Free Only The Dead Don't Die by A.D. Popovich

the building turned her legs to lumps of lifeless logs. She couldn’t breathe as fear filled her lungs. She had a feeling that the pack of creepers she had passed a minute ago was probably already hot on her trail. How do they always find me? She needed to find sanctuary: pronto. But, Scarlett had never broken into a home before and didn’t have the slightest clue of what to do. Suddenly, she felt the back of her neck tingle, and a voice in her head warned her, and she listened.
    Scarlett snatched a plant-less clay pot heavy with dried soil, slamming it into the golden-glass entryway window next to the front door without thinking of the possible consequences. The deafening sound seemed to echo off the walls and her heart. With no time to waste, she quickly knocked out the remaining protruding shards with the bat and squeezed into the small opening, daring to steal a glance over her shoulder just as a pack of creepers came into view. They saw her. And they eagerly juddered towards her like anxious mangy puppy dogs from hell.
    Trying not to panic in the dark entryway of the townhouse, she darted inside the first door she found and leaned against it heavily. Still holding her breath, she delved into her purse. Where’s the flashlight?
    She frantically flashed the light around the room. “What?” she was in the garage. The sounds of crunching glass behind the closed door made her stomach suddenly turn acidic. She was safe in the garage. Or was she? There was no way to lock the door from the inside of the garage. She was safe unless they opened the door. That did not sound very promising. Can creepers open doors ? She couldn’t take that chance. They had seen her enter the townhouse, and she knew how relentless they were. She tugged on the manual garage door release and went back into the darkening night.
    Scarlett reeled down three rows of townhouses and went door to door, breathlessly trying each knob, praying that someone had left in a hurry, without locking the door. It was dark now with only the light of the moon and the flashlight to guide her. A scuffling sound too close for comfort sent a chill down her spine, causing her to panic. She ducked behind a bush and waited several terrifying minutes until the scampering sounds finally faded off somewhere into the darkness.
    Taking long, slow, deep breaths, Scarlett managed to go from panic to stealth mode, quietly slipping from door to door. Finally, a doorknob turned. She didn’t bother to knock; she just let herself inside and locked the door.
    “Hello, anybody home?” she announced as loudly as she dared. She listened carefully to the silence. If the townhome’s residents were home, surely they’d have confronted her by now. What if they shoot me? Really, get a grip . She stood in the downstairs entryway struggling with her nerves. With a trembling hand, she beamed the flashlight to get a layout of the downstairs. The townhome was similar to Jeff’s: the garage, laundry room, and front entryway were downstairs.
    “Hello, anyone home?” she called out a little louder, climbing the stairs. She crept about in sneak-mode from room to room, thinking that at any second a creeper might pounce on her out of the darkness, and her clammy grip tightened on the bat.
    The living room, kitchen, dining room, and bedrooms were all upstairs. And after her breath-holding search, she realized the home was empty. No people. No creepers. Scarlett flopped down on the sofa in relief. She wondered where the homeowners were right now, this very second. Were they even alive? Had they made it to one of the shelters?
    Her curiosity would not stop nagging; besides, she needed a distraction. She was far too tense to even think about sleeping. So she snooped around with the flashlight and noticed a paper printout on the computer desk. The printout listed the major Evac Shelters. From the best of her knowledge, it listed nearly every auditorium and stadium in California. Circled in red marker