Free Run: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller by Rich Restucci Page A

stack of Penthouse magazines could be seen inside. 
    Earl closed the desk with his leg and sat in the chair, flicking the TV on as he sat. The emergency broadcast signal was playing, with the names of shelters running from left to right at the bottom. He turned the ancient TV dial to the next channel, and was rewarded with the same signal. “The hell?” he asked. Earl rotated the dial again, and the same banner was playing at the bottom of the screen, but this time there was a reporter yelling at the public.
    “…or go to the Sacramento street rescue station, it has been overrun. The barricades have fallen and people are fleeing for their lives! If you can hear this, get out of the city by any means necessary, as quickly as possible! The army has been moving through the city running clean and sweep operations…”
    The reporter put his hand to his left ear and looked down for a second. “I’ve just gotten word,” he continued, “that the entire Haight Asbury section of the city has been lost to the undead menace. The Monterey Boulevard Rescue Station has been completely destroyed!” Shambling figures could be seen advancing behind the reporter as he continued to list off parts of the city that were under siege. “Garrett, we gotta go,” someone said from off camera. The camera dipped a little and the reporter turned around. He brought the mic back to his mouth and said in a trembling voice: “We have to go now, but stay tuned. This is Garret Rhodes reporting from Down Town San Francisco for The Heart of Frisco, Channel 9 news.”  
    The feed switched to an anchor man seated behind a blue desk. “That, folks, was terrifying. As you can see, in the overlay, sections of our city are burning out of control.” A picture-in-picture popped on screen, displaying an aerial view of greasy black smoke plumes in various sections of the city. “The following rescue stations are to be avoided at all costs…” 
    Earl switched the TV off. “Ok, so I believe you, now what?” 
    “We’re gonna sit this out for a bit, then we’re headed for Alcatraz,” Rick answered. 
    Rick heard a squealing of hydraulic brakes and went to the small window. He pushed the curtain to the left, and looked out on Minna Street. He smiled and let out a happy grunt. 
    “What is it?” asked Earl 
    “I think Hell actually just froze over,” Rick replied. 
    Rick and Earl started down the stairs when there was a light knock on the theater’s front door.  
    An unfamiliar voice called through the door: “Do you have any Miracle Whip?” 
    Three guns pointed at the door simultaneously.  
    “Wait!” Rick called down the spiral stairs. “It’s Dallas!” 
    “Didn’t sound like Dallas,” Chris was obviously suspicious. 
    “It is. I saw him pull up in the garbage truck through a window upstairs.”  
    Rick reached the bottom of the stairs and ran to the door. “Dallas?” he called. 
    “Yep,” came the burly man’s reply, “Open up!” 
    Rick pushed the push bar and the steel door opened wide. Dallas and a bare foot man dressed in bloody hospital scrubs came in. Rick pulled the door closed and turned to face Dallas. Dallas spoke up first. 
    “I realize that I kinda just met you, but I’m darn glad to see you again, Bubba.” 
    “Likewise there, chief. Who’s your friend?” asked Rick. 
    “You know me, always pickin’ up strays. This is Billy.” Billy took a step forward, and when he did, Dallas made a couple of small clockwise circles near his temple with his index finger. 
    “Name’s Billy,” Billy said to Rick. He moved on repeating the same thing to each of the others in the theater, stopping at Chris and asking some questions. 
    “How’re we doin’, Hoss?” Dallas asked. 
    “Place is pretty secure. We’ve got a little food, and plenty to drink, and there’s only three entrances, all steel fire doors.” Rick pointed behind him. “This is my dad, Paul, and this is Earl, he works here.” Paul