Chapter 3

Reese and I head back down to the apartment, and Ryder is still sitting on the couch with his feet up on my coffee table. I can't help but frown at his rudeness. He catches my mean look, rolls his eyes, and drops his feet from the table. Then he wipes his hand across the surface, smearing the dirt into the carpet.

I clench my hands and roll my eyes back at him. He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest, giving me a glimpse of his barbed wire tattoo in the process. I ignore him and start to dig through the cupboards. "Are you two hungry?"

"Yeah, we are," Ryder says, hopping to his feet. "What do you have?"

"Not much variety," I admit, reaching for the cans on the top shelf. I can feel my fingertips brush against the metal, but I can't get my hands around the cans to bring them down. I grit my teeth to keep from groaning in frustration.

One of the boys starts to laugh, and Reese reaches up to grab the cans for me. "Why do you keep them up there if you can't reach?"

"I can reach just fine," I snap, taking the cans from him. He continues to laugh, and I arrange the cans on the counter. "I've got canned tuna, green beans, corn, mandarin oranges, fruit cocktail, and pear halves."

"Mmm, sounds great," Reese says with a smile. "Decisions, decisions. I think I'll have..."

"Will you just choose already?" Ryder snaps, glaring at his younger brother.

Reese pouts and bats his eyes at Ryder. "You don't have to be so mean."

I laugh, and Reese swipes a can of tuna from the counter. He opens it with the opener on the counter, and Ryder grabs a can of fruit cocktail, and opens it with the Swiss army knife he takes from his pocket. He tips the can back and just starts to swallow large mouthfuls of the fruit.

Shaking my head, I grab a fork from the drawer near the sink and open my own can of mandarin oranges. The three of us eat in silence and, when we're done, I cut up the cucumber. Reese bites down into the vegetable with a loud crunch, and he moans. "Oh, god. Fresh vegetables."

I smile and nibble on my third of the cucumber. Ryder says nothing; he just stands there and eats as if he's not sure he'll get a next meal. I don't blame him. Moving from one place to the next must take a toll on your health and weight.

It's not like he can plant a garden if he's always on the move.

"So, um, I've only got one bedroom. I guess if you guys don't mind sharing, you can sleep there, and I'll take the couch."

Reese frowns. "We can't kick you out of your own bed."

Ryder snorts. "I don't mind kicking her out."

Reese glares at him. "Dude, we're not kicking her out of her bed. She was kind enough to invite us into her own home, the least we could do is take the couch."

"But you both won't fit. It's alright, just take the bed and I'll sleep on the couch. I'm small enough to fit."

"Sam, its fine. Ryder and I have sleeping bags. We can camp out in here."

"Oh, we can?" Ryder asks with a sneer. "She offered; why not take her up on it? When was the last time we slept in a secure bedroom?"

"Its fine," I say, "I don't mind."

Reese turns and glares at his older brother. "I am not kicking her out of her own bed, Ryder. Not only is she our host, she's also a woman."

"I don't give a fuck if she's a woman. You think she's survived the apocalypse this long by sitting around cooking or cleaning? She's obviously not your typical woman. I think she can handle sleeping on the couch for one night!"

"I don't have a problem with sleeping on the couch!" I shout, interrupting their squabble. "Really, it's fine."

Ryder smiles, but it's not a happy one. "Fine. It's getting dark. I'm gonna take that bucket of water and go wash up. Then I'm going to get some shuteye in that nice, comfy bed."

"Ryder-"

"Its fine," I say, looking at him. "Really. Both of you can have the bed."

Ryder takes the bucket of water and disappears into the bathroom, leaving Reese and I alone in the living room. He just shrugs and gives me a lopsided grin. "I'm sorry about him. He comes off as a jackass sometimes, but he's really a dependable, trustworthy guy."

"It's alright. I really don't have a problem with sleeping on the couch. I've done it before. You guys can have a comfy place to sleep for the first time in probably a while."

"Thanks, Sam, but I think I'll keep you company out here. The thought of sharing a bed with my older brother is not a pleasant one."

And just like that, the two of us are laughing with one another. Ryder comes out with his shaggy light brown hair washed and slicked back. His face and arms are clean, and he looks a lot better than he did before.

He shakes his head when he sees us laughing, and shuts himself in my bedroom. Reese pulls a small rolled up sleeping back out from the pile of gear they stashed near the door, and unrolls it across the floor.

I head over to the closet and bring out two pillows and a blanket. I toss Reese one of the pillows, and curl up on the couch with my stuff. Reese shuffles around for a little bit, trying to get comfortable, before finally settling in. "Thanks for letting us stay," Reese says.

"Thanks for saving my life."

After a few minutes, Reese begins to breathe deeply, and I know that he's asleep. I shouldn't feel so safe and comfortable, but oddly enough, I feel safer than I have since the initial outbreak. Even though Ryder is kind of a jerk and Reese might be a little immature, they make me feel safe.

I close my eyes and let myself drift off into a peaceful sleep.

In the morning, I wake up and it takes a few seconds for everything that happened yesterday to sink in. I glance over the side of my couch and spot Reese, still asleep in his sleeping bag. He's very still and is breathing very deeply. Trying not to disturb him, I climb quietly off the couch and tiptoe into the kitchen.

The bedroom door opens, and Ryder walks out. He's stretching his arms above his head, but that's not the first thing I notice. He's wearing only his jeans, a wife beater, and belt, and with his scruffy face and powerful build he looks like a rugged, handsome, cowboy. He catches me staring and smirks.

"Like what you see?"

He sounds so arrogant that I want to reach over and smack that smirk off his face. "No," I snap, making him chuckle. "I just wanted to see how much of a threat you could be to me. You're a stranger; I don't know you. You and your brother could be serial killers."

He snorts. "Kind of late to be worried about that, isn't it? If we were gonna hurt you, we could have done it last night while you were asleep and more vulnerable."

He's got me there. I should have been more careful with allowing strangers into my place, but the idea of them being dangerous hadn't really even crossed my mind. If they wanted me dead, they could have just let the Warriors kill me. They wouldn't have stepped in just to kill me themselves, right?

"You're not gonna hurt me," I say confidently.

Ryder moves so fast I don't even see it coming. Suddenly he's there, slamming me into the fridge. He's towering over me by almost a foot, and his arms are making a barricade, trapping me. He leans in, and I tense up automatically. "Are you sure about that?" he whispers.

I refuse to tear my gaze from his. I won't let him think I'm weak. After an intense few seconds, he chuckles and pulls away. "Brave little thing, aren't you?"

I glare at his backside.

He grabs a can of beans, a spoon, and heads into the living room to eat. I'm tempted to throw one of the cans at him, but I just shake my head, angry that I let him get to me. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge; it's warm, but I suck part of it down anyways. Water is water and, warm or not, it's necessary to survive.

When I head back into the living room, Reese is awake and sitting cross-legged on the sleeping bag. He gives me a bright smile and runs his fingers through his hair. "How'd you sleep last night?" he asks.

"You're my guests. Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I ask, smiling back.

"Ugh, I think I'm gonna puke," Ryder says, propping his feet up on my coffee table again.

Reese chuckles. "Look, man, there probably aren't a lot of women left in the world. I can't help it that she's cute." I can feel my face begin to heat up, and Reese smiles even more. "Sorry; I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

I shake my head. "It's alright."

I move toward the couch, and Ryder smirks as I sit down. "Aww, there's really nothing like puppy love, is there?"

I reach over and smack his arm, and Reese grins again. "So, what's the plan for today?"

I sigh. "Well, lately I've been noticing some bad signs while in town."

"Bad signs?"

"The population seems to be rising in this area. Pretty soon, I think my barricade might get overrun, and I'll have to move. If that happens, I don't wanna leave with nothing. So I've decided to start preparing. I was going into town yesterday for more supplies when I got ambushed."

"Where are you going? What place could be better than this one?" Reese asks, leaning forward. "You're up on the third floor, and you've barricaded the entrance. You've got a fucking garden on the roof. You're not gonna find a place safer than this."

"The garden is nice, but it can't sustain me one hundred percent. I need to make trips into town, and it's getting too dangerous to do. I'm not gonna get eaten just because I need some toilet paper or tuna. This place isn't safe anymore."

Ryder nodded. "Alright, where were you thinking of heading?"

"I'm not sure," I admit.

Reese snorts and gets to his feet. He starts to pace back and forth. "You're crazy. This place is fortified. It's the safest place we've seen since this shit all started."

"But if it's not safe anymore, there's no point in staying," Ryder argues. "Sam's right. Trips into town are risky, and they're almost not worth it. I mean, how much stuff can you bring back per trip? Only a couple day's worth of stuff."

I nod. "Yeah, I can get a few meals' worth of canned goods, but it makes the bag heavy and harder to get around. Plus, I can't bring back weapons or clothes or anything else I might need. I don't use a gun because I can't carry the ammo and the food at the same time. The food is more necessary."

Reese rubs his jaw. "That baseball bat is not going to help any if you get swarmed. You know that, right?"

"Of course. That's why I always triple check my surroundings before going anywhere. Better safe than dead."

Ryder snorts. "Ya think?"

I ignore him, and look at Reese. "We need to get out of here before this place gets swarmed. Plus, with the Warriors in the area, we'll never make it here long. They're out for revenge, and now they'll be after you two as well. It'll be safer for everyone if we pack up and leave before we're forced out."

"Better chance of surviving if we pack ahead of time."

"This is crazy," Reese says, spinning to face me. "This place is safe. All we have to do is be careful when we go into town. You've survived this long by being smart and hesitant. You can keep doing that, you know."

"Smart and hesitant doesn't do much good when you're caught by a horde of flesh-eating monsters. The numbers are rising, and this place is going to be overrun eventually. I don't want to be anywhere near here when that happens. Do you? The only problem is I don't know where to go next. Where were you heading before running into me?"

Ryder frowns. "We were making our way to the coast. Then we were gonna find a boat, and head out to one of the smaller, less inhabited islands. We could set up a safe camp, and take out those things one by one. After awhile, all of the existing zombies would be dead, and because it's surrounded by water, no more could find us."

"That actually doesn't sound like a bad idea. Except that the coast is like a three hour drive from here, and I don't have a car that we can use. Do you guys? If not, do you know how to hotwire a car? Because I sure as hell don't."

Ryder grinned. "Leave that to me, alright? I've got some experience with jacking cars that'll come in handy. For now, just worry about gathering up enough supplies to keep us tied over until we can safely scavenge for materials in our new home."

"So I can come with you guys?"

Ryder shrugs. "If you want."

Reese sighs. "I still think leaving is a huge mistake. We have shelter here, and we can defend this place."

"It won't stay safe forever," I argue, surprised that it's Reese arguing with me instead of Ryder. "What happens when this place gets overrun? Do we just flee with nothing and nowhere to go? At least this way we'll have a chance."

"To go where?"

"We need an island that's large enough to support a population, no matter how small, that has plenty of wildlife for hunting and breeding. Farmland would also be a plus."

"Where are we gonna find a place like that?" Reese asks, looking around. "I don't know of any islands near Kentucky."

"Well, we could head up north to Michigan. They've got Beaver Island, right? That place has a really low year-round population. I bet we could get there and help fortify it. If there aren't any survivors, we'll clear out the few zombies there are and set up a base camp to work from."

"So what do we do in the mean time?" Reese asks.

"Start gathering supplies for a road trip. We don't know what kind of supplies we'll be able to find on the island. Tomorrow we can all split up and gather different necessities. Ryder can start looking for a usable car, preferably something with a lot of storage space. Reese, you can get weapons and ammunition. I'll work on the food and bottled water. Alright?"

Ryder nods. "Alright, let's do this."

We all leave the apartment in the next hour or so, and disappear into the city. My job is to gather as much food and water as possible, so I have my backpack, and a duffel bag to load with supplies that we might need while on the road.

I climb down the fire escape, dropping silently into the alleyway. With baseball bat in hand, I crouch down behind a dumpster, checking to make sure the coast is absolutely clear. With the rise in zombie population and the addition of the zombie Warriors, Louisville isn't safe anymore.

When I'm sure the coast is clear, I inch along the wall of the alley until I come to the street, and I look up and down twice. There are no zombies out at the moment, and I leave the safety of the alley at a mild jog.

The bags are clunky and somewhat hard to maneuver, but I can't afford to drop them. If we're going to get anywhere, we're going to need a bunch of food, water, and supplies. We can't only scavenge along the way; we need to be prepared.

With my recent zombie Warrior encounter fresh in my mind, I make sure to triple check all of my surroundings before moving forward. Now that they're aware of my presence more than ever, I can't afford to make stupid mistakes. They're going to kill me if they catch me; that's all there is to it.

The grocery store comes up just ahead, and I hesitantly make my way to it. The front of the store is made entirely of tall, glass windows, and it bares the obvious signs of the zombie infestation. Blood smears all of the windows, and some have been broken out by looters.

The door is propped open by the rotting corpse of a dead zombie. The body's been bloated beyond recognition by the sun, and I carefully step around it, trying to avoid looking at what's left of the swollen face.

The inside of the store is completely destroyed. Blood has pooled along the floor, body parts lay scattered around, and food has been thrown around carelessly. When the infection first hit, people flooded the supermarkets in terrified crowds, destroying as much as they took.

I grip my baseball bat tightly, and peer up and down each of the eight aisles, checking for any sign of movement. A low growling sound meets my ears, and I slowly start to back away from the final row. I can't be sure if it's a dog or a zombie. Either way, I'm in trouble.

Since the infection spread and people started dying, all the house pets reverted back to their basic instincts. I've seen dogs tearing zombies apart for a meal, and even turning on each other. They'll do anything to survive, including eat me alive, just like a zombie.

Honestly, I'd rather have the zombie. They move slower, and aren't as coordinated.

Slowly, the dog sticks its head around the end of the aisle and spots me. It's a boxer, and his muzzle is red with fresh blood. As I'm watching, he slowly licks his chops and bares his teeth in a loud snarl. The muscles of his legs bunch up, and I tighten my grip on the bat.

I don't like the idea of killing a dog that's just trying to survive, same as me, but only one of us is going to leave this store alive, and it has to be me. I don't want to do this, but I will.

He charges at me, moving much faster than I would have thought possible, and jumps. I swing the bat as hard as I can, and it connects with his front shoulder. He tumbles away from me, rolling head over heel into a display case of nacho cheese sauce. A few remaining glasses shatter around him, showering the dog in yellow dip.

He gets up and shakes himself off, before turning to face me again. He charges, and I swing, but the bat goes high, and the dog crashes into my chest, knocking me to the floor, sending my bat skittering across the store and out of reach. I don't have time to worry about that though, because his bloody breath is in my face, telling me that I'm about to die.