The Book Store
Finley ran along the rooftop, spiked bat held tightly in his hand. Taking a quick glance behind him, he saw two zombies clawing and racing towards him. He looked ahead and leapt to the next roof, turning swiftly, bat ready for the zombies. One tripped on the ledge and fell down to the ground below with a loud thud and wet squelch. The second zombie was smart enough to jump, but without the roof to put its weight against, Finley easily hit it to the ground.
She looked over the edge, the second zombie landed on the first, managing to kill it but save itself. Finely continued running before it could get up again. She knew it was risky to be in the city. After the infection had spread out of government control, densely populated places had been nothing more than a death wish. The zombies here were no stronger or faster than ones in the country and towns, but they had the numbers to overpower even the most capable of survivors. They covered the ground and packed the buildings. Some had fallen from high windows and landed on rooftops, but she knew it was safer up here than down there.
Getting into the city was hard, getting out is impossible. It was assumed anyone who hadn’t turned, starved in their apartments. Anyone crazy enough to go there willingly, became part of the horde that roamed the streets. Finely wasn’t like others who had come though. Others had come to find friends or family, some to take back the city, but he had a different reason to be here.
Every town she had been to never had it. No store, house, even cars came up empty. She had gotten desperate enough to get here, so she would find it and get out alive. Finely, is determined to find ‘The Dictionary of Lost Words’.
Before the apocalypse, he had been four chapters away from finishing it, but the book had been torn to shreds by a zombie. Books were hard to come by, this one seemed impossible. He had spent the past two years searching everywhere for it, but the best he had found was one that had been used as fuel for a campfire. Too badly burnt for him to be able to read any words other than the cover.
She could handle the grief, the fear, the guilt, the loneliness, and pains that came with the apocalypse, but not knowing how the book ends was eating her alive; Worse than a zombie ever could. She couldn’t even search it up or ask anyone how it ended, her only hope was to find the book somewhere and finally be at peace.
He finally saw it, right across from him was a bookstore they might be able to get in. The store doors were padlocked shut and rusted, probably been locked since before the outbreak. All he had to do was climb in through the roof and get the book. The only issue was it was on the other side of the street. In between him and his precious book, was a swarm of living dead who, in just one bite, could turn him into one of them too. “No pressure,” he whispered.
She looked around, two buildings down was an apartment building, along the street were knocked over lamp posts and traffic lights. The herd of zombies are moving towards the one that had died just a moment ago, fussed by the noise. Finley took a breath, and ran over to the apartment. There were less of them on that street. The ones that haven’t reached the dead zombie were clawing to get to it.
Finley used a window sill to move down closer to the road. He was just out of reach of the zombies when he looked down. He needs to run faster than he has ever in his entire life. He pulled out his bat and inched down till his feet landed on the concrete. As soon as his toes had touched the ground, he bolted across the road.
Finley prioritised speed over sound, feet pounding on the ground, almost faster than her heart was. Traveling through the country allowed her to have a good amount of leg muscles. There were some groups who avoided others, or were avoided for good reason, but the majority were welcoming. Especially to travellers. Trading uncommon items for a safe place to stay, food to eat, or even medical attention was how most travellers survived. If they didn’t want items, they always could use someone to help around the camp.
A roar erupted from behind Finely along with a storm of steps rushing towards him. He couldn’t dare turn around. Scrambling up a tilted traffic light, she reached the top of the rooftop, quietly thanking her rock climbing training from high school and whatever gods were looking over her. Over the side of the building, zombies were failing to climb the narrow post, slipping and falling on top of the others who had avoided it. When they started piling up and climbing over each other to reach the roof, Finley knew she had to run.
High on adrenaline and more exhausted than he’d been since the beginning of the apocalypse, he jumped over rooftops till he made it to the top of the book store. The vents weren’t small, but it would still be a tight fit. He took off the covering and dropped his backpack down it, keeping the bat with him. Looking behind himself, he saw some zombies had made it to the roof. He got in the vent, trying to block it with the vent cover. Before he could slide down, a zombie grabbed hold of him and bit down on his wrist.
She screamed in pain, shoving her bat into its face and leaving it stuck in the shaft. Falling down to the store, her backpack broke her fall. She was bit... there was nothing she could do to stop the disease. People tried amputations, vaccines, anything they could think of. All that’s known is after you’re bit, you only have seven hours before you’re fully turned; five till you lose your mind.
Finley slowly rose to his feet. They stared around the bookstore, completely layered in dust. As if nothing has been in here for years. Little light came down from the vent, with the windows blocked, it caused the store to be sur-rounded in darkness. Finley took out his flashlight from his backpack and turned it on. This was his last pair of batteries, “I should get some more...” he muttered to himself. The realisation that there was no need for that anymore hit him immediately after, causing tears to pick his eyes.
She rubbed her face vigorously, crying loses water and will cause her to be dehydrated. She shuffled slowly around the store, a pricking feeling attacking her arm.
The store is small compared to the large grocery stores he normally raids. The whole store was rectangular, with a small office in the far right corner. The walls are lined with bookshelves, genre titles hanging down from the sections (although, it was too dusty to see what was written). There were 3 tables filling in the middle of the store of new releases.
Finley put her hand along the books lining the walls and walked down to the end. Along the loop around the store, she peaked in the store. On the chair was a pile of bones. The owner didn’t make it out of the city. She closed the door. After a few minutes of searching, her hand finally found the book she’d been searching for these past two years; “The Dictionary of Lost Words” she whispered, breathless. She couldn’t tell if that was because of the relief or the disease catching up to her.
Swiftly, Finley moved to his backpack. He rummaged through it, pulling out a headlight lamp. He’d been given it a while ago. A little girl at one of the camps had gifted it and wished him luck after Finley helped her parents. He hoped the girl is alright. Staying in the minimal light from the vents, he removed the batteries from the torch and put them in the headlight. Slapping it on his head, he shakily turned it on; it worked.
She looked back at the bag, all her materials were in there, although that wasn’t a lot. A change of clothes, underwear, socks, a switch-blade with some miscellaneous tools connected to it (a lucky find), a rope, camping stove, a badly damaged pot, a spork, and a sleeping bag but other than that just water and food. She wasn’t able to keep anything from before...this. Everything was either stolen or too heavy and broken for her to justify bringing it. “I wish I got a picture from home before leaving...”
He took everything out of his bag. The four cans of baked beans and one and a half bottles of water will be used for dinner. He tipped the beans in the pot and put them on the stove. Not the most nutritious meal, but good enough for his last. He could feel a fever coming on, so chugged the half bottle.
She decided to stuff her clothes and switch-blade back in the back before getting in and zipping it mostly up. It felt wrong to zip the sleeping bag up at all after so long of associating confinement with death. It’s fitting for now, though. She tied the rope around her legs as tightly as she could, leaving her arms free. For now.
He opened the book at the chapter he’d left off on and started reading, eating his dinner once it was done. After the book was done, he sighed in relief. he’s handled the grief, the fear, the guilt, the loneliness, and pains, and now it finally felt worth it.
She felt sweaty and so hot, so finished the rest of her water. It must have been almost two hours; she already felt incredibly weak. Finely weakly tied the rest of herself up with the rope and sleeping bag, and slept as peacefully as she could. Even while turning into a zombie, she’s never slept easier.