Read Online Only The Dead Don't Die by A.D. Popovich - Free Book Online

all in all, everything actually appeared to be normal. Definitely a good sign, until she realized that she hadn’t seen a single person, and there had been absolutely no oncoming traffic at all.
    In urgent need of a pit stop and gas, she stopped at a roadside deli; its blinking neon-pink OPEN sign beckoned her to pull over. “Electricity! They have electricity.” I can’t wait to actually talk to a real live person.
    Scarlett resisted the urge to go running into the deli shouting, “Help, I’m the only person left in the world!” Instead, she cautiously opened the glass door plastered with vendor signs: Red Bull, California Lottery Tickets Sold Here, Budweiser, and a collage of other labels. The lights were on, and she heard the humming of a machine in the background, so she expected to see a cheery face behind the deli counter. But no one was here to greet her. The deli’s curved glass display case was empty. Still, she expected to find someone minding the deli, and she quietly searched for the humming source.
    She walked around the empty bins that once held the usual eat-on-the-run snacks like beef jerky and chips and cookies. The deli was barren of all the products it so boldly blasted on the windows: all its shelves were empty. After she was confident that the store was free of any creepers, she decided to check out the rooms in the back of the deli. The restroom was definitely first on her agenda.
    Scarlett found her way to the deli’s back office and noticed what she thought was an old ham radio sitting on a paper-cluttered desk next to a plate of food, and a glass mason jar of water. Someone’s here! She stood in silence searching the room for any more signs of life. Then reality set in, the plate of mashed potatoes, green beans, and what appeared to be ham, buzzed with several pesky flies, a sign that the food had been forgotten about. Although the food was somewhat fresh and wasn’t moldy yet; someone had been here recently.
    She finally located the humming source in a storage room, where a large orange and black generator sputtered and then faltered when she entered the room. Probably needs more gas . . . Several red fuel cans caught her attention. I really need that gasoline. The Kia was almost out. Should I just take it — and risk going to jail ? Who would believe my reasoning: I thought it was the end of the world? Yeah, right.
    Unscrewing a cap, she took a quick whiff and the familiar intense odor filled her lungs; it was definitely gasoline, three cans of it. Despite her urgent need, she couldn’t bring herself to steal a can.
    She left a yellow sticky-note on the door to the supply room: HI, I’M SITTING IN THE PARKING LOT. I NEED YOUR HELP. PLEASE SEE ME ASAP. The note idea did seem a bit silly, but she assumed the employee or deli owner was nearby. When he or she returned, he would most certainly go to that room first to start the generator? Right? Maybe she could bargain for some gas; she had plenty of cash in her wallet.
    Scarlett sat in the car under a shady tree and waited in the hot, August afternoon only daring to leave the windows open a few inches; she was accustomed to the heat by now. And even though she hadn’t seen any signs of creepers, she still couldn’t shake that unnerving feeling that something wasn’t right here. Would these people help her? Did they know what was going on? Her thoughts rambled from one thought to another like a toddler asking a never-ending barrage of irrelevant questions.
    Scarlett had been so caught up in her quest to find people that she had ignored her hungry stomach for as long as she could. She rummaged through a bag of supplies she had loaded in the passenger’s front seat. Yum, a can of tuna and a package of Ritz Crackers. She dumped the can of tuna onto a paper plate and mixed it with several tiny, plastic packets of Miracle Whip. She had always been in the habit of saving those annoying little condiment packets of ketchup, mayo, soy sauce;