100-Days-in-Deadland(21)

Silence put every single one of my nerves on edge. I scanned the open lot, watched the door, and then repeated the process. After a couple minutes, my leg started to shake with nervous adrenaline. No zeds showed up in the alley or from another building. After five minutes, I was convinced we’d arrived without being noticed. After five and half minutes, I opened the door and stepped onto the pavement.

Come on, Clutch. Where are you?

I had taken four steps closer to the building, still looking out for zeds or looters, when the back door opened, and Clutch held up his hand. All-clear.

I closed the distance in a heartbeat. “Any problems?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

I followed him into the building and up the stairs. He hopped over a bundle, and I stopped cold. A body wearing a white lab coat lay crumpled on the steps. The dark gore around its head looked fresh. Even though it had only been days since the zeds came out, I was surprised how quickly I was becoming desensitized to the sight of dead bodies.

I glanced up at Clutch. “Your doing?”

He looked over his shoulder and shot me a quick nod before continuing on. With my teeth clenched tight, I took a cautious step over the body, part of me afraid that it would twist around and bite me in the ankle, just like Alan had been. As soon as I cleared the body, I rushed up the remaining steps to meet up with Clutch at the top.

“I took out two zeds, so the place should be cleared, but be careful. They’re slow, which makes them quiet.” He motioned to the left. “Pharmacy’s that way.”

I nodded and watched Clutch head off in the opposite direction. I nervously edged toward the counter with PHARMACY written in all caps above it. Clutch was counting on me. This was my first chance to show him I could help him in the field. When I approached the pharmacy, another fear hit me as I stared at the rows and rows of drugs. How the hell would I know what to take?

I grabbed two red shopping baskets and jumped over the counter. Nearest to the counter, I recognized a few of the names, such as Prednisone and Amoxicillin, so I assumed that this was where the most common stuff was kept and used my arm to slide everything into the cart. From there, everything looked to be arranged alphabetically, so I just grabbed anything that sounded or looked remotely useful, leaving little behind for the next looters.

When two baskets were overfilled, I climbed back over the counter to track down Clutch. I heard him rustle off to my side. I smiled, turned, and lifted my baskets. “Look what—”

A zed tumbled from the top shelf of the aisle and landed in a heap in front of me. It clumsily climbed to its feet. It still wore a smock with the name LAURA on a pin. A chunk was missing from its neck, but it looked otherwise uninjured. Except for the jaundice and hungry stare fixed on me.

“Clutch!” I dropped the baskets. The zed staggered toward me, and I reached for the knife, but it didn’t budge. I realized it was still snapped into its sheath, and I fidgeted with getting the tanto free. The zed was almost upon me. I instinctively shoved it back. Its mouth snapped at me. I finally pulled the blade free. The tip of another blade suddenly protruded from its mouth, and I stumbled back.

The blade disappeared. The zed collapsed, revealing the man behind it glaring at me.

“You bit?” Clutch asked.

I shook my head.

He picked up at least a dozen shopping bags, sliding them up his arms and shoulders, watching me. “Let’s go.”

Still holding onto the knife, I grabbed the baskets and hustled around the zed.

Clutch moved fast. He was back to the stairs and down the steps by the time I reached him. I’d expected him to head straight to the truck and half expected him to leave me behind. But he stood at the door, waiting for me.

Outside, he checked around and under the truck. He didn’t speak, just opened my door and then climbed in on his side. I dropped the baskets in the backseat and was in the front seat by the time he revved the engine. He tore out of the parking lot and turned in the direction of the farm.

The tension was palpable in the cab.

“She dropped down from the top shelf. She must’ve hidden up there to get away when she was attacked, and stayed until I walked by—”

The steering wheel creaked under Clutch’s grip. I didn’t speak another word the rest of the way back to the farm. Unease roiled through me as he pulled up to the house and slammed on the brakes. I grabbed the baskets, tossing in bottles and boxes that had spilled out on the rough ride back. Once outside, I closed the door and stood for a moment. When I turned and looked at Clutch, he was looking straight ahead, both hands on the wheel.