

“I have to get you out of here.”

The horde was wailing as they pounded the door from the outside. I frantically searched the room and closet for a way out. I started to talk to the girl as she slipped in and out of consciousness. “I can’t open the door with them outside. There’s no way we’ll make it past them.” I clenched my fists in indignation and pleaded, “Where can we go?”

I paused and tried to think. A moment ago, I’d given up and now I was more motivated then I’d been since I lost Abbey. My outlook may have changed, but my situation hadn’t. We were still hopelessly trapped. I glanced up to curse, but discovering that ceiling was a drop ceiling, I stopped myself. “Up.” I said hopefully.

I swiftly climbed atop the metal cabinet and lifted up one of the ceiling tiles. There was little more than a foot of clearance between the drop ceiling and the concrete floor above and every inch of it was filled with the angry cries and disparaging moans of the horde outside. The miserable melody of the deathly chorus wafted up through a small vent over the door and hung heavy in the air, making my situation feel all the more dire. I dropped down to a seated position on top of the cabinet. “We gotta get out.” I mumbled. “But how?”

I pondered that question for a moment, grasping at air for answers that didn’t involve me opening the door to my undead guests outside and their unyielding desire to eat my flesh. The only other way out of the room was the vent, which I couldn’t fit the girl through let alone me. In frustration, I hopped off the cabinet and began to pace the floor. Grieving my circumstances, I walked into the closet and inside a piece of trash caught my attention. I bent over and picked it up. It was the plastic wrapping of sliced bacon.

“You didn’t eat this raw?” I asked the unconscious young woman. “Of course you didn’t. But, what did you cook it with?”

She was quiet, but a few minutes later I found the answer anyway. On a shelf in the closet was a portable camping stove. I pulled the propane tank from the stove and twisted the nozzle. I took a quick whiff of the gas then twisted the nozzle shut.

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