Free The Last Days of October by Jackson Spencer Bell Page B

She recalled that time Mike had
hit a deer with his truck on base up in Norfolk.   The military policeman had asked him if he
wanted to keep it.   Mike had declined.
    They want him.
    “He’s all yours,”
Heather announced.   The Walkers, shrouded
in darkness, didn’t move.   It took her an
instant to understand that they hadn’t been waiting for her permission; the light
was simply too strong up at the front of the store, even where Clyde lay.
    But it wouldn’t
remain that way indefinitely.   As the day
dragged on, the shadows here would lengthen, creep forward.
    And when they did
that, the Walkers would claim Clyde.  
    She hurried out of
the store.

 
    10.

 
    Outside, the sun
poured the light of science and rationality upon downtown Deep Creek.   Barely a hundred feet away, the bodies
swung.    Ropes creaked beneath their
weight.
    Take care , they said.   Vampires
aren’t your only enemies.
    True, Heather
realized.   Cheap bread couldn’t have gone
stale as quickly as the remains of modern society had disintegrated.   If she and her child were to survive this,
she would need to reevaluate her plan.   A
lot of road lay between Deep Creek and the army base at Fort Bragg;
they couldn’t count on every live person they met along the way being
helpful.   With the police gone and the
courthouses deserted, the rule of law existed only in the memories of
survivors.   Without its protection, the
strong and numerous could simply take what they wanted.
    “We need to stay
put,” she whispered.   “Ride this
out.   Let help come to us.”
    And what if help doesn’t come?   The bodies asked.   What if there is no army
anymore and the next people you meet are armed marauding freaks a la Mad
Max Beyond Thunderdome who decide to make
a little harem out of you and your daughter?
    “Then I’m going to
kill a lot of fucking people,” she growled to the silent air.
    And before the air
could answer, a voice behind her asked, “Who’re you going to kill?”
    She jumped.   The boy standing in the street behind Heather
looked about Amber’s age but could have been even younger.   His wispy blond hair rose and fell in a
breeze that kept the bodies behind her swaying from their creaking ropes.   He glanced up at them momentarily before
looking back at her, a white Chevrolet pickup truck idling quietly behind him.
    She removed the
pistol from her waistband and pointed it at him.   She wouldn’t let her guard down twice, boy or
not.   He raised his hands.
    “Easy,” he said.
    “Stay over there.”
    “Okay.   No problem.   I can do that.   Just don’t shoot
me, okay?”
    “What are you
doing here?” she asked.
    “I came to cut
them down,” he said, gesturing with his head at the bodies.   “I got a ladder in the back of my truck.   I was going to climb it and cut them down.   Cover them up.   There’s a tarp under the ladder.   Go ahead and look.”
    Hands held up, he
backed away and to the side as Heather approached the truck.   She threw a glance into the bed.
    A ladder.   A tarpaulin.   A toolbox.
    “Look, lady,” he
said, “I get it, okay?   I totally
understand why you’d be a little, I don’t know, paranoid.   It’s all good.   But seriously, I just came here to cut these
folks down so I don’t have to see crows pecking at their frigging eyes every
time I drive by.”
    “You have
something to do with this?”
    “ No ,” he said with an emphatic shake of
the head.   “I just want to cut them
down.   It’s the right thing to do.”
    He squinted at
her.   “What happened to your face?”
    She reached up
with her left hand and felt her cheek.   It felt raw, tender.   “How does it
look?”
    “You got a bruise
coming up.”
    “You should see
the other guy.”
    His eyes fell to
the pistol in her right hand, which she still hadn’t lowered.
    “Man bring his
fists to a gunfight?”
    “Something like
that.”
    He bit his lower
lip and breathed slowly.   “He