get used to it after a while,” he said, still staring off into the distance. He rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb. “I know that probably sounds crazy now, but it’s true.”
She peered around the parking lot. At the death. Decay. Dismemberment. “I can’t imagine.”
“Of course you won’t be expecting it,” he continued. “But one day you’ll be out and about—hunting food or whatever—and someone will say something. Do something. And it’ll strike you as funny.” He shook his head. “You’ll be standing there, smack dab in the middle of a mass graveyard, surrounded by cannibalistic zombies, cackling like a loon.” He smiled and for a second she thought she saw the old Chris coming out from behind the mask. “It’s at that moment you realize that life goes on. It really does.”
He turned back to her and their gazes locked. Try as she might, she found she couldn’t look away, as if trapped by his eyes. She exhaled, her heart pounding in her chest. Half of her wanted to grab him, right then and there, throw herself into his arms and melt into him, soaking up his strength. Relinquish her control, her strength, her armor, and just be a girl again. A girl who loved a boy.
But she wasn’t that girl. And he wasn’t that boy. Not anymore. And to succumb now would only make things harder when she had to say goodbye.
“Life goes on,” she repeated instead, desperate to break the spell that had seemed to come between them. “Yeah. Until a zombie makes you his lunch.” Her sarcasm sounded harsh, even to her own ears, and she regretted her words the second they left her mouth.
Chase’s smile faltered and he dropped his gaze. If she didn’t know better she’d say he looked disappointed. But “Yeah, exactly,” was all he said as he hopped back off the car. “Now come on. Let’s get inside where it’s safe before we lose all the light.”
He took off and she followed, still a bit shaken. They wove through the parking lot until they reached what had once served as the front of the store. The normal glass-windowed entrance had been barricaded with large sheets of metal, roughly fused together with a combination of bolts and solder.
“The Others aren’t too shy about jumping through glass windows,” Chase explained, all business again as he gestured to the makeshift barriers. “Hell, it’s practically an Olympic sport for them. But they can’t see for anything and aren’t too smart, so the metal here keeps them out. Tank rigged it up a couple years back, and so far we’ve managed to keep a low profile. We’ve killed those who’ve come around, so… well, we think they assume the place is abandoned.”
He gave a cursory glance around the parking lot, Peyton assumed checking for zombies, then went to a door cut out of the metal plates. He opened its lock with a key that hung on a silver chain around his neck. Beyond was a smashed-in glass door.
“Careful,” he said as he motioned for Peyton to step inside. “Don’t cut yourself. A single scratch could be lethal these days.”
She hadn’t thought of that. With no physicians, an untreated infection could be as dangerous as a zombie. Stepping through, she took care to avoid any sharp metal edges or glass shards.
Chase entered, locking the metal door behind them. “Here we are,” he said, ushering her forward. “Home sweet home.”
The normally bright overhead fluorescent lights were, of course, no longer functioning in the superstore, and the darkness was shocking compared to the daylight outside. Otherwise, in what light there was, coming from a skylight to the northwest, the place seemed much as she remembered it. The shelves nearby were stacked with discounted electronics, yellow bouncy ball signs declaring which products were currently—or four years ago, in this case—on special. A long row of checkouts, manned by silent cash register sentinels, stretched off into the distance. In short, it was a barren
She peered around the parking lot. At the death. Decay. Dismemberment. “I can’t imagine.”
“Of course you won’t be expecting it,” he continued. “But one day you’ll be out and about—hunting food or whatever—and someone will say something. Do something. And it’ll strike you as funny.” He shook his head. “You’ll be standing there, smack dab in the middle of a mass graveyard, surrounded by cannibalistic zombies, cackling like a loon.” He smiled and for a second she thought she saw the old Chris coming out from behind the mask. “It’s at that moment you realize that life goes on. It really does.”
He turned back to her and their gazes locked. Try as she might, she found she couldn’t look away, as if trapped by his eyes. She exhaled, her heart pounding in her chest. Half of her wanted to grab him, right then and there, throw herself into his arms and melt into him, soaking up his strength. Relinquish her control, her strength, her armor, and just be a girl again. A girl who loved a boy.
But she wasn’t that girl. And he wasn’t that boy. Not anymore. And to succumb now would only make things harder when she had to say goodbye.
“Life goes on,” she repeated instead, desperate to break the spell that had seemed to come between them. “Yeah. Until a zombie makes you his lunch.” Her sarcasm sounded harsh, even to her own ears, and she regretted her words the second they left her mouth.
Chase’s smile faltered and he dropped his gaze. If she didn’t know better she’d say he looked disappointed. But “Yeah, exactly,” was all he said as he hopped back off the car. “Now come on. Let’s get inside where it’s safe before we lose all the light.”
He took off and she followed, still a bit shaken. They wove through the parking lot until they reached what had once served as the front of the store. The normal glass-windowed entrance had been barricaded with large sheets of metal, roughly fused together with a combination of bolts and solder.
“The Others aren’t too shy about jumping through glass windows,” Chase explained, all business again as he gestured to the makeshift barriers. “Hell, it’s practically an Olympic sport for them. But they can’t see for anything and aren’t too smart, so the metal here keeps them out. Tank rigged it up a couple years back, and so far we’ve managed to keep a low profile. We’ve killed those who’ve come around, so… well, we think they assume the place is abandoned.”
He gave a cursory glance around the parking lot, Peyton assumed checking for zombies, then went to a door cut out of the metal plates. He opened its lock with a key that hung on a silver chain around his neck. Beyond was a smashed-in glass door.
“Careful,” he said as he motioned for Peyton to step inside. “Don’t cut yourself. A single scratch could be lethal these days.”
She hadn’t thought of that. With no physicians, an untreated infection could be as dangerous as a zombie. Stepping through, she took care to avoid any sharp metal edges or glass shards.
Chase entered, locking the metal door behind them. “Here we are,” he said, ushering her forward. “Home sweet home.”
The normally bright overhead fluorescent lights were, of course, no longer functioning in the superstore, and the darkness was shocking compared to the daylight outside. Otherwise, in what light there was, coming from a skylight to the northwest, the place seemed much as she remembered it. The shelves nearby were stacked with discounted electronics, yellow bouncy ball signs declaring which products were currently—or four years ago, in this case—on special. A long row of checkouts, manned by silent cash register sentinels, stretched off into the distance. In short, it was a barren
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