Zero Cell ✓

Chapter 5

The two burst through the double doors right into the store. The grip around Alex's wrist loosened, and he broke free. His skin burned hot even as he massaged it. When he took a deep breath, he instantly gagged. The air inside was unnaturally thick, and a nasty, musty stench of rotten meat lingered; it smelled like death. He seriously doubted if his nose would adjust to this rotten city. Alex averted his fixation by glancing at Keaton, who'd pushed a nearby bookshelf over to block the entrance. It looked like child's play to that man as he was seemingly unaffected by these strange events. But Alex was lucky to have met someone who could manage well under stress.

"We should be good for now. Alex, you aight?" Keaton finally asked, facing him.

Still rubbing his bruising wrist, Alex responded, "I'm hanging in there."

"Good. Sorry," he flicked his head toward Alex's arm. "I didn't want to get caught in that mess."

Alex sighed and finally let go of his wrist. Though the burning sensation that crept up his arm persisted, it was more manageable now. "You think this place is safe?" Alex turned around, taking in all of the scenery.

The air inside was unnaturally thick, and a nasty, musty stench of rotten meat lingered; it smelled like death. The room wasn't large, but he could see at least four thin aisles, with a small café at the lower left end of the store. In the center was a large round table with stacks of various books.

"Better than being out there," Keaton huffed and walked past.

Alex turned around and took in the scenery. The room was medium-sized, and around fifty people could take shelter there. Alex saw four thin aisles past the displays of newly released books, with a small café at the lower left end of the store. In the center was a large round table with stacks of various books, and off to the right was the checkout area.

However, when he looked down, Alex realized why this place wasn't a shelter. There was a plethora of corpses that had been mowed down or eaten, and splotches of dried blood had coated several sections of the floor. He wanted to throw up but couldn't, not even when he saw bits and chunks of flesh in blood mounds. He looked closer at some of the lesser ravaged bodies and saw matching slash marks on their torsos; the floors and walls oddly shared the same marks.

"Oh, god... What happened here?" Alex clenched his handgun as he walked closely behind Keaton.

"Don't know, don't wanna know," Keaton whispered back.

Alex gulped as he and his friend ventured down one of the aisles. As they passed through, it seemed the place had been thoroughly trashed and scavenged. Torn books were scattered across the floors and aisles, several of them smeared with bloody handprints and scratches.

He tried not to think about it; instead, he focused on the books that still remained on their shelves. As he trailed their spines, reading various titles and authors, a familiar book caught his eye when moving past one of the shelves. It was a pocket-sized book titled Morphine Love. The words were printed with a smooth, creamy gold and a darkened outline; everything else was blank, with the cover's pure white color—no summary in the back, no author's name on the front.

I've read this before, a long time ago, Alex thought. Despite the hellish atmosphere, a feeling of warmth filled his body as he picked it up and glossed over its rugged hardback with his thumb. He was an avid reader by heart, having various amounts of books back home. The corners of his mouth pulled into a smile as he reminisced about his late nights, enthralled with the worlds his collection contained. Of course, it was all thanks to Eric, who fed his addiction often. His eyebrow twitched, remembering that he'd never asked; Eric just did it.

A husky groan came from behind. Alex dropped the book and whipped around as two decaying hands grabbed his shoulders. His body tensed up as the male zombie pushed against him. It was muscular and heavy, too, forcing Alex to muster up all his strength to keep it at bay. However, its snarls and snapping, bloodied mouth tried to chomp Alex's throat. Alex then grimaced as he slowly bent his weakening legs. His biceps burned as the zombie slowly overpowered him. A putrid stench of its musky warm breath hit Alex's nose, cringing it in disgust.