Crazies

Chapter Thirty-Eight

*~* Karen Newman's POV *~*

Shit Shit Shit...

I discreetly look over the headrest to check on Sang again. Her head is leaned back, eyes pinched closed, and both arms crossed protectively over her midsection. Even though she said nothing feels broken it's clear to see she's in a lot of pain.

I can't believe I fucked up like that.

Seeing that big motherfucker come out of nowhere and tackled her so easily had me freezing like a stupid deer in headlights. Giving douchenozzle number one all the time in the world to slam into me and I dropped my gun.

I dropped my fucking gun.

What's the first rule in the zombie apocalypse? Never drop your gun.

And because I did, Sang was forced to kill that guy to save my neck- literally.

Fucking stupid K, the little imaginary devil shouts in my mind, because of you Sang's going to hate herself again.

A sharp sting ignites across the inside of my left arm, interrupting the negative voice that was beginning to get louder and louder. I glance down to find the fingers of my right hand clawing across the flesh of my left wrist. New red welts run alongside old scars and I fist my hand to keep from harming myself even more as I force myself to visualize my safe place.

All it takes for me to sink into my favorite memories is to hum any song from Garth Brooks and I can almost smell the scent of baked bread that always lingered within my grandparent's kitchen. I smile as I imagine myself helping my Grandma cook dinner while she laughs at one of those stupid jokes my Grandpa loved coming up with all the time.

The relief is like a flood to my system as I pull away from the memory just in time to point Micah to pull into the building coming up on the right.

"Park towards the back," I instruct and Micah follows without complaint. A blinding contrast to what normally would happen between us, but I guess watching me and Sang get our asses kicked back at the gas station must have really hit home how fucked we are.

I scan the large building as Micah slowly swerves the Jeep around a few abandoned cars, some trash piles, and shopping carts littering the parking lot. The vision of the past clashes with reality as I see the familiar tan brick walls with its white and yellow logo barely hanging on to the blue patch painted in the middle. At one point, people would consider this Walmart on the smaller side, but now it feels huge with the ominous shadows and deserted isles.

Fucking creepy.

I give a tiny sigh when Micah makes it around the building without someone jumping out and I point him over to a spot with splotches of paint decorating the wall. The moment the Jeep comes to a stop, I hear the back door opening before I can even touch my door handle. Sang passes by my window with a slight limp and her left arm protectively wrapped across her as she heads towards the paint cans sitting against the wall.

Noting her lack of vest and gun holster, I quickly snatch up my rifle. "Get in the back, Micah," I say before jumping out of the Jeep to join Sang by the wall.

She already has one of the paintbrushes that's littering the ground in hand and is roughly creating a large white square over some graffiti. I try to keep my attention on our surroundings but Sang's labored breathing has me glancing at her every few seconds.

"Today's Wednesday, right?" Sang asks while digging through the mess until she finds a can of black spray paint.

I look down at my watch to double-check before answering. "Yeah, September 29th."