Chapter 4

The boxer bares his sharp teeth in a loud snarl, and I instantly cringe. In the span of a few short seconds, a bunch of different emotions swirl through my mind: fear, anger, helplessness, sadness, and strangely enough, relief.

Being eaten alive by a dog is not how I would choose to leave this life, but I can't help but think at least this way I won't become a zombie. However, I don't have to worry about harming anyone I love, because there's nobody left. I'm an only child, and my parents both died in the first wave of zombies. I've had a few months to mourn their loss.

There's nobody to mourn me...

There's a shot, and the boxer yelps and rolls off of me. There's a second shot, and no yelp. It's a mercy shot, to put the dog out of its misery. For a second, all I can do is lie there on the floor, staring up at the spot where just seconds ago, a dog was about to rip out my throat.

I just focus on evening out my breathing, and calming my racing heart. I've had a lot of close calls, especially recently with the Warriors, but this was so much more real. That dog could have killed me and, if my savior hadn't shown up when they did, I'd be dead right now.

When I glance at the door to the store, I'm surprised to see Ryder standing there with an assault rifle in his hands. It's sleek, black, and incredibly dangerous looking. Even scarier is that he looks like he knows how to use one, and has been doing it for years.

"What are you doing still sitting there on the floor? Get up!"

I don't need to be told twice. The appearance of Ryder has calmed my nerves, and I jump to my feet and retrieve my baseball bat. Ryder follows closely behind me, double checking everything I've already checked. That annoys me, but I keep my mouth shut since he just saved my life.

"What are you looking for?" he asks, shifting his rifle. "Maybe I can help."

"Anything in a can."

Finally I come to the aisle where the canned goods are kept. Unzipping my backpack, I start to shove cans of tuna in. During the last few months, I've cleaned out quite a few grocery stores, and this one is running on empty. All in all, there are six cans of tuna, three green beans, four cans of spam, twelve small cans of Vienna sausages, a few cans of soup, fruit cocktail, and eight cans of spaghettio's.

There are about forty cans of food in total, and that seems like a lot, but it won't feed us for long. The three of us could go through three or four cans a day, which equals about eight to ten days. If we don't find food when we get to where we're going, we could starve.

"Is there bottled water nearby?"

"The aisle in front of us should have some Fiji water. Make yourself useful and grab some."

He gives me a look, and I think for a second he wants to object. Instead, he just shakes his head, mutters something that sounds like brat, and heads over to the next aisle. While he's gone, I sling the backpack over my shoulders, grab the duffel bag, and start walking.

The duffel bag is only partly filled, and I don't like leaving the store when I can grab more. The more I take now, the longer I can go without having return to the town and risk being eaten, mauled, shot, or raped. But, this place is pretty much empty of usable things, and I don't want to dillydally.

When I pass the door, I stop, and back up a few steps. Sitting there in front of the store is a large, black SUV, which wasn't there a few minutes ago. That thing's a beast. There's no way I missed it on my way in, which means that must be what Ryder chose, out of all the available cars in the city.

"It's a Chevy Tahoe Hybrid. It seats eight people, and has a shit load of cargo space. Plus, it's not too bad to look at," he says with a wink. "Come on; help me load this water into the back."

I open the hatch and toss my two bags inside. Ryder joins me, carrying two boxes of water, each one containing six half-liter bottles. "There's two more in the aisle still."

I head back into the store, trying not to look at the fresh blood from the dog, and grab the two remaining cases of water. With four cases loaded into the back of the truck, we have twenty-four bottles of clean, drinkable water. Again, that seems like a lot but, between the three of us, it won't last long.

"Your hands are shaking."

I close the hatch and look up at him. "What?"

He nods to my hands, which I hide in my sweater pocket. "Your hands are shaking. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say, heading around to the passenger seat. "I almost got my throat ripped out by a dog, and we're on the run from zombie Warriors and zombies, but other than that, I'm perfectly fine."

I hate the edge of hysteria creeping up in my voice, and I fight to push it back down. The last thing I need is for Ryder to think I'm a stupid girl that can't pull her own weight. I need to show him that I can bring as much to the table as he can.

He glances at me as he gets behind the wheel, but doesn't say anything. He just starts the car with a set of keys, and speeds away from the grocery store. "Where did you get this car?" I ask, turning around to peek into the backseats. There's plenty of storage space for necessities, and room for more survivors, if we could find them.

"A car lot nearby. I figured the store owner wouldn't have need of it anymore."

"Probably not," I admit quietly. "So, are we getting Reese now?" Ryder nods curtly, and his hands clench on the steering wheel. "You're worried about him."

"He's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

"I'm sure he can, but you're still worried about him."

He doesn't say anything, just speeds up. There's a loud thump and a splat that draws my attention back to the front, and I see blood splattered across the windshield. "What did we just hit?"

"Zombie," he says with just a hint of glee. He speeds up again, and runs over an elderly woman with blood dribbling down her chin. I can't help but notice the look of satisfaction on his face as he turns the corner and sees another.

"You're enjoying this," I accuse.

He nods once, and steps on the gas. Ryder hits two more zombies on our way to pick up Reese. He doesn't look surprised to see the blood smears on the car, and just shakes his head. Ryder gets out to help him, and I turn around in my seat to see what Reese managed to get.

Reese throws a duffel bag overflowing with ammunition into the back, and sets two dangerous looking rifles next to it. He has another bag filled with handguns that he sets aside. Reese sees me looking and smiles. "Glock 17's. Do you know how to shoot a handgun?"

I shake my head. "No, not really. My grandpa taught me years ago, but it's been ages since I've fired one. I probably can't hit a target anymore."

Ryder looks up at me from the handgun he's looking over and snorts. "It really is a miracle you survived this long."

I glare at him. "I'm perfectly capable of survival. You don't have to be a redneck superhero like you to make it in this world."

Reese laughs, and Ryder scowls at us. He tosses the gun back into the bag and stalks up to the driver's seat. "Come on, man. That was funny and you know it."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the look on his face, and turn away. "What else do you have back there?" I ask Reese over my shoulder.

He sighs. "Well, let's see. I've got a couple of good hunting knives, a machete, two shotguns, a compound bow with twelve arrows, and more ammunition. We should be able to make it to Beaver Island with no problems."

He closes the hatch harder than necessary, and I wonder how mad he still is about leaving. How does he not see that this is for the best?

He hops into the seat behind me, and leans forward.

"So, back to the apartment?"

"No," I say. They both look at me, and Ryder sneers.

"Got somewhere else you need to be? In case you haven't noticed, the world ended some time ago."

"This truck is going to be the only moving car in the entire city. If the Warriors see it, they can follow us back to the apartment. We're gonna have to park it a ways away and walk."

Reese nods. "She's right. If those asshole soldiers find us, they'll burn the apartment to the ground, with us still inside. We can't risk it if we're gonna make it out of here alive."

Ryder rolls his eyes, but doesn't argue with us. When he pulls away from the gun store, I lean back in the seat, wondering how long I can survive with these two brothers.

"Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot. That's a huge mistake most beginners make when learning how to use a gun," Reese says. He's sitting next to me on the couch, and his hands are showing me what to do. "Click the safety off, and pull the trigger."

"How do I tell if the safety is on or off?" I ask, earning a laugh from Ryder. I glare at him, hating that my cheeks are burning with humiliation. One person shouldn't be able to make someone feel so stupid, but Ryder definitely accomplishes that.

Reese doesn't laugh. He just shows me how to click the safety on and off, and the correct way to grip the gun. "Don't worry, this gun isn't loaded right now, so it's safe to handle."

I take the gun from him, noticing that it's smaller than the Glock 17's he took from the gun store. I look it over, click off the safety, and take aim at an empty soda can on the shelf nearby. I focus my breathing to steady my nervous hands. After a second, I click the safety back on and hand the gun back to Reese.

After that, he shows me how to load and reload the gun, and it takes me a while to get the hang of it. After an hour with the gun, I can barely reload while in the safe, empty apartment. "What am I gonna do if I'm attacked by zombies and under pressure? I'll probably drop the magazine and get myself killed."

"Don't worry about it too much; it'll just make you even worse. We'll practice some more when we get on the open road the sound won't attract Warriors. I'll teach you to shoot, no matter how long it takes."

Ryder looks at us from the kitchen. "Would the two of you please get a room?"

I glare at him over Reese's shoulder, but Reese looks unfazed. "Don't worry about him. He's just pissed off because you called him a redneck."

"Isn't he?"

Ryder wears baggy, faded jeans, and a stained sleeveless shirt. His hair is shaggy, and his face is unshaved. Plus, he looks entirely too comfortable holding those guns.

Reese chuckles. "Yeah, he is," he says, picking tuna out of a can with his fingers.

"Where do you guys come from?"

"Texas. We've been on the road for about a month, walking during the day and sleeping in trees at night. We were making our way to the coast, hoping that the "safe zone" we heard about on the radio was still active."

"What safe zone?"

Reese shrugs. "They popped up for a while when the infection first hit. The government would set up camps that were protected by soldiers and armed civilians. By the time we got there, they were always destroyed. The infection always finds a way in."

"Oh. Where is this supposed safe zone?"

"Somewhere in Pennsylvania. We were just stopping through here when we found you. Thought another survivor might come in handy."

"Well, thanks for saving me."

Reese smiles. "No problem."

"Ugh, barf," Ryder says, getting up from his seat in the kitchen. He grabs a can of beans and shuts himself in my bedroom. We both watch him go, and I can't help but frown a little.

"Don't worry about him," Reese says again. "It's just been the two of us for a while now."

"How long?"

"Well, when we started out from Texas, it was the two of us, a man and his two teenage daughters, two little boys, and an elderly woman. Ryder took charge, making sure to get them to safety. But things happen, and people do stupid things, like not listen to Ryder. One mistake was all it took, and one man got everyone in our group killed."

"That's terrible."

"Ryder took it hard. He saw it as his fault that they were dead, since he'd promised them it would be alright. He knows I can take care of myself, so he doesn't worry about me." I think about his reaction in the car earlier, but don't say anything. "I think he's really not looking forward to having to take care of someone else."

"I can take care of myself, even if I can't shoot a gun. I mean, I survived for months here, all by myself."

"Why are you alone? Didn't you have any family in the area?"

"My parents. But they died in the initial wave. I'm an only child, and my grandparents all died years ago. Cancer, heart attack, and a car accident. I have a cousin that lives in New York. Madison's twenty years old, and she goes to school in New York. She was going to come live here with me after she finished. What about you?"

"It's just been me and Reese for a while. We're the, uh, cliché white trash family," I raise my eyebrow, and he sighs. "Our dad drank like a fish, and when he got drunk, he'd slap our mother around. For a while, she put up with it. She left after my sixth birthday, and didn't come back. Didn't even try to take us with her."

There's a hard edge to Reese's voice, and I wonder if he hates his mother.

"I spent the next four years getting my ass kicked by my dad, until Ryder got big enough to fight back. Then my dad left, and I moved in with an Aunt, but Ryder did a lot of the caring for me. He did an alright job, but it wasn't the same as having a mother around, you know? Our aunt never liked kids; I could tell he didn't really wanna be a babysitter. The happiest I've ever seen him is when I finally got my own place."

"But you two are together now."

"When the infection first appeared, he began stockpiling supplies and getting ready for the end of the world. When it finally happened, he got me, and we left our hometown and everyone we ever knew. We've been running since then."

"I'm sorry." I can't think of anything else to say, but that seems to work. Reese nods once, and gets off the couch. He throws his empty can of tuna in the garbage can, and slides into his sleeping bag for the night. Without another word, he turns his back to me, and falls asleep.

I wish I could fall asleep that easily. Instead, I'm nervously thinking about tomorrow. We're going to spend the morning gathering more food, and then we're leaving by noon. We'll be on the open road, with no guaranteed safe places to sleep. For the first time since this infection started, I'll be totally open and exposed.

I might die out there on the open road. But I'll definitely die if I stay here. It's only a matter of time before my barricade fails, or the zombie Warriors find me. As temperamental as Ryder is, he's probably my best bet for survival...