Dead Living (9 page)

Richardson hoped she wasn't an example of
what the world was becoming.

“Okay,” he said. “What do you want?”

She thought a moment. He was asking her to
really risk her life. She knew she didn't have a great life, but
she did want to live a while longer. The last time she went with
Garrett for supplies were for her own reasons. She went looking for
as many makeup kits as she could find. A ridiculous reason, but
they were for Mary Taylor, and she paid with a good supply of
peppers and beans she grew herself.

“How many people know?”

“Just the two of us and Mary.”

“They had that nice teacher's lounge on the
back side of the school, right? I'll take that.”

Richardson gave her a surprised look. That
was the way of Lexington. Possession was the law. If someone left
or died, it didn't take long for their things to get
redistributed.

Still, Samantha's lack of compassion
surprised him.

“Wow. Not even gonna wait till their bodies
get cold?”

“Hey. There's people here who would ask for
much more.”

He nodded. That was the truth. “Okay. I'll
hold the lounge for you. Just meet up with Garrett. I think he's
leaving in an hour or so.”

Samantha walked away. She wasn't looking
forward to the run. It wasn't the danger that bothered her, but
Garrett and his boys. The last time she went on a supply run, they
treated her like she was there only to look at.

For a nice lounge, I'd go alone.

She went back to her room. She stripped down
and put on two long pairs of sweatpants, as well as two sweaters.
It would get hot, but she didn't want a walker biting into her
flesh. She tucked her Beretta into her waistband. She strapped her
favorite knife to her leg, six inches long, very sharp, and its
smaller cousin to her wrist and covered it with her sweater. She
put on her hip bag with three extra clips. That was all she
had.

She completed the ridiculous looking outfit
by putting on a baseball cap and tucking her hair under it.

Garrett and his guys were milling around near
the front gate of Lexington, where the trucks were kept. Garrett
was talking to his favorite stooge, Ray. They filled up from
gas-cans and checked their weapons. Ray gestured to Samantha as she
approached.

“What can I do for you, sexy mama?” Garrett
asked. He looked at her clothes. “You know winter isn't here yet,
right?”

She rolled her eyes. Garrett was a large man,
just a little younger than Richardson, so he'd seen a bit of the
world before it died. His hair was graying, and he had the lines of
a tough life on his face.

There were people Samantha could barely
tolerate. Garrett was one of them.

“I'm filling in for Rob,” she said.

“What's wrong with Rob?”

“I don't know. Ask Richardson. I'm just doing
him the favor.”

“You look stupid. When are you gonna let me
sex you up?”

“I'm glad to see your head is in the right
place.”

“Well,
one
of them is. You know I got the
only dick worth climbing on.”

Everyone laughed.

Bastards. Every single one of them.

“Alright guys. And girl.” Garrett winked at
Samantha. “I think most of you have been through this at least one
time. But I'll repeat the same shit for the learning impaired. The
suburbs around us have pretty much been picked clean. It's just too
many walkers to go through for such a little amount of crap. So
we're gonna hit the city, like we did last time.”

Johnson, a rookie with less runs than
Samantha, waved his hand. “Hey, Garrett. The city? You mean like
old Baltimore, with a few million walkers? Isn't that, like, dog
shit insane?”

“It's not fun, I know. But
don't be a pussy. The way it works is we find a street that's not
too long. Now we got eight people here. We have to work faster than
hell. Two people will always be driving, keeping the trucks moving.
The other six will work in two teams of three. You loot the houses,
grab any damn thing you can find. I mean anything. Forks, knives,
little scented candles, pillows, blankets, hammers and nails,
whatever. Bag it up, and toss them in the trucks. Do
not
hit the second
floors, just takes too much time. Now I know all this sounds
dangerous, and it is. But the walkers move slow as shit. One
street, maybe two, and that's all we have to do. The houses are all
old town homes, connected together. So we can make it fast. We
ready to move out?”

*****

Ten minutes later, Samantha sat near the back
of the open moving truck. Garrett drove one while Ray drove the
other. They were in front of Ray, who took the time to blow
Samantha a kiss. She gave him a middle finger.

She was assigned to scavenge with Murphy and
Anderson, two men she didn't like. They were near the front of the
truck, gossiping about something. Samantha laughed to herself.

They're either talking about how stupid I
look or how gorgeous I am.

The heat was starting to get to her. Her
knife sheaths were uncomfortable against her skin. She wanted to
get done, and get back to her new lounge. They took the side roads
out of Lexington until they hit the old Interstate 295. Even in a
relatively small suburb like Lexington there were plenty of corpses
scattered around. Samantha watched them wander about from the back
of the truck. Some of them made a move toward the back as they
passed by, but they were moving too fast. They were safe.

It would only be when they came to a dead
stop in the middle of a city street that they would be in
danger.

Samantha took a deep breath, trying to keep
calm. Anderson and Murphy still whispered to each other. She shot
them both a look. They just flashed goofy smiles.

“Alright, so what do you guys think? Maybe
two minutes per house, then hit the next one?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Interstate 295 was a long, old graveyard,
full of cars and corpses. Garrett and Ray had to slow down and
maneuver around old cars and trucks, and some of the packs of
corpses got close. Samantha took careful aim with her Beretta as a
few corpses tried to climb in the back. She killed five walkers
while Anderson and Murphy watched.

“Hey Garrett!” she yelled. “You want to get
moving up there?”

“It's not easy driving around all this
bullshit,” he shouted as they passed an old Jeep Wrangler. “So keep
your mouth shut back there and just be eye candy for my boys.”

“Asshole.”

Interstate 295 finally opened up into the
city near the old baseball stadium. Walkers were everywhere.
Samantha didn't think they'd be able to scavenge more than one
street.

It took ten minutes of driving to find what
they were looking for. A short street with no broken down cars in
the middle, town homes on both sides. Garrett and Ray made two
passes down the street, running down every corpse they could. They
did a good job of clearing most of them out. They circled around
one more time and slowed down. Samantha grabbed a few trash bags
while everyone jumped out. Anderson shot a corpse that was trying
to catch up to them.

“Alright guys, hurry the fuck up!” Garrett
shouted. “One team on each side. They know we're here, and bet your
ass they're coming.”

Samantha led the way to the first house. They
had to jump over three dead corpses on the way to the front door.
The house wasn't even locked. The door was wide open.

They stepped into the living room. It was
destroyed, like Samantha expected. Pictures and glass were broken
and scattered on the floor. The television that Samantha was told
people would waste hours in front of was on its front on the
carpet. The couch cushions were soaked in dried blood. The previous
owners had sat there patiently, waiting to die and then walk
together forever.

Anderson tried to move around her. She
stopped him with her arm. “Wait a second,” she whispered.

She tapped on the wall and whistled. The
undead weren't smart. If they heard a noise, or smelled a human,
they would investigate, and they wouldn't be quiet about it.

She heard nothing.

“Okay guys.” She stepped inside. She didn't
notice Murphy quietly closing the door behind them. “Let's get
those cushions. Not the bloody one. Murphy, you check the kitchen
back there. I'm sure-”

Samantha didn't get to finish. Anderson
struck her in the back of the head with his gun. The force threw
her Beretta across the room. She fell to her hands and knees, her
vision starting to blur. Before she even had a chance to think, a
foot kicked her in the stomach. The air rushed out of her lungs as
she fell to her side. Anderson forced her onto her back and raised
his gun high above his head. He smashed the butt of it on her
forehead, still covered by her cap. Her eyes shut as her head
rolled to the side.

“Shit, man, don't kill her,” Murphy said. “I
don't want to screw a corpse.”

“We've gotta make this
fast. Garrett
will
leave us here. Help me with her shoes.”

They each pulled a shoe off. Murphy went to a
front window and watched the street. The other team had already
finished one house and were starting on the next. A few corpses
were near the stop sign at the corner.

“They're coming,” he said.

“Yeah. I'm gonna be coming too in a
minute.”

“She's so pretty.”

“I know. I've been wanting to fuck her
forever. But she's a frigid little bitch. Ain't givin' it up for
nobody.”

Anderson grabbed her sweatpants by the waist
and forcefully pulled them off. She didn't move an inch. He was
shocked by the second pair of sweatpants she had on, and the knife
he felt on her leg. “What the hell?”

“What? What's up?”

Anderson pulled her pants-leg up to reveal
her sheathed knife strapped to her shapely calf. He slipped it off,
making sure to give her leg a quick kiss while doing so. “Would you
look at the blade this bitch is carrying?”

Murphy just laughed, but he was getting
nervous. He could hear Garrett and Ray shouting at each other on
the street. More corpses were showing up.

“You're not gonna need this,” Anderson said,
and dropped the knife next to them. “Not for what we're about to
do.”

“Just hurry up,” Murphy said. “I want my
turn.”

“Don't worry. She ain't gonna feel a thing by
the time I get done with her. Wake up.” He slapped her across the
face. She didn't move. “I want you awake for this.”

Anderson started unbuckling his pants. He'd
fantasized about this moment a long time, ever since Samantha first
walked through the high school gate.

His fantasy was about to turn into a
nightmare.

Samantha sat up like a cobra and jammed the
blade she carefully worked out of her wrist sheath into Anderson's
neck. The blade was only four inches long, but she severed his
windpipe and hit an artery. Anderson's eyes went wide as he felt
blood running inside and outside his throat.

Samantha struggled to breath. Her whole body
throbbed in pain. Her lungs burned and head throbbed from
Anderson's attack. But she never lost consciousness. It wasn't easy
to fake it. She knew she had to just listen to them, figure out
where they were, wait until the time was right, and then
strike.

She had sex two different times in her life.
Both times were by choice. She would kill before she let anyone
rape her, and that's what she planned to do.

She pulled the knife out of Anderson's neck.
Blood gushed from his throat to her chest. Samantha looked over his
shoulder to see Murphy standing there with a shocked look on his
face.

He pulled out his gun.

She grabbed Anderson by the shoulders and
pulled him on top of her. His body shook as he slowly died. She
could feel the blood flow all over her face.

Murphy fired wildly.

He pulled the trigger until he was empty.
Every round went into her human shield, Anderson's dead body.
Samantha waited patiently, her heart racing with fear, but
determined to get out of this alive. When she heard the click of
the empty chamber, she did the only thing she could do before he
reloaded. She leaned out from under Anderson and threw her knife as
hard as she could. She wasn't an expert knife thrower, but luck was
on her side. It pierced his skull, finding a home right between the
eyes. He dropped to his knees and fell forward, driving the knife
even further into his brain.

Anderson's dead weight pinned her to the
floor. He was over two hundred pounds. She tried to wiggle out from
under him.

Gotta hurry. Any minute, he'll turn
into-

Too late.

His body jerked as he came back to life. The
scent of warm flesh immediately touched his nose, and he grabbed at
Samantha. She struggled against him as he climbed up to her face.
His horrible wailing filled the living room. The hole in his neck
gave him a bubbly sound. He leaned forward to bite into her
cheek.

She got her arm up just in time.

Anderson's teeth sank into two layers of
sweater-sleeve. He shook his head violently, like a mad dog, but
didn't penetrate the skin. Samantha had to act fast.

Her favorite knife was just a few feet away,
where Anderson dropped it earlier.

She twisted and maneuvered, all the while
dragging Anderson with her. He put one hand on her throat, not to
choke her, but just to keep himself up. He cut off her air anyway.
She was about to lose consciousness when she felt her hand touch
her knife.

She undid the clasp and shook the blade free.
Pushing his face as far away as she could, she slammed the knife
into his skull, just above the ear. His jaw went loose, and she
pulled her arm free.

She pushed his body away and climbed to her
feet. Her lungs were still on fire, but she could breathe again.
Her ribs were sore from Anderson's kick, but nothing was
broken.