Page 36 of Redemption
After taking a moment to silently say goodbye to Baylor and successfully escaping the base, I had three main directives I needed to fulfill before I even thought about stopping for a break.
Number one: Flee the area, creating enough distance between me and Waverly’s group that there was no way they could find me and kill me the minute they did.
Number two: Find shelter. It didn’t matter if it was under a rock, as long as it provided some sort of security from the undead hordes.
Number three: Find provisions. I left with nothing but the clothes on my back and absolutely no fucking weapons to my name. Luckily, I managed to find a knife on one of the undead, so at least I’m not completely vulnerable. But, even with the added level of defense the weapon provides, I still need to find water and then some sort of food. Since I used the river to escape, you would think I could’ve filled a canteen right there but, unfortunately, the brackish water wasn’t suitable for drinking. As for food, the weakness overtaking my limbs is unfortunately making it a necessity to find nourishment sooner rather than later, or else I’m going to pass out from malnourishment. And if that happens out in the open? I’m already dead.
At this point, I’m running on autopilot, my body surging with adrenaline and the driving desire to just survive the day. I’m manic to the point I don’t even want to blink in case something tries to attack me during the half-second my eyes are closed. The infected are everywhere now. Not only within the gates, but in the surrounding town as well.
The streets run red with the slaughter I continue to carry out. My muscles ache with overuse and exhaustion, but I can’t slow down, can’t rest for even a second before I find a safe place to keel over and hopefully not die as my body settles. My dry throat screams at me as I try and fail to swallow, my vision becoming blurry momentarily before clearing in the next instance.
Water.
I need to find water.
Not only to drink but to bathe. I’m already a health hazard, being covered in the toxic remnants of God knows how many deadheads. All things considered, I’m surprised I’ve not contracted the virus already. Regardless, I’m not taking any chances. Which means I can’t eat or drink anything until I’m clean or else I could potentially contaminate my food and then myself in the process.
Unfortunately, there’s no way I can backtrack to the river I just jumped out of, not when I know I’d have to fight my way out of it all over again. So, still covered in blood and guts, I continue my trek away from the base.
With one foot in front of the other, I make my way down the highway and through town, astonished as I gaze upon the four lanes meant for heavy traffic, now standing completely empty.
After a half mile, I take a turn down a side street and am instantly hit with bittersweet nostalgia. I’ve traveled down this particular road hundreds of times during my tour at this base, but I’ve never seen it like this.
Restaurant Row. That’s what Alessandra called it. Dozens of restaurants line the street, one right after the other, along with a hospital, medical offices, the community college, and a quaint little shopping center. Only now, it’s a deserted wasteland. Overturned garbage bins, discarded vehicles, and rotting carcasses now fill the once lively place.
I stop in the middle of the road and weigh my options. The mall is on my right side, the hospital on my left. Both would be beneficial to visit and possibly stay in for the night and catch up on some rest. They’d also be perfect for stocking up on supplies.
My gaze drifts to the hospital. It has beds. Antibiotics. Antiseptic. Medicines I know I’ll probably need in the future. And best of all...
Stockpiles of Hibiclens—the soap specifically made for medical personnel to eliminate all kinds of gross shit and leave you feeling squeaky clean.
Decision made, I run up to the hospital’s entrance and pry the sliding doors open before heading inside. Silence greets me as I wander the halls. I’ve never actually been in this facility, since all my medical needs were covered by the hospital on base, so it takes me a little bit to find what I’m looking for. Eventually, after orienting myself with the facility’s maze-like qualities, I locate a sign directing me to the pharmacy on the second level.
The pharmacy doors have key-card locks on them that must have automatically engaged during the power outage, keeping everyone out and the supplies within safe from theft.But one look to the left and I realize I have another option. The plexiglass window separating the patients from the pharmacy staff takes a little doing but, after wiggling the hinges a bit, it finally gives way, opening the one side wide enough for me to shimmy in and access the back room.
It's full. Top to bottom, left to right, absolutely stocked with everything anyone could ever need as far as pharmaceuticals go...
It’s not until I round a corner at the back that I realize it’s also filled with deadheads.
FUCK!
I turn and start to race back to the window, wanting to heave myself over the check-in desk and run as fast as I can back down the stairs, but I stop at the last second.
Something’s wrong.
It’s too quiet.
Silent.
Turning, I confirm the empty space around me. The hollow expanse echoes my own heartbeat louder than anything else. Curious, I tiptoe back, my hushed steps returning me to the far wall and to the twenty or so Infected I saw huddled back there.
Peeking around the shelf, they’re still where I left them. In fact, I don’t think they even moved an inch. I’m less than six feet from their grouping, but not one of them seems to have any interest in me.
Not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t they chasing me? What’s different?
I look down at myself, at my clothing now covered in Infected blood and gore.
Is it because they can’t smell me?
