Free Fortunes & Failures - 03 by T. W. Brown Page B

on the ground floor shattered, doorways turned in to gaping holes of darkness. Some houses had sheets fluttering from second floor windows with messages like: “HELP!”, “FIVE INSIDE”, or “SOS” painted on them. It didn’t look like there were any survivors. Also, they wouldn’t be cutting through here.
    “Well?” Brett asked, edging towards the nearest of the zombies that were closing in on them from all directions.
    “We keep moving,” Chad said, dusting his hands off on the seat of his pants. “Further up, there’s an overpass if I recall. It’s worth a look.”
    “Sounds like as good of a plan as any,” Scott agreed.
    Brett stepped forward, swinging with both hands. The razor-sharp blade sliced nearly two-thirds of the way through just below the temple. With a push, he forced the body to slide from the blade. After wiping it off on the tattered remnants of the thing’s shirt, he took after Scott and Chad who were already hurrying back across the four-lane road.
     
    
     
    Kimberly Gant stared up at the canopy of branches. She couldn’t see a single cloud in the blue sky above. Focusing on those branches, she looked for shapes, designs or patterns in the leaves. Anything to occupy her mind while Duane Bowers huffed and puffed in time with his rhythmic thrusting. She was vaguely aware that he’d increased tempo. With a muffled groan, he shuddered and stopped.
    She let him lay there for a moment before she pushed him off as she scooted out from underneath. Only a slight shiver of revulsion rippled through her this time.
    “You liked that, didn’t ya?” Duane stood, pulling his pants up. He’d mistaken her reaction…again.
    “It was terrific.” Kimberly did her best to sound like those bimbos that used to talk in those chat line commercials that ran late at night.
    Once Duane wandered off through the bushes, she got up and walked over to the large, black plastic bucket and squatted over it. Picking up the bottle beside it she flipped up the nozzle, inserted into herself and squeezed. The tepid water flushed her out for the most part. Walking back over to the sleeping bag that was laid out on the ground, she picked up her bra and panties, put them back on, and sat down.
    Her mind drifted. Chad and his group had left two days ago. For some reason, almost everybody had gone with him. About ten minutes after he had left, she realized that she was the only female to stay behind. Her on-again/off-again boyfriend, Duane Bowers, and his two drinking buddies—Eugene Jasik and Ray Owens—had stayed. So had that creepy Mexican José Reyes that worked at the Casa Felíz restaurant that she used to frequent on Double Margarita Mondays.
    Then there was the sheriff, Glenn Kollars. Sheriff…that was a joke. They’d been fucking for three months when he’d told her that he had the perfect way to get rid of Chad. At first, she thought he was going to say something about having him killed. She would have never agreed to that, but instead, all she needed to do was to say that he’d molested her three-year-old daughter. It had been just that easy. Six months later, Chad was sentenced to ten years in prison. Unfortunately, by then, she and Glenn had split up.
    Kimberly bit her lower lip. She’d tried hard these last few months not to think about Phoebe, her daughter. Sometimes, in her nightmares, she heard that scream. The one she’d heard in her back yard that day. That was the day she’d put her daughter outside because Duane wanted a hummer before going into work.
    Kimberly blinked back the tears. No, scolded herself, you won’t think about that. was all about survival. Not for the first time, she wondered if perhaps Chad had the right idea. Only, he’d cut her out of his life, going so far as to get into some sort of perverted relationship with his ex…Donna. That little slut Ronni’s mother. He’d been seeing Donna since he’d gotten out, then there’d been that ‘incident’ at the rescue