Five

          “Grocery store,” Cole suggests.

            “Too big for two people,” Jagger protests.

            “Drug store.”

            “Not enough food.”

            “Wal-Mart?”

            “Do I even need to explain to you how ridiculous that idea is?” Jagger’s arms are folded across his chest in aggravation at Cole. I’m not surprised though. All morning Cole has been making plans that are just to make me, a novice as Jagger calls it, end up dead.

            “What about a 7/11?” Cole sighs, pointing out one of the school’s windows. Sure enough, down the street there’s a convenience store. It looks completely normal except that the front window has a gaping hole in it.

            Jagger opens his mouth to respond but Emily quickly raises her voice. “You’re never going to be satisfied. We can see it from here, it’s not a big deal. It’s not like the girl has a chance, anyways.”

            “Thanks,” I mutter, not quiet enough for only Bullet to hear. He nudges his head into my thigh and I stroke his head.

            I know she heard me but Emily ignores my words. She stares at Jagger, her hands on her hips and he stares back. To me, it looks like they’re speaking telepathically.

            “Fine,” he finally says, throwing his hands in the air. “Go get the things ready.”

            A short time later Cole and I each have a fairly large and empty backpack, jackets that cover our bare arms and a simple list of things we need to get. As we stand at the front doors of the school, the one’s I came through when Jagger rescued me, I watch Cole load a rifle and realize I’m defenceless.

            “Where’s my shotgun?” I ask before we open the doors.

            Cole shoots me a look as if to say, “Are you kidding me?”

            “We don’t trust you yet,” Emily says, glaring at me. “So unless you’d like to search the whole school for your gun, you go out there and make sure you get what we need.”

            I turn to Jagger, my hands balled into fists at my sides. They want me to go out there defenceless and risk my life with no protection. Are they insane? I’ll get myself killed, no doubt. But maybe that’s exactly what they want.

            “Get me my gun,” I tell Jagger sternly. He studies my face, but doesn’t respond. Either he agrees with the others on this one, or they told him to keep his mouth shut. Apparently majority rules in the apocalypse

            “What’s he doing?” Jack points across the room to Bullet, whose nose is low on the ground as he sprints down the hall. “Were you going to bring him with you?”

            “Yes,”  I reply, just as Cole says no. “I’m not going anywhere without him.”

            “Well that’s too bad,” he mutters, adjusting his backpack. “Let’s go.”

            I take a few slow steps towards the double doors, unsure of whether I should be doing this or not. As Cole’s fingers grip the one of the doors, about to push it open, I hear the sound of claws sliding on the uncarpeted floor.

            “No way,” Emily mumbles.

            I turn around to see Bullet sitting in front of me, my shotgun in his mouth. I take the slobbery gun away from him and wipe my hand on the skirt of my dress.

            “He did that when I tried to leave my house,” I tell everyone, patting Bullet’s head. “As I said before, he’s coming with me.”

            This time nobody protests.

            I expect Jagger to say something to me as we open to doors, right before we head out into Zombie-Land. But he doesn’t. He’s confusing me more and more every day. One moment he’s nice to me, defending me and helping me patch up my wounds and the next he’s ignoring me. Can he not be hot and cold for five minutes?

            “Three, two, one,” Cole says, reading to run out the doors. “Go.”

            We burst into the fading day and start jogging towards the 7/11. We look around, scanning for zombies but see none. In fact, everything is just as deserted as it was when I walked to the school with Bullet. He sniffs the ground, circling Cole and I for protection as we make our way down the street.

            “We should walk, save our breath for now,” Cole says quietly, slowing to a walk. I match his pace and we continue on our way, looking around constantly for any type of threat. I readjust my grip on the shotgun as we near our destination and Cole does the same. “Where are they?”

            I shrug, still unsure. “Maybe the one’s that chased me were the only zombies that knew you guys were in the school. The other ones must be somewhere else.”

            “Do you think they can smell us?” I give Cole a confused look, surprised that he’s actually not being rude to me. When he sees me staring, he quickly turns away, shrugging his shoulders like I had. “Jack keeps asking me and now I’m curious.”

            “If they could, I’m sure we would be surrounded by now. My guess is that they go more by sight and sound.”

            “I hope your right,” he mutters, slowing his pace to the 7/11. When we reach the front of it he looks in the broken window, thinking. “The emergency alarm might come on if we open the door. We’re better to go in through the window.”

            He starts clearing the broken glass with the handle of his gun and I help him until we have a relatively safe space to jump through without getting shredded. Cole goes in first, holding his gun up as he looks around. I start to follow; only to hear Bullet whimper, not wanting to be separated.

            “He can’t jump through the window,” I tell Cole, trying to figure out what to do. “I don’t want to leave him outside.”

            “So far it’s clear outside. The dog will be fine and he will bark or growl or do whatever he wants when he thinks he’s in danger. Just leave him and listen if that makes you feel better.”

            I scratch Bullet’s ear and murmur to him about staying safe before climbing through the window. Cole’s waiting for me and grabs my shoulder, barely touching me as I stumble my way in.

            “You grab the food, I’ll get everything else,” Cole says, taking off his backpack. I do the same with mine as he separates from me, going through the aisles. I start dumping cans of lasting food into the backpack and when it starts to get heavy, I start putting other things in that aren’t necessities. If I can’t carry anymore cans I might as well get things that aren’t going to last but we can eat right away.

            I start scrapping my hand along one of the shelves, dropping things like chocolate bars and junk food into the backpack. When I’m done, I throw it over my shoulders and cringe at the weight. Just when I’m planning my next move, something flashes across my eyes…

            “Hurry up, Sloane!” My younger sister calls, skipping ahead of me down the sidewalk. Her brown curls dance around her oval face as she twirls. “I want to get home before my show starts!”

            I shake my backpack around, as if the heavy weight of my textbooks will suddenly lessen. I open my mouth to respond to her but just before anything comes out…

            “Slone!” Cole yells, his voice hoarse. “What the fuck are you doing?”

            I blink a few times, finally coming out of the memory. I want to ask him what’s going on and where is he, but I can’t even think over the sound of the loud barking. It’s ringing in my ears and my head’s still too foggy to comprehend what’s going on.

            “Sloane!” Cole calls again. “Get away from there!”

            I suddenly realize where I am. My right hand is gripping the shelf so tightly that my knuckles are turning white. My knees feel like jelly and if I move, they might fail to keep me upright. Bullet’s barking quickly turns into vicious snarls, telling me that something is most definitely wrong.

            The second I recognize that I need to turn around is a second too late.

            One of the undead grabs my backpack and yanks me back, trying to bring me to them. I thrash and move, trying to get out of its grip the moment I hear it groan right behind my left ear. My other hand starts to lose its grip in the shotgun when I realize what I have to do.

            I don’t stop thrashing as I raise it above my head, both my hands gripping it tightly in fear that my sweaty palms might let it slide to the floor. I close my eyes tightly and move it forward before using as much momentum as I can to slam the end of the shotgun into the zombie’s forehead.

            I groans but from annoyance rather than pain. It instantly lets go and I trip forward before catching myself. I immediately turn around and start walking backwards, pointing the barrel at the man’s head. He’s wearing sweatpants and a sweater over a wife beater, every inch of the clothing either ripped or caked in mud. He’s not wearing any shoes.

            I don’t know why I notice that half of his left foot is gone, or why I bother to even look there anyways as I move my finger to the trigger. But as soon as I feel the cold metal touch my burning skin, I feel my eyes start to cloud and fear kicks in.

            I’m about to remember something and despite how desperately I want to know what it is, I can’t allow myself to die. I bite my tongue as hard as I can, bringing me back to the moment. The man is stumbling towards me and I look to Cole. He’s fighting off another zombie, trying to push him away so he can shoot him.

            I start to taste blood in my mouth and the man knows it. He moves faster towards me, struggling because his own dead body is failing him. As if by instinct, I move my eyes to the top of the gun, lining up my shot again. Before I can wonder how I know to do this, I’m pulling the trigger and the zombie’s head consists only of a jaw.

            I literally blew its head off.

            I hear another gunshot but the sound it fainter this time because my ears are still ringing from my own. Cole starts to yell for me but I don’t hear him right away until he’s almost at my side.

            “Sloane, we need to go,” he says, his words rushed. He pushes my shoulder, getting me to move quickly beside him. “If your theory about hearing is right, we’re going to have some more shots to fire if we don’t get back to the school quick enough.”

            I slow as he jumps through the window and lands swiftly on his feet. I follow in suit and lose my balance. Bullet barks for me to hurry as I move my hand to catch my slip and press down on shards of glass.

            Tears instantly form in my eyes at the pain but I push any thought about looking at the damage away. We have to get back to the school or a cut hand is the least of my worries.

            “Sloane,” Cole mutters, grabbing my arm and yanking me out of the window. He steadies me on my feet. He doesn’t let go as we take off in a sprint towards the school.

            “Where did those two come from?” I ask between breaths. Bullet gallops beside me, his eyes searching around the street for any threats.

            “They were in the back room,” Cole responds, explaining where the zombies had come from. When we went in I didn’t see any, but I also didn’t look every isle or the back room for them.

            As we near the school, the gym doors burst open and Jagger is yelling gesturing for us to move faster. Chancing a look behind me, I see scattered undead coming out of their hiding places, starting quickly on our trail.

            “Get them, Cole!” Jagger yells and Cole turns around, aiming his gun.

            Bullet pushes me towards the door and I start to pick up my pace, the gun shots beginning to ring in my ears. I’m almost there; almost home free when I hear Cole scream. I need to turn around but I’m scared of what I’ll see. I clench my teeth as I turn to face the undead.

            A woman swats Cole’s gun away and it hits the ground and bounces a few feet away. He turns to run backwards but the zombie woman grabs his shirt, clenching her hand as tightly as she can. Only a moment goes by before she throws him onto the ground and the rest of the group reaches him.