The Honey House

Supply Run

The halfers were everywhere. Pooling out of doors along the corridor and tumbling down a flight of stairs to the sickening ping of bones cracking against metal. From the outside the pharmaceutical building had seemed secure. Rae supposed it really was secure, everything locked up tight, a dark maze filled with hungry little mice and she was the cheese.

She spotted a long window in the distance, the mid afternoon sun shining brightly like a beacon to guide her out. She squeezed the grip of her Glock and her last bullet fired, shattering the glass. The narrow corridor filled with a hazy ringing that silenced the groans of the half dead but made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention.

A chill ran down her spine and then she jumped. For a heartbeat Rae thought it was all over as flesh ripped along the side of her body. She chanced a look as she scrambled to her feet. There were no teeth marks but there was blood and lots of it. She held tightly to the injury, stumbling along from the halfers until she reached the chain linked fence she had climbed over less than half an hour before. Climbing up the second time was almost impossible. She threw her rucksack first then heaved herself over with a graceless landing and a cry of pain.

Rae didn't look back at the gathering horde but she could hear them rattling the fence in a desperate attempt to pursue her. She jogged and walked, weaving between cars and cover as quickly as she could for as long as her legs could carry her.

She eventually stopped in the middle of a long street lined with detached houses, once perfect lawns now long overgrown and soccor mom SUV's still waiting to rush kids to school before the first bell. Streets like these filled her with a deep set melancholy. All these people, gone. Rae didn't think she'd ever get used to it.

She glanced around for any signs of danger, spotting a halfer clawing lazily in an upstairs window. Feeling somewhat secure she leaned against the abandoned ice cream truck that was sitting in the middle of the road. Even the strong odour of milk long since turned bad wasn't enough to ruin the relief she found in her lungs filling up with a steady stream of air and her legs turning from jelly back into solid. She didn't know how long she stood next to that truck regaining her senses but when she looked down her hand and her clothes were soaked with red. She allowed herself a couple of tears but that was all. She didn't have energy to cry right now, she'd save it for later, or never, whichever one came sooner.

She popped her head in through the hatch of the icecream truck to see if there was anything salvageable and was pleased to discover a box filled with stale cones and a big tub of sprinkles that had all congealed into rainbow glue. She held the items awkwardly in the crook of her arm as the other hand held pressure on her wound.

Walking further wasn't much of an option, it would be dark soon and she needed to tend to her wound. Rae needed to decide which house to find shelter in and pray it was already empty. She picked the house on the end of the street, the corner plot would give her views over three roads and she liked to feel like she wasn't trapped even if it was only an illusion.

The two story house was enclosed by a white picket fence, the drive empty and the gate latched up tight. Rae left her cones and sprinkles on the doorstep before sneaking around the entire perimeter, peeking in windows and listening out for noises. There was only silence so she tried the front door, jangling the handle to find it locked. She pressed her ear to the wood listening out for any movement brought to life by her attempted break in. There was still only silence. Satisfied, she flipped over the door mat then the assortment of blue and green plant pots gathered around the front of the house until she found a spare key and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God.

The door opened with one long heart stopping creak. In the silence of the street the sound seemed tenfold and paranoia made her wonder if the dead would hear it all the way back at the factory. Of course the noise probably wouldn't carry much past the front gate but a morning of halfers snapping at her feet was making her skittish. She pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.