Deadman Crawling [m×m]

FOUR

He makes the choice to leave a few days later.

He packs the bare minimum. Only shoves a few cans of spam and vegetables with a small bag of white rice and several bags of Nong Shim Shin noodle soups into a small red duffle bag.

Right on top, he places neatly folded clothes that fit tight as they mold his body. He adds boxers, socks, and an extra chest binder as well.

From there he moves onto shoving in things he can use for protection like duct tape, a lighter, a small blanket, and a flashlight. He's debating on taking the fire extinguisher outside his door and eventually he does.

He carries it in his hand as he straps his crossbow to his back.

He's ready, as ready as he'll ever be.

Quietly, he does the same as he did for his excursion to the grocery store. He stays on high ground, follows the contour of the roof until the buildings run out and he's forced to go down.

But this time around he spots more infected milling around.

He closes his eyes and curses internally, fuck!

He chooses to wait until the sun sets, until he can use darkness as a blanket.

It doesn't take long.

Within three hours the sun is gone and in its place is a new moon.

He takes a deep breath and climbs the stairs slowly, quietly.

Relief fills him when his feet touch the concrete ground.

He peers around the corner and they're still there, grr-ing unintelligably.

He presses his back to the wall before hurrying across the street and hiding once again.

They don't see him, not this time.

He walks farther down the street at a brisk pace stopping only once when he finds an abandoned bike. He takes it.

He hasn't been on a bike since he was nine, but he'll take the chance. Quickly he straps the fire extinguisher to the handlebar as he chooses to carry the sharpest and biggest blade he owns in his hand. Just in case.

He hops on and tries to get his bearings together, breathing deeply before he steps on the peddles and rides.

He's wobbly at first, but he doesn't fall and best of all- he doesn't make much of a sound.

He peddles fast, further still until he reaches highway 22. By then he's tired, exhausted, and his legs are cramping.

But he hasn't had a mishap, hasn't seen another infected.

And he knows that if he keeps going he'll reach a few apartment complexes meant for the wealthy if the gates are anything to go by.

However, his goal isn't the apartments.

No.

His goal is to reach the department store behind the gated apartments.

He crosses the highway without a problem, though his heart clenches when he sees many cars flipped over or piled up in a crash.

He keeps riding.

Until eventually he stops.

The road leading to the store is steep, as if it were a hill and he knows he can't peddle fast enough to make it. His legs already ache and he's aware that eventually he'll need to run.

So, he stops.

He unhooks the extinguisher and gently lowers the bike.

He stares up at the large building and sighs.

The hike longer than he'd like.

But finally, he makes it.

He finds it odd, however, that he hasn't had another encounter with an undead.

It's been quiet for the most part and it almost feels like he isn't in a nightmare anymore

He wonders where they are.

There should be dozens crawling about, he knows.

Quietly, he shakes his head and rids his mind from those thoughts.

He chooses to look around, to focus on his surroundings.

The lights are off and everything is shrouded in darkness. He can't see much of anything.

His steps echo as he walks, the sound making a shiver crawl up his spine.

He looks around the store and his first stop is the small pharmacy, searching for Tylenol and antibiotics, anything that can become useful.

He pauses when he notices shelves knocked over, miscellaneous spills dried on the floor.

He places his bag down along with the extinguisher, but holds onto the knife's handle even tighter.

He's briefly distracted by the destruction, until he isn't.

He hears a dull thud before he feels pain radiate from his arm. Suddenly he can't hold onto his knife anymore and it clatters at his feet loudly.

His heart begins to race as his mind becomes muddled with confusion. He stares at his trembling hand, breath hitching when he sees red.

He turns around slowly with wide doe eyes before he collapses.

A single word breathed in the darkness, "shit."