Free Dead Moon: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller by Matthew James Page A

to be comfortable and at peace with leaving this place behind. The best way is to be at ease while you sleep. Especially with the past she and Joan have. If she never sees the other woman again, at least Betty will be able to have one more night around her things. She can say a proper goodbye.
    I awake with a groan, feeling all the bumps from yesterday. The numbing effects of the alcohol are gone—except the headache.
    Damn… Is that the third time I’ve woken up with a hangover in less than a day? Impressive…
    She does the same. I can actually hear Betty wake with the same pain filled moan I did.
    “You okay?” I ask, rubbing my head.
    “Fine,” she replies, “but this is why I stick to beer.”
    I laugh and wince at the sharp twinge of pain that shoots through my head. “Me too.”
    She steps out of the bedroom, looking disheveled. Rings and bags encompass her eyes. Crying.
    “Where are you going to go?” I ask, standing, concerned for my new friend.
    She shrugs. “The water. Maybe I can find a boat or something and drift. Anywhere but here is preferable.”
    I laugh. “No shit.”
    She laughs and drains the remnants of a water bottle. “I’m going back to my place first and getting a few things.”
    “Like a change of clothes?” I motion to my own wrecked attire. “Wish I’d thought of packing a bag before I bolted from my place.”
    Wish I grabbed my shotgun, too.
    She stands and heads for the front door. “You had a good reason to leave quickly.”
    “True enough.”
    She walks down the short hallway and grabs for the knob. I follow close behind, but stop when I see a familiar shape just inside the hall closet. I slide the door open all the way and reach in, procuring another new toy.
    It’s a forty-two-inch pry bar—says so on the label—and comes complete with the two-pronged hook thing on the end. I look over the yellow painted steel and hold it up for Betty to see. It’s used, but still in good condition.
    “Joan helped her brother with odds and ends. Construction and car repair, mostly. She’s got tools everywhere.”
    “May I?” I ask, wanting permission to take it.
    “Knock yourself out.”
    “I hope not.”
    She smiles and pulls open the door, stepping into the hall. She looks left and is tackled to the ground by a short, stocky, grey skinned man, disappearing from sight around the right-hand corner of the door’s opening.
    A Goblin!
    I rush out as Betty screams, but it’s cut short by a gurgle. I round the corner and find it on top of her, biting into her neck.
    “No!” I yell and swing, bringing the clawed end of the pry bar around, slamming it home into the creature’s temple. It slumps to the side, its skull crushed from the blow.
    I kneel to help Betty, but there’s no helping her. Blood pours from the open wound and her skin is already paling. I fall to my knees, tears rolling down my cheeks. The woman who showed me such hospitality when everything else has tried to kill me, is dying.
    I take her blood-soaked hand in mine, comforting her as best I can. Her grip is already weak. She’s fading fast.
    “I’ll find Joan,” I say, trying to give her hope, knowing the truth already. “I’ll make sure she’s—”
    “She’s dead.”
    “How do you know?”
    Her eyes flicker down the hall. “The body you saw…on the stairs. The one in…the towel.”
    And there’s my confirmation.
    “She was coming…to check…on me…when we lost…power.” Her next few words are gargled. “In…shower…when—”
    Her eyes go glassy and her hand falls limp. Betty is gone, hopefully joining Joan in peace. Feeling terrible for what I’m about to do, I reach into her purse and take her Taser, pocketing it.
    A growl makes me jump to my feet and I spin, raising my pry bar. I cock it back like a baseball bat, ready to beat the shit out of anything I can get my hands on.
    “Damn…” I say, my shoulders slumping.
    There are five more of the Goblins down the hall, not twenty feet