Page 10 of Dating After the End of the World
As he cries out in pain, I drive the palm of my hand up into his nose. It makes a crunchy noise and sends him flying backward, his head cracking against the floor. He kicks and flails, wailing like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
Propping myself up with my elbows, I meet the gaze of the other burner, the one struggling with Nate. In an instant, I’m on my feet, stomping in his direction. He wears fear like I wear a pair of scrubs, and by that, I mean he wears it well, like it was made for him. The burner releases Nate and takes a step back. If he were smart, he would run. Nate seizes the opportunity by raising his elbow and driving it into the man’s stomach. Before I can join in, something grabs hold of my ankle, yanking me down on all fours. My knees and the palms of my hands smash against the floor.
“Gotcha, bitch,” the blind burner spits. His free arm thrashes wildly until his hand locks onto my other ankle. I try to pull away or kick, but he has my ankles bolted in place, so I’m in the position of an awkward mountain climber exercise. I try to call for Nate, but it comes out as a raspy whisper.
Nate turns and kicks the other burner square in the chest, sending him crashing into the granite countertop. He looks to me as I struggle to free myself from the blind burner. Then Nate’s gaze goes to the bloodied body lying next to me, my home run. Satin begins to twitch, coming back to consciousness. Nate’s eyes dart to the screaming burner who still has me in his grip, then to the burner he sent flying into the countertop—who’s now regaining his footing.
I’m sure Nate’s coming up with a plan in his head, one that will end in him rising to the occasion as my knight in shining armor. It looks like he’s about to charge at the burner staggering toward him, but he doesn’t. Instead, Nate runs ... right out the front door. The man I’ve been with for more than two years, who asked me to marry him two and a half months ago, who told me he loved me just a few minutes ago ... gone in an instant.Fucking great.I knew he wasn’t cut out for an apocalypse.
Using all the strength I have left, I flip myself over onto my back, twisting an ankle free from the burner’s grasp in the process. I bring my knee up to my chest and kick as hard as I can right into his open, screaming mouth. A half dozen teeth shatter, shooting into the back of his throat, causing him to gag and choke on the yellow-tinted chunks of calcium.
I’m back on my feet just as the other burner changes course from bolting out the door after Nate to now charging toward me. I sprint around the island counter, reaching the stove before he gets to me. My hand grips the handle of the pot filled with boiling water and rice, and I whip it, flinging the contents right into his face. The grains of soft rice cling to his skin, causing the flesh to blister and cook.
His scream blows past his falsetto range, piercing my ears. He frantically tries to flick and scrape the bubbling rice from his skin. This is my chance to run. I pick up my baseball bat from beside the couch and grab my prepacked getaway bag from the front closet, ready to bolt out the door. But I stop suddenly, realizing I’m forgetting something ... and I can’t leave without it. I sprint down the hall into our bedroom and pull open the top drawer of the dresser. Pushing aside balled-up socks, my hand grasps the object. The memory of my dad giving it to me flashes to the front of my mind.
“Here, take this.”
“No, Dad. I’m not bringing a gun to college.”
“It’s for your own protection.”
“No, I don’t need it, and it’s not even legal on campus.”
“Fine, then at least take this.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a combat knife, and with your training, it’s deadlier than a gun anyway.”
“I don’t want a combat knife either, Dad.”
“Please. For my own peace of mind. You can hide it in a drawer for all I care, but I just need to know that if the time ever comes, you have something to protect yourself with.”
“Fine ... I’ll take your stupid knife.”
“Thank you.”
I turn the blade over in my hands a couple of times, studying it like I’m reacquainting myself with an old, reliable friend. A burner groans from the kitchen, so I know it’s time to go. I bolt out of the apartment and down the stairwell, pausing before I exit the building. I can’t be sure there aren’t more of them waiting outside, but my guess is if there were, Nate would have run right into them already. Heavy footsteps descend the stairs, echoing off the cinder block walls. I let out a heavy sigh and push open the door, hoping there’s not an ambush waiting for me on the other side.
In the courtyard, my head is on a swivel, keeping a lookout for burners and searching for any clues as to where Nate could have gone. We had a plan in place for if we ever got separated, and I hope he’s following through with it. We said we’d meet at our garage in the alley, hop in his car, and drive away from whatever trouble we were in. That has to be where he’s at. He wouldn’t just leave me. I creep through the tight walkway between our building and the one next to it and slowly open the gate at the end. Rounding the corner to the alley, I expect to find Nate standing there, leaned up against his car, maybe even jokingly quotingTwilightwith a “Where have you been, loca?” But he’s not, and I can’t believe my own eyes. Not only is Nate not here, but the garage door is wide open, and his Porsche is gone too.
“You motherfuc . . .”
Chapter 5
The loud bang of a trash can toppling over a block or two away cuts my outburst short. New plan.Think, Casey, think. My truck.I search my backpack and pull out the spare key that I thankfully had the foresight to throw in there. The truck was a gift from my dad when I got my license, but I rarely drive it now, only moving it around at the city’s request for winter snow parking restrictions and street sweeping. It’s actually been a nuisance to keep, and I don’t know why I never got rid of it. Maybe deep down, I knew I’d need it one day.
I take off toward where I’m pretty sure I last left it parked, praying it’s still there. It should have been in Nate’s two-car garage, but he was not open to that idea. His excuse for that arrangement being, “It’s a Porsche, babe. It needs room to breathe.” I roll my eyes at the thought of his selfishness. He may have been charming and useful when things were normal, but clearly, he’s not a good fiancé to have in the end of times, especially since he ditched me at the first sight of danger.
The street is full of abandoned vehicles, debris, and decaying bodies. I’m careful as I move, crouching and hiding behind anything I can so as not to draw attention. Sticking close to buildings, I keep my back safe from exposure to the unknown. As I round another corner, I spot my truck parked three blocks down, still sitting untouched. I know I left a full tank of gas in it, and no one can start that old hunk of rust except for me—so the only worry I have is that someone could have siphoned my fuel.
Crossing the first street, I look both ways to make sure the coast is clear. There’s nothing except abandoned vehicles and shattered storefronts. It looks like a bomb was dropped right in the middle of Chicago. I pause to listen for any potential sounds of danger, like snarls and groans from a biter or just another human’s voice. You can’t trust anyone these days. The wind whips through the city, curving its way through hollowed-out buildings, emitting an eerie whistle unlike anything I’ve ever heard before.
I pass by the next two streets without a hitch, and I’m now within a hundred feet of my truck. A sense of relief washes over me—but it passes quickly at the sound of a raspy growl. A biter slinks out of the alley, cutting off the clear path to my truck. Despite the fact that its nose is mostly rotted off, it sniffs the air as it shuffles. I could wait it out, see if it wanders in the other direction, but I can’t take the risk of it spotting me because it’ll attract others.
Sliding my trusty knife from its sheath, I crouch as low to the ground as I can, slowly making my way toward it. The biter stops in its tracks and twists its head around wildly, smelling the air. There’s clearly something it likes. I glance down at my bloodstained shirt, realizing it’s me.Shit.I have no choice. I’ve gotta act now.
With my knife held out in front of me, I charge at the biter. The sound of my shoes pounding against the pavement catches its attention, and it turns to face me. The creature emits a scream just as I thrust the knife at a forty-five-degree angle up under its chin, ensuring it pierces through the cerebellum and into the brain stem. Its scream is instantly extinguished. I don’t know much about these creatures, but what I do know is how to kill them, thanks to watching burners take them out on the street these past six weeks. I jerk the blade down with force, dislodging it from its skull. Black, putrid sludge oozes from the wound, remnants of blood that has long since rotted into something ... inhuman. The creature collapses to the pavement like a sack of potatoes.
