Living on Borrowed Time

Chapter Two

"Whoa this place is huge." David says as we pull up to our next scavenging location.

"Here." I hand him a flashlight. "And this, this is for emergencies only... got it?" I say as I hand him a pocket knife. He nods.

"Got it."

"Alright... lets do this. Stay on my heels and you'll be alright." I say, getting out of the car. Surprisingly there aren't any biters in sight. Before closing my door I remember something, something vital. I lean in and open the glove box. Taking out my 9mm Beretta, I put it in the waistband of my jeans and cover it up with my slightly faded, brown plaid button up shirt.

The home we're searching is a large, two story, colonial style home. Its painted with a light yellow that isn't very tasteful with a white trim.

"I wonder who lived here?" David says, looking up at the two white pillars that hold up the front patio roof.

"William Jenkins lived here... sort of a big shot." I answer his question. "This house was probably very secure, I don't suppose the front door is just open." I look around. 'The two car garage might be a way in', I think to myself. Then I hear a door creak open.

"Yup... its open." David shines his flashlight into the darkness of the home, taking a step over the threshold.

"What do you think you're doing?" I pull him back. "You stay on my heels, I don't stay on yours."

"OK." He says with an apologetic tone.

The entrance hall is large and dark.

"I wanna get in and out of here OK?" I tell him as sundown creeps up on us. The first doorway on the left is a large one, opening up into the kitchen. As we enter David looks up at what must be nearly a fifteen foot high ceiling. I snap my fingers, gaining his attention.

"Focus." I whisper. "Search for food and water. If any weapons or ammo comes up give em to me." He nods in response. I slowly walk around the large kitchen. All of the appliances are black and very expensive looking. First I go for the fridge, in search of water. I crack open the door and close it immediately, gagging from the smell. Making a bit of noise as a few glass bottles clatter together inside the door.

"What?" David whispers. I just shake my head, trying not to vomit. Forgetting the fridge I raise my flashlight, searching the countertops. There are several food wrappers and tin cans but they all seem to be empty.

"Bruce look." David says, holding two cans. "Chicken noodle."

"Good. Put what you can in your pack, if you get full I'll take the rest." I tell him. I open a cabinet, nothing but dishes. Then another, more dishes. I pass the kitchen window and open the tall skinny cabinet to the right of it.

"What do we have here?" I mutter to myself, pulling a bottle of wine from the cabinet. I shine my flashlight on the label. The words are too faded to read, looks like it sat in water for a while. The only thing readable on the label is "1987".

"87' huh?" I close the cabinet, looking up through the window. My face drops.

"We gotta go." I say as at least two dozen biters approach the house from the woods.

"Bruce, look out!" David shouts as I back up into a biter. It bobs its head and chomps down onto my back, my backpack. I manage to shake it off and push it back. Instinctively I spin around and smash the bottle of wine over its head. The biter collapses to the floor but its jaw continues to chomp on the piece of fabric it ripped from my pack. With the jagged neck of the bottle still in my hand, I act fast. Jamming it down into the biters face, completely collapsing its facial structure and destroying its brain.

"Let's go." We bolt for the front door.

"Not that way!" David panics as several biters push their way through the door. With desperation I attempt to kick the door shut but I fail. Multiple limbs get caught in the door, causing the door to bounce back open.

"Dammit!" I shout. "Down the hall!" We take off in the opposite direction, dashing past the kitchen. The hallway is dark and our flashlights are slightly dimming. We break out of the darkness at the end of the hall, running into the living room.

"Bruce!" David fears for me as a biter grabs onto me, a biter that was already lingering in here.

"Run!" I yell to him, struggling to get the biter off.

"But..."

"I'll find you! Hide!" I shout over his disagreeing. The biter pushes me further back, flipping me backwards over the couch and onto the coffee table on the other side. The legs of the table snap and the glass in the middle shatters as the both of us crash on top of it. The biter snaps its jaw at me, ravenous for flesh. There's a gaping hole in its neck, muscles and nerves dangle from it, nearly falling into my mouth. Looking around, desperate to get it off I see a stone ashtray that was on the coffee table. Quickly grabbing it I smash it into the side of the biters cranium, hearing it crack. It falls beside me but isn't dead. I roll over on top of it and smash the carved stone into its forehead, then again, and again, and again. Until its skull completely opens up, spilling brains and blood out onto the soft white carpet. Immediately getting my attention another biter stumbles towards me from in front of me. Several more following behind. The ones from the front door had already caught up. I kick it in the chest, knocking it backwards. As it falls it knocks down two others like dominos.

"David!" I call out after running away, dashing down another hall.

"David where are you!" I shout, bolting through the hall. Suddenly a door opens as I run in front of it and I'm pulled inside by my shirt.

"Shh... it's me." David hushes me. I breath heavily as adrenaline takes over my lungs.

"Calm down." David says. "They'll hear us." I attempt to slow my breathing but only manage to reduce it slightly.

"Let's see if there's a way out down here." David suggests, pointing to the basement stairs behind us.

"OK." I say.

"Where's your flashlight?" He asks. I look down, patting my pockets.

"I don't... I don't know." I reply, taking a deep breath. He clicks his flashlight on and hands it to me.

"Lead the way." He steps aside. I just look him in the eye, silent for a moment.

"Thanks." I say, then head down the stairs.

I stop on every other step, hoping that they stop creaking so much but they don't.

"Can we get through there?" David points at a small window as we reach the bottom of the steps. The window is long horizontally but narrow.

"I don't know. It'll be a tight fit." I say. I walk over to the concrete wall that has the window and notice a small table with a couple boxes. Opening the boxes I'm disappointed, just some clothes.

"Whoa, look." David says. I turn around and he's holding a brown hunting rifle.

"Lemme see that." I grab it, examining it. It seems to be in good condition, its bolt action too.

"Any ammo?" I ask. He hands me a small, half empty box of bullets. "Great find." I pat him on the shoulder, then put the box in my pack. "Now lets get out of here." I hop up on the table, kicking the boxes down.

"Give me your pack." I say as I push the window open, tossing the rifle and the backpacks onto the grass. "You first, come on." I help him up onto the table.

"Is it safe out there?" He questions.

"David, if it wasn't you wouldn't be going first." I say, pushing him up into the window. He fits through fairly easy but my case will be different. I hop up, instantly struggling to fit. Just wanting to go home I force myself through, severally scrapping my shoulder blades on the way out.

"Thank god." I sigh, grabbing my pack and the rifle. David is already ready to go, pack in hand.

"Let's go." We dash for the car. "Before they start wandering back outside.

"Don't have to tell me twice." David replies, eager to get home.