Page 15 of Hunter's Valentine

If there was no one in it, that meant no bugs either, since the bugs’ only job was to feed.

Deciding to be extra safe, I braved the freezing cold for a little longer and continued to walk around the building with my bike. Nope. No garbage piles, or anything else suggesting that there were survivors here.

I went back to the entrance and found an unlocked door. I opened it just enough to roll my bike inside. As expected, premillennial decor greeted me. This place hadn’t been updated in decades. It had probably been falling apart even before the bugs and the apocalypse had been the final nail on the proverbial coffin.

There was a strange smell in the place—almost like the bugs, but not quite. That had me on edge, but then again so did the storm outside. I wasn’t sure if I hadn’t lost the tips on my ears to frostbite already. They were hurting like a mofo as they warmed up. The tips of my fingers too.

I had to take my chances. I didn’t barge in yelling “Is anyone there?” at the top of my lungs like they did in horror films. If I stayed quiet and near one of the doors, whatever was in here wouldn’t notice me. At least, it was what I told myself.

Who knew? Maybe there was no one here at all, and I was just scaring myself.

I cringed at the loud squeak my wet boots made as I stepped off the carpet and onto the tile floor. I carefully stepped back onto the carpet and dried my shoes off as best I could before wheeling my bike into a nearby store and ducking behind the counter, hoping to god that the noise of my shoes hadn’t given me away.

I double-checked to make sure my bike hadn’t left a trail. It hadn’t. Good.

It took all of five minutes for me to realize that I wasn’t alone. Three human forms came down the main corridors, walking right past the shop I was in. They didn’t look friendly. And they didn’t look healthy either. One of the women seemed almost normal but there were sores on her face and a wild look in her eyes. The other two, a man and a woman, looked almost like zombies from a movie. They shuffled instead of walked , and they had sores all over. One of them had bloodshot eyes, and the other’s were glazed over with a white substance.

Jesus! They stank too.

Not the stink of not washing for weeks; I was used to that, being in the bunker. These people smelled like the bugs.

I held my breath to prevent myself from coughing and giving myself away. Before the internet went down, I saw a video of a lion that had been like this. It was surmised that it had caught a disease from eating the bugs.

“Someone was here,” said the woman.

The other two didn’t reply but made unintelligible noises.

“It’s colder in here,” the woman continued. “The door was open. And I see footprints. Hopefully this one will have some meat on him. I’m hungry.”

I shuddered. So, cannibals then. Well, at least there was no question if they were hostile or not. No point in trying to be nice.

Instinctively, I swung my rifle forward. The two zombie-like ones were slow-moving, but who knew, maybe they got a sudden burst of speed if they found prey. Either way, they were going down if they so much as looked at me.

I was hoping they’d skip over the shop I was in, but no such luck. I decided to take a stand as soon as they walked into the store.

“Stop, or I will shoot,” I announced from behind the counter, aiming my weapon at them.

The woman that looked the most normal paused, but not the other two. They continued toward me, foaming at the mouth and salivating like they’d scented prey.

I didn’t have time to think. Just like during the bug attack, I let my training at the range take over.

Breathe in.

Relax.

Aim.

Breathe out.

Squeeze the trigger.

Keep squeezing to follow through.

The shot rang out loudly through the store, and the first guy who had been coming toward me fell to the ground. He must have been ready to fall apart anyway, because his insides splattered everywhere, like he’d stepped on a land mine.

I retched at the disgusting stench that filled the air.

Oh god!

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