Fear of the Dead Read Online Free
Author: Mortimer Jackson
whatever she could get.
She carried the fire poker in her hand, and made for the door. From time to time she turned every which way she could in order to make sure that there was no one there. The hairs of her skin came alive, then jutted like an army of ants when she nearly tripped on her own leg.
From the sunlight outside, she could make out a full stock of food on the shelves. Energy bars, chocolate, warm soda, chips, and jerky. Her mouth watered at the imaginary taste of a Snickers bar, and Vanessa knew what she would have to do in order to get it.
The car was parked close to the shop. Much closer than would have been considered legal on a regular day. In the off-chance that what she was about to do would alert any lingering infected, Vanessa kept the front passenger door open, so that she could hop in at the first sign of trouble and leave. To that effect she also left her keys in the ignition, confident that at a time like this the last thing she had to worry about was theft.
Clearly, the same would not be said of the store’s owner.
Vanessa raised the poker above her head, then threw it hard against the glass frame. It shattered after a few blows, and with less noise than she’d expected. Still, Vanessa cupped her ear against the air, doing her best to catch even the slightest hint of a response. She waited for five solitary seconds, her knees bent and ready to hop back inside the Corolla.
Nothing.
Feeling confident that there was no one outside, Vanessa turned her attention inwards, to the store that she could see well enough from all the sunlight sifting in.
Vanessa scanned the aisles and checked the doors. There was no one around. The maintenance closet, the office, the bathrooms, all locked. An indication that someone had closed shop right before the infected hit.
Comforted by the absence of infected, she unpeeled a Snickers bar and bit down as fast as she could. The sudden influx of sweetness pinched her mouth, but she adjusted to the taste. Caramel, nuts, and chocolate nougat salivated on her tongue, and she continued chewing to savor the essence.
Vanessa used to avoid chocolate. Not because of the taste, but because of what it did to the body. Woman’s Health Magazine once described chocolate as the grim specter of dietary death. A viewpoint that she herself subscribed to, but only in the days when appearances mattered. Right now, the last worry on Vanessa’s mind was the size of her ass. The world was ending. What better time than to say fuck you to the rules, and for once enjoy chocolate?
Vanessa packed the backseat of her car with junk food and several bottles of water. Enough stock to last her a while. Certainly more than enough to take her back to San Fran.
On any regular day it was an hour’s drive from Fremont to San Francisco. How long now, if one didn’t have to worry about traffic?
Once she had the chance, Vanessa hit I-880 due straight to I-80 on the Golden Gate Bridge. She was ready to bite down on the pedal when the sudden influx of cars flooded her view. Vanessa slowed until she stopped, her front standing directly behind an abandoned taxi cab. She looked for a way to pass the car, only to find that every conceivable lane was blocked. Cars littered the highway, and there was little order to the way they were arranged before her eyes. Some had bumped into others, some tilted so as to occupy two lanes. There were doors open, and windows smashed.
Vanessa got out to see how far the occupation went. Longer than she would have hoped it seemed. The highway descended into rows of parked car, going so far and wide that the further down she looked, the less the highway seemed to be made of gravel, and more an amalgamation of trucks and sedans.
“ Fuck me,” she cursed underneath her breath.
There was no way she was getting past the traffic. Not with her car anyhow. Vanessa imagined that at one point in time, there had to have been evacuees here. Maybe they left their vehicles behind
She carried the fire poker in her hand, and made for the door. From time to time she turned every which way she could in order to make sure that there was no one there. The hairs of her skin came alive, then jutted like an army of ants when she nearly tripped on her own leg.
From the sunlight outside, she could make out a full stock of food on the shelves. Energy bars, chocolate, warm soda, chips, and jerky. Her mouth watered at the imaginary taste of a Snickers bar, and Vanessa knew what she would have to do in order to get it.
The car was parked close to the shop. Much closer than would have been considered legal on a regular day. In the off-chance that what she was about to do would alert any lingering infected, Vanessa kept the front passenger door open, so that she could hop in at the first sign of trouble and leave. To that effect she also left her keys in the ignition, confident that at a time like this the last thing she had to worry about was theft.
Clearly, the same would not be said of the store’s owner.
Vanessa raised the poker above her head, then threw it hard against the glass frame. It shattered after a few blows, and with less noise than she’d expected. Still, Vanessa cupped her ear against the air, doing her best to catch even the slightest hint of a response. She waited for five solitary seconds, her knees bent and ready to hop back inside the Corolla.
Nothing.
Feeling confident that there was no one outside, Vanessa turned her attention inwards, to the store that she could see well enough from all the sunlight sifting in.
Vanessa scanned the aisles and checked the doors. There was no one around. The maintenance closet, the office, the bathrooms, all locked. An indication that someone had closed shop right before the infected hit.
Comforted by the absence of infected, she unpeeled a Snickers bar and bit down as fast as she could. The sudden influx of sweetness pinched her mouth, but she adjusted to the taste. Caramel, nuts, and chocolate nougat salivated on her tongue, and she continued chewing to savor the essence.
Vanessa used to avoid chocolate. Not because of the taste, but because of what it did to the body. Woman’s Health Magazine once described chocolate as the grim specter of dietary death. A viewpoint that she herself subscribed to, but only in the days when appearances mattered. Right now, the last worry on Vanessa’s mind was the size of her ass. The world was ending. What better time than to say fuck you to the rules, and for once enjoy chocolate?
Vanessa packed the backseat of her car with junk food and several bottles of water. Enough stock to last her a while. Certainly more than enough to take her back to San Fran.
On any regular day it was an hour’s drive from Fremont to San Francisco. How long now, if one didn’t have to worry about traffic?
Once she had the chance, Vanessa hit I-880 due straight to I-80 on the Golden Gate Bridge. She was ready to bite down on the pedal when the sudden influx of cars flooded her view. Vanessa slowed until she stopped, her front standing directly behind an abandoned taxi cab. She looked for a way to pass the car, only to find that every conceivable lane was blocked. Cars littered the highway, and there was little order to the way they were arranged before her eyes. Some had bumped into others, some tilted so as to occupy two lanes. There were doors open, and windows smashed.
Vanessa got out to see how far the occupation went. Longer than she would have hoped it seemed. The highway descended into rows of parked car, going so far and wide that the further down she looked, the less the highway seemed to be made of gravel, and more an amalgamation of trucks and sedans.
“ Fuck me,” she cursed underneath her breath.
There was no way she was getting past the traffic. Not with her car anyhow. Vanessa imagined that at one point in time, there had to have been evacuees here. Maybe they left their vehicles behind
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