Read Online The Regulators - 02 by Michael Clary - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Clary
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single
food item it held.
After that, I went to another machine that held bottled
water and sodas. It took a few trips from there and back to my room, but I was
able to empty it out. There were a few other people hiding out on my floor as
well. I shared with the ones I met in the hallway.
After I was back in my room, I pushed a large wooden dresser
in front of the door to make sure I was safe.
I guess I ended up staying in that room for a few days. It
was pretty lonely. I had no contact with the outside world; then again, that
was kind of the point. The outside world had gone to shit. I could see that
much from my window, and I had no intention of getting any closer.
My truck was waiting for me in the parking garage if I ever
decided to leave, but where would I go? For all I knew, the entire world was
overrun by those things. I watch movies, I know about zombies. They multiply
pretty fast and, from what I had seen out of my window, El Paso was overrun with
zombies.
The only problem I had was food. After those few days of
being locked up in that room, I was almost out of it. I still had plenty of
fluids, and the water in the bathroom still ran, but I was going to need a new
food source. I didn’t relish the idea of leaving the safety of my room, but I
figured that the hotel kitchen would have enough canned goods to last me a
pretty long time.
I left my room the day after I ate the last bit of crackers.
My stomach was grumbling as I pushed the heavy dresser away from the door.
I opened it just enough to peek out.
I looked from left to right. The hallway was deserted. I
wondered what had happened to the people I saw when I raided the vending
machines; whether they were still somewhere on my floor perhaps hiding behind a
locked door.
I’m a hunter. I own a variety of different types of firearms
from pistols all the way to rifles. I’m also a pretty damn good shot, unlike
Georgie. However, I had no weapon. All of them were back at my home in Laredo.
I didn’t even keep a pistol in the glove box of my truck.
That was the worst part, knowing that I could defend myself
really well and not having the means to do so. I hate that useless feeling.
When you are dealing with zombies, you need a weapon. That’s pretty much all
there is to it. I mean, I’ve been in plenty of street fights, I was no stranger
to beating people up, but you can’t punch out a zombie. You can’t even hurt
those damn things unless you destroy the brain. As hard as I can hit, I can’t
hit that hard.
When I left the safety of my room, I was completely
defenseless.
I actually thought about Jax at that moment. He always has a
knife on him. I would have loved a knife in my hand. It wouldn’t be much and I
wasn’t exactly a knife fighter, but it would have been better than nothing.
I chose the elevator instead of the stairs. I had no idea
what the doors would open up on, but I didn’t want to be all tired from taking
the stairs.
I figured the kitchen would be located on the first floor
somewhere near the bar and restaurant. The elevator still played music as it
descended; I remember that much. I also remember just how terrified I was that
the door was going to open onto a room full of zombies.
I watched the floors count down on the electric panel.
I was damn near pissing my pants.
Finally, the doors opened. The way was clear. I crouched
low, just in case I needed to duck behind something and made my way forward.
Fortunately, the lights were all on so I wasn’t lost in the dark.
Unfortunately, I could see all the carnage.
The dead had been through here. There were at least eight
bodies lying about in the bar area. Those bodies had been devoured so
completely that they weren’t able to rise back up. It was nauseating. I felt
the bile rise in the back of my throat and swallowed hard to push it back down.
Retching would make noise. Noise would attract the attention of the dead.
It took awhile, but I finally found the kitchen. The lights
in
food item it held.
After that, I went to another machine that held bottled
water and sodas. It took a few trips from there and back to my room, but I was
able to empty it out. There were a few other people hiding out on my floor as
well. I shared with the ones I met in the hallway.
After I was back in my room, I pushed a large wooden dresser
in front of the door to make sure I was safe.
I guess I ended up staying in that room for a few days. It
was pretty lonely. I had no contact with the outside world; then again, that
was kind of the point. The outside world had gone to shit. I could see that
much from my window, and I had no intention of getting any closer.
My truck was waiting for me in the parking garage if I ever
decided to leave, but where would I go? For all I knew, the entire world was
overrun by those things. I watch movies, I know about zombies. They multiply
pretty fast and, from what I had seen out of my window, El Paso was overrun with
zombies.
The only problem I had was food. After those few days of
being locked up in that room, I was almost out of it. I still had plenty of
fluids, and the water in the bathroom still ran, but I was going to need a new
food source. I didn’t relish the idea of leaving the safety of my room, but I
figured that the hotel kitchen would have enough canned goods to last me a
pretty long time.
I left my room the day after I ate the last bit of crackers.
My stomach was grumbling as I pushed the heavy dresser away from the door.
I opened it just enough to peek out.
I looked from left to right. The hallway was deserted. I
wondered what had happened to the people I saw when I raided the vending
machines; whether they were still somewhere on my floor perhaps hiding behind a
locked door.
I’m a hunter. I own a variety of different types of firearms
from pistols all the way to rifles. I’m also a pretty damn good shot, unlike
Georgie. However, I had no weapon. All of them were back at my home in Laredo.
I didn’t even keep a pistol in the glove box of my truck.
That was the worst part, knowing that I could defend myself
really well and not having the means to do so. I hate that useless feeling.
When you are dealing with zombies, you need a weapon. That’s pretty much all
there is to it. I mean, I’ve been in plenty of street fights, I was no stranger
to beating people up, but you can’t punch out a zombie. You can’t even hurt
those damn things unless you destroy the brain. As hard as I can hit, I can’t
hit that hard.
When I left the safety of my room, I was completely
defenseless.
I actually thought about Jax at that moment. He always has a
knife on him. I would have loved a knife in my hand. It wouldn’t be much and I
wasn’t exactly a knife fighter, but it would have been better than nothing.
I chose the elevator instead of the stairs. I had no idea
what the doors would open up on, but I didn’t want to be all tired from taking
the stairs.
I figured the kitchen would be located on the first floor
somewhere near the bar and restaurant. The elevator still played music as it
descended; I remember that much. I also remember just how terrified I was that
the door was going to open onto a room full of zombies.
I watched the floors count down on the electric panel.
I was damn near pissing my pants.
Finally, the doors opened. The way was clear. I crouched
low, just in case I needed to duck behind something and made my way forward.
Fortunately, the lights were all on so I wasn’t lost in the dark.
Unfortunately, I could see all the carnage.
The dead had been through here. There were at least eight
bodies lying about in the bar area. Those bodies had been devoured so
completely that they weren’t able to rise back up. It was nauseating. I felt
the bile rise in the back of my throat and swallowed hard to push it back down.
Retching would make noise. Noise would attract the attention of the dead.
It took awhile, but I finally found the kitchen. The lights
in