The Plague

Chapter 5: The Hunt

As the sun rose, light seeped in through small cracks and holes in the ceiling. A beam of light made its way up to my face. The sun against my eyelids produced a bright red light, waking me up almost immediately. I squinted, and looked at the time. 6:13 am. I got up and looked at myself in the mirror. I realized I had forgotten to clean myself before going to bed last night. I also realized I would have to help clean Jackson at some point. The thought sickened me just as much as sleeping with infected blood all over my clothes and face.

I changed into less blood stained clothes, wiped off my face, and washed the dirt out of my hair. I tiptoed my way into the kitchen, expecting Jackson passed out on the table. Instead, she was standing upright, staring blankly into the floor. I recognized that stare, and it had a sinister meaning. I pressed my hand on my holstered gun, prepared for anything.

"Jackson?" I softly called out. Before I could even finish the word she snapped her head up so quickly it seemed to shift from one position to the next with no movement in between. I flinched at the sudden reaction.

"I couldn't sleep." She said at a level so low it was barely a whisper. "My leg kept hurting." There was an object by her side, something small and dark. I noticed a missing space in my gun racks, just a small handgun. My eyes widened.

"You shouldn't be walking." I pointed out.

"I thought I heard somebody outside." Jackson replied.

"I told you to call me if you needed something."

"I didn't want whatever was out there to hear me."

I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose. "If there's another issue, please try your best to alert me as soon as possible." She did not speak, only a faint nod.

After several seconds of awkward silence, I finally spoke. "The sun is coming up, I need to go. Keep that thing with you." I gave her two extra magazines. "Just in case."

She took it and observed it, like it was some specimen she'd never seen before. She rolled her thumb against the bullet at the top of the mag. "I'm begging you please do not use it until you absolutely have to."  She nodded in understanding. "Those things are loud and anything in the area is going to storm this whole place and then I'll have to relocate for the third time. "

She groaned. "I'm not as much of a screw up as you seem to think I am. I won't get myself killed and I won't mess up your home. Just go."

I let out a sigh, deciding not to talk about it. The sun was already up and I wanted to leave as early as I could so I can have as much time as I need to get back. With a small wave, I left the room out in the main entrance, where the restaurant used to be. I cracked open the door as softly as I could. I looked around for anything. Once it was cleared, I left.

With my rifle still on the plane, all I had with me was a simple shotgun, more magazines, and a single hand grenade. I made a mental note of all of the things I will need. Rifle. Food. Medication. There is a giant food store about an hour from here. I decided to do the hardest part first. I would get the plane first.

Without Jackson limping behind me, the journey was much shorter. It only took fifteen minutes to arrive at the beach. The plane still had a few infected, a small distraction would cause them to leave. I thought for a few seconds. I got an idea, and immediately got to work.

Twenty minutes later, I emerged from a small building only a few hundred yards from the airplane. I held a rope in my hand, which unraveled as I walked back. It was tied to a pillar which was barely holding the building together. Pulling it would cause a loud noise. Not loud enough to cause any extra trouble, but enough to cause a slight distraction.