Free 900 Miles (Book 2): 900 Minutes by S. Johnathan Davis Page A

rock chips, clearly used to cover the melting black tar spread across the whole of the roof. Pulling my fists tight, I flinched as each step forward crunched into the open air as if we were stepping across a sea of fortune cookies. 
    Kyle nodded to me before taking off to the far side of the building to survey our surroundings while I moved toward the drop-off directly in front of us.
    Digging my nails into my rifle, I edged toward the two-story drop. My eyes almost immediately landed on the waving arms of a creature plopped down against the far wall across from where I was perched. Ducking down a bit, I first thought the damn thing was pointing toward me, trying to signal that there was a bite-sized snack up on the roof.
    Cursing myself for being caught, once again, on a goddamned roof, I squinted to get a better look at the courtyard. Not finding any other creatures below, my eyes fell on a double barrel shotgun lying just feet from the Z. Looking more closely at the creature slumped against the wall, I winced as I realized it very clearly had a hole blown through its stomach.
    The pebbles below me cracked in place as I slid slightly closer to the edge of the building. Leaning forward a bit, I could just barely make out that its arms were twisting around its body in a circling motion, moving back and forth from its missing stomach to its head.
    Lifting the rifle to my face, I peered down the scope on the weapon to get a little more up-close-and-personal with the thing. Leveling the sight on its head, I watched in horror as I realized what the monster was doing. It was lying there, perfectly content, shoveling chunks of regurgitated flesh into its mouth, only to have them pushed down its throat and out the cavity that used to be its stomach. Then it was reaching down, grabbing the same chunks of meat, and shovel them back into its lifeless jaws again.
    Feeling a bit of vomit hit the back of my throat; I slid my index finger toward the trigger. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the barrel slightly to move the crosshairs along the gray flesh left on its forehead. Its hair had all but fallen out, and a dark cavity was all that remained in place of an eye that had long ago been plucked from its mangled face. I found it slightly amazing that I could get sick after everything I’ d seen. Guess that means I still actually felt something back then.
    “ I would n’ t do that ,” Kyle whispered, walking up behind me .“ We do n’ t want to draw their attention just yet. Besides, yo u’ re an awful sho t …”
    Exhaling the deep breath, I’ d been holding for too long, I blinked my eyes, lowered the rifle, and turned around to see him grinning at me. 
    Deciding he was right, but not wanting to acknowledge it, I shifted my shoulders while reaching into a side pocket on my vest. Pulling out my cell phone, I slid the unlock feature on the screen and pulled it to my face to see the time. W e’ d already been gone for hours. Time was slipping away like specks of sand through an hourglass. Looking past my phone, blankly staring at the white pebbles on the roof, I found myself simply hoping that there would be enough specks for us to get home.
    Glancing at my phone, Kyle asked ,“ Why do you carry that thin g… waiting for cell service to flip back on ? ”
    “ I t’ s my only clock. I do n’ t have an old-ass wristwatch like you . ”
    Like so many others before the apocalypse, I’ d had my face constantly plastered to the thing. I’ d be more panicked if I left the house without my phone than my wallet. Of course, now it did n’ t have cell service or Internet access. Yet, there I was, still tethered to the damn thing.
    I once read that amputees often experience what they cal l“ phantom sensation s” in their lost appendages. Better put, they continue to feel pain in an arm or leg that has been removed as if it was still there. In the same sense, I could n’ t help but tap on the email or browser apps from time-to-tim