Ella

They had adventured into the forest even after repeated admonitions from the elders to stay within the confines of the village.

The three youngsters scampered in and out of the trees, never noticing the movement of the sun, nor the darkness creeping from the shadows.

Ella ducked under a particularly low limb, hunkering down between two gnarly roots protruding from the ground beneath the large oak. Giggling quietly to herself she peeped out of her hiding spot, trying to spot the others looking for her. Settling down, she snuggled her heavy shawl around her and pulled a piece of her mother's good bread from her pocket. Taking a big bite she closed her eyes and leaned against the sturdy tree trunk. Savoring the yeasty goodness, she wondered idly where the others were. Shouldn't they have started calling for her now? Those two couldn't lace their own shoes without her. Silly boys. Still, playing with them kept her from being too lonely.

Moving to the new village had been hard on Ella. She was the only girl. Quite an odd feeling actually. Boys tended to shy away from her. Like she had some sort of plague. Well, most boys. The red headed twins actually treated her like she was one of them. They were happy to include her in their adventures. Maybe because they were younger. Maybe just because the other boys all thought they were odd too.

Truth be told, they were a bit odd. They had a secret language that only the two of them understood. They tried to teach it to Ella but after several failed attempts they declared her a hopeless case and refused any more lessons.

Mirror images of each other, Tobias had three freckles on his left cheek, Nathaniel had three on his right. Tobias was left handed, Nathaniel right handed. Basically whatever Tobias did to the left, Nathaniel did to the right. The biggest difference between them was that Tobias never talked to anyone except Nathaniel while Nathaniel talked to everyone. All the time. Non stop. He actually had quite a vocabulary for a ten year old.

Settling in, Ella giggled thinking of those silly boys wandering around. She was well hidden. No way those boys could find her. Closing her eyes for just a moment, Ella munched her mother's good bread. Maybe she would just close her eyes for a minute. Surely she would hear the boys tromping through the leaves well before they found her. She would have plenty of time to slip past them and make it back to the meadow first.

With a start, Ella opened her eyes, surprised to find that dusk had fallen while she hid behind the tree. Black shadows reached out toward her from the underbrush. She stood up, brushing leaves from her skirt. Stepping back around the tree she looked for the twins. Silly boys were gone. They must have gotten tired of looking for her and gone home. Trudging in and out of the trees she headed for the meadow.

A cold sharp wind blew through the forest, whistling through the trees, rustling the leaves. Ella wasn't truly afraid of the dark but all of the tales she had heard whispered about the forest suddenly filled her mind. She started walking faster, sure that she would find the edge of the forest soon. It had to be right here. She hadn't gone very far into the forest.

All of a sudden the little bits of light straggling through the forest canopy faded. It became pitch black. Ella bit back a sharp cry as she fell over a root. Gazing around her she realized she couldn't see a thing. No light, nothing. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Finally understanding that she was alone in the forest at night she began to cry. Papa always told her that big strong girls of twelve don't cry. They pick themselves up and keep going. All she could imagine was all the night creatures that lived in the woods. The stories she had heard kept repeating in her brain, stories of wolves and bears. Of witches. Of huge scary monsters that eat little children and pick their teeth with the bones.

Standing up, Ella began to reach around her, feeling her way. A teeny step, then two. Another step. Another. Her hand brushed against rough bark. Another large tree blocked her way. Ella knew she was well and truly lost. She would have to spend the night in the forest. Her father would surely come looking for her when she didn't come in for dinner. Maybe the twins had already made it home and the village men were already lighting torches to start searching. It would be worth any punishment to see them coming through the trees.

Scooting between two large tree roots, she pulled her shawl around her, tucking her feet up under her skirt. Trying to stifle her tears, she wished with all her might she had never adventured into the woods.

She huddled against the rough bark of the tree, struggling to see into the blackness that surrounded her. The night had come alive all around her. She could hear rustling in the leaves, the chirp of crickets, the croak of frogs. Off in the distance she heard a snort, a snuffling of sorts. Her mind immediately conjured up pictures of a wild animal with great huge teeth, all the better to munch on her bones.

Squeezing herself into the tiniest ball she could manage she pulled her shawl over her head and shut her eyes tightly. Eventually she cried herself to sleep, exhaustion and fear finally wearing her out.

She never saw the glow of red eyes peering at her from the darkness. She never felt the hot breath on her skin as the creature peered at her face. She never moved when the creature slipped the shawl off her head.

The creature hunkered down in front of the human child, wondering at the delicate skin, the pink lips and dark hair falling in curls from underneath the shawl. Such an odd little thing. The creature lifted a black tipped claw to trace the drying track of tears down Ella's face. Licking the moisture the creature was startled at the salty taste. What manner of being leaked salt water from their eyes? Curiosity filled the creature. Perhaps he would keep this one.

A cry in the distance brought the creature to it's feet. Peering through the trees, it could make out the flicker of torches. More humans, adults this time.

With a slight snarl, he curled his lips back, revealing sharp dagger like teeth. Too many humans in his forest. Taking one more look at the child, he sliced a bit of hair from under the shawl and tucked it away. He would let this one go. For now.

A single bound and he was up into the tree. Hidden from sight he could track the humans as they thrashed around his forest.

The cries got louder and the light from the torches brighter.

Ella shifted, whimpering in her sleep. “Papa. Papa.” Her eyes flew open as she heard her name, “Ella. Ella. Where are you?”

Spring up off the cold ground, she shouted, “Here I am Papa, Here I am!”

Day Four/Runners continued

I peeked at GI Joe. He was lying quietly. He had stopped struggling against the bindings. His eyes were closed.

“Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“Don't you have anything to say about what I told you.”

“No.”

“Are you that cold? That inhuman?” outraged I started around the desk but caught myself just in time. I also forgot to lower my voice so he would for sure know I was a female now but I didn't really care. What kind of man showed no reaction to such horror story? I sat back fuming. He must be just like them. I should have left him for the runners.

“The big burly guy, the one with the cigar. Did anyone ever say his name? Or did he tell you folks who he was?”

“We weren't exactly exchanging histories at the time but I did hear one of the guys ask him if he wanted some action. He called him Lewis. Sargent Lewis.”

“Was there another big guy, blonde. Built like a mack truck. Big scar across his face?”

“Yes, he stayed closed to the Sargent. I heard a couple of names while they were raping Sarah and Evelyn. Blanks was one. Peterson was another. Why? Who are they? Do you know them?”

“Possibly.”

“And you want me to untie you? I don't think so.” I sat back. “How on earth do I know you aren't just like them?”

“Because they killed my buddy.” his voice was barely above a whisper. “When all of this went down I was out on patrol with my squad. My detail was escorting a group of doctors from the CDC in Atlanta to a FEMA camp outside Charlotte North Carolina when we were overwhelmed by runners. We fought but there were too many. I managed to get out with a buddy of mine, Reyes and one of the doctors. We barely made it out. Reyes had gone through boot with me. She was a strong marine. One of the finest. Reyes and the doctor were scouting a convenience store when a big truck of soldiers pulled up. She sent the doctor to hide while she met them out front. They started swapping stories, asking her questions. She let down her guard, thinking they were legit. The doc said she put her gun down to take a drink one of the guys offered her. That's when they grabbed her. Overpowered her. This Sargent Lewis took the first swing at her. Broke her nose. Then he gave her to Blanks. Told him to enjoy the fruits of war. Blanks raped her in front of the rest then told them to line up. She fought. But there were too many of them. After they were done the Sargent stood over her, lined up his sight and said hoorah bitch and shot her. The doc stayed hidden until I got back. I saw her there in the dirt. Torn and bloody. I vowed then that I wouldn't rest until those bastards were dead. The doctor told me what happened before we buried her.”

“What happened to the doctor?”

“I took him to the FEMA camp and then I left.”

“My squad was gone. My platoon was gone. I was alone. So I went hunting.”

Day Three

Bright sunlight filters through the transom windows high on the wall. The close call in the grocery store made for a twitchy night. It may have been my imagination but I swear there were more bumps, cries and howls in the night than usual. Although who is to say what is usual anymore. Crinkling my nose at the crappy taste in my mouth I reach for a bottle of water. Guzzling it down I imagine a steaming hot cup of coffee. And scrambled eggs with bacon. And pancakes with melted butter and tons of real maple syrup. Followed by a long hot shower. With real soap and shampoo. I never realized how important hot water on tap was until I did not have it anymore. Sighing I reach for my trusty can opener and peruse the available offerings. Peas. Carrots. Spinach. And on my, a treasure. A single small can of canned peached in heavy syrup. I decide to splurge and have the peaches. I dig further down and find some potted meat. Add the last of the stale crackers and I have the breakfast of champions. Chowing down I wander through the stacks randomly reading the names of the books. Grabbing a likely looking selection I stuff it in a pocket for later. Stephen King is always good for a laugh. Especially now that the world has ended. I wonder if old Stevie survived. Hated to think of a world with him gone. Should we survive the New World will need wordsmiths to chronicle the fledgling civilizations. Tossing the morning garbage in the can I realize I have put off going out for as long as I can. With no electricity and no running water I made my toilet area behind the building. Not as private but better than living in a building with overflowing toilets. Grabbing my toiletry bag and weapons I head toward the rear doors. When I first came to the library I locked it down tight. All the doors barred and rigged with alarms. Then I realized I needed easier access in and out so I used the storm shutters on a side window to create my own little bolt hole complete with padlock and chain. I pull the chain through and padlock it from the outside when I leave. Then after my morning ablutions I slide back through and lock it from the inside. Easy peas-y. Perching on the window ledge I scan the outdoors. Everything looks quiet. I listen and watch. Seems like I am the only human out and about this early. Locking everything tight I head toward my makeshift outhouse. Taking care to use only a little of the water I take time to brush my teeth and run a soapy rag across my face. It is not safe enough for a full bath but I can at least feel somewhat human with a clean face and mouth. I shovel a bit of lime into the hole to aid in breakdown. Heading home I map out my day. I really need to find out why there is so much food left in that store. A few runners should not have kept the looters at bay. Not for this long. Since I avoid the area where the duck dynasty militia is hiding out I can not be sure they haven't set a trap for unwary survivors. I know that a group of men in camouflage carrying large weapons may not be the safest place for a single woman. Perhaps that is sexist of me but I don't want to prove my theory at the expense of my health, sanity or anything else. No means no. But men with guns may not recognize that fact. Slipping back into the library I relock bolt hole and head for the front. I stow my gear under the circulation desk. No sense advertising the fact that I am here. Laying out the town map I retrace my steps from yesterday. Time to go shopping. Weapon, water, an empty backpack and I'm out the door. Slipping from building to building I try to stay within the shadows as much as possible. The heat is already reaching the unbearable point. The sun is broiling the pavement. Nearing the grocery store I slip into a dry cleaner on the corner. This should provide some cover as I watch the store front. Crouching below the window I double check my weapons. Pulling out the novel I had chosen earlier I settle down to read while I wait. If no men in camo gear show up, in a couple of hours I may risk another foray into the store. Until then Stephen King and I will spend the afternoon in Derry Maine. A couple of chapters into the book I realize I am hearing the snick of feet on pavement. Nothing too loud but it is enough to alert me that someone is outside. I slip the book back into my pocket while I ease my knife out of the sheath. A gun may do more damage but it also lets everyone know exactly where you are and what you are doing. The snick snick snick gets louder. Sounds like there is more than one. Moving slow I risk a glance out the window. The awning over the front makes a dark shadow so it's unlikely anyone can see me. Peering up and down the street I catch a glimpse of movement. An arm, a leg. The side of a face. One of the camo boys is sneaking his way down the street. He is good. He slips in and out of the shadows low and slow. Stopping in front of the bank he motions behind him. Two more pop out of the alley. Guns at the ready they slip past the first guy and into the alley beside the grocery store. The first guy motions again and two more slip out, pass him and disappear into the alley. That makes five armed men. Not good odds for me. I am arguing with myself. Do I run and hide or do I stay and find out what is going on in that store? Risking another look I catch the first guy looking my way. Ducking back down I start to panic. Crawling as fast as I can I head behind the counter. Praying I can find the back door before he comes looking for me. Pushing my way through the employee only door I stand up and get my bearings. Strange mechanical contraptions with cloths hanging, big carts filled with linens. Racks of clothes wrapped in plastic. Not seeing a back door. There has to be a loading bay or something. Scouting around the walls I can hear my own heart beating in my ears. If camo guy saw me, he will for sure be coming up behind me any minute now. Hiding may be the better option. If he can't find me then he will move on and I can slip out the back. Climbing into one of the large laundry carts I pull a load of linens over myself. I use my knife to cut a tiny slit in the canvas so I can watch the door. Just as I start to calm down I see the muzzle of a gun slip past the door frame. Camo guy follows. Square jaw. Hat pulled low. Looks military. Kind of like GI Joe. Broad shoulders. Big gun. I do not want this guy to find me. I hold my breath and start praying. He steps further and further into the room. Scanning up, down, side to side. He starts toward the back of the building and I hear grunting. A runner is in the building. Now I am truly terrified. I can't hope to fight a runner and GI Joe. Just as I decide to make a run for it I hear the high pitched scream of a runner. It is on the move and it won't stop until it kills or is killed. I popped up out of the cart just as GI Joe let out a scream. I felt a hot bumblebee whiz by my head and realized Joe had a silencer. I scrambled out of the cart as another bumblebee whizzes by. This guy is either the worst shot ever or he's too busy being eaten to aim properly. I hunker down and start another argument with myself. If GI Joe can't save himself then that is too bad. I have to get out of here. Survival is key. Unfortunately there is obviously a bleeding heart tree hugger in me that won't let me walk out on another human being while they are being eaten by a mutant virus ridden prior human thing. Shaking my head at my own stupidity I head toward the sounds of the scuffle. Looks like GI Joe may have a chance after all. He has the runner pinned to the wall with a cart but his gun is gone and there is blood pouring down his neck. The runner is grunting and shoving the cart away. The blood must be making him even crazier. I sprint past GI Joe, push the cart sideways and shove my knife into the runners eye. The runner drops like a rock. Knife to the brain does the job every time. Wiping eye goo and blood off my face and then my blade I turn to GI Joe. He is gaping at me like he has seen a ghost. He mumbles something as he pitches over into the cart. Checking him I realize he passed out. GI friggin' Joe and he passes out from a little blood loss. I tumble him all the way into the cart. I have to take him back to the library. If he doesn't bleed out before I get there then I may be able to find out what is going on. And with him unconscious I can truss him up like a thanksgiving turkey so he won't give me any trouble. I shove the cart along the back wall finally finding the loading bay door. Shoving the cart through the door I head down the back streets to my lair. Berating myself the whole way for bringing a strange man, albeit an injured, unconscious man, into my safe place.

Day Two

So here I sit, blank page before me. Bright sunlight streaming in the window, cup of coffee in hand and no idea where to go from here...we left our survivor escaping the grocery store. Shall we see where she goes?

Slinking down the alley I stay alert for any movement. No way could any runners have missed the sounds of a gunshot.  Something just isn't right. Getting back to my hole in the wall is priority one. I take advantage of the silence and scurry back toward my temporary home. 
The good thing about this apocalypse is that there seem to be few runners. In the movies I always wondered at the never ending hordes of zombies. Luckily there seem to be less runners. Lots of dead folks though. I did mention the smells didn't I?
When all this came down I lived in a small apartment. Alone. Not even a plant to keep me company. I knew my neighbors by sight but I had no real friends in the building. My friends were all back home. Living the same lives their parents and grandparents had lived before them. I had decided at a young age I would escape that grind. So at the first opportunity I left. I found a job, a place to live and made a few acquaintances and even fewer friends. Solitary by nature I wasn't about to let just anyone get too close. Crowds make me itchy. Any more than three people is a crowd to me. Anyway, when the crap hit the fan I was alone and alone I have remained. As soon as I realized what was happening I left the apartment. Too closed in for me. I wanted space around me so I could see what was coming. I packed as much survival gear as I could into my car and started driving. Didn't really get that far what with all of the closed roads and traffic jams. When I couldn't drive any further, I started hiking. Out of simple reflex I headed toward home. Some misguided sentimentality or nostalgia for family perhaps. I ran into my first runner about 50 miles out in the middle of nowhere. The only thing that saved me was my own clumsiness. I heard footsteps behind me and I started to run. And promptly tripped and fell flat on my face. The runner fell over me. I managed to shoot it before it could get back up. That was my first kill. It wasn't like in the movies. There is nothing glamorous or exciting about killing a living thing. I shot it. It died. I puked. And then I walked on. Feels like I have walked a million miles since then. I've been afraid to stay too long in one place. I start to feel itchy and I move on. I have seen other survivors but I stay out of sight. A woman alone doesn't just have to worry about the runners. There are other things that go bump in the night. I have seen other survivors from a distance. There is a group just over on the next street. Militia types. Lots of camo and big guns. All men. If there are women I haven't seen any. A very good reason to stay hidden. I am hoping they move on soon. Then I can just travel on my way. 

I slip back into my bolt hole, peering behind me to make sure I wasn't followed. When I first got to this town I scouted around to find a good place to hole up. Since I like to read the local library seemed a good place. A small brick building off the main street. Not too many doors. Windows already boarded over. There are transom windows left unbarred so plenty of sunlight. Seemed like someone had the good sense to lock it down. I broke in and barricaded the doors from the inside. When I leave I bar them from the outside. So far no one or no thing as bothered me. 
Setting my booty down on the circulation desk I scout the rooms. Nothing disturbed. Sighing I settle down with my can opener and a fresh bottle of water. Yum, cold peas. Oh well, it could be worse. My last scavenge I came back with asparagus. I despise asparagus. That was not a good week. 
Finishing my cold dinner I toss my debris in the big garbage can I had pulled in off the street. No sense in keeping a nasty house even during the apocalypse. 
Dusk is falling. Another night to endure. The runners are out during the day but there are other things out at night. Things that shriek and howl. Things that hunt. Predators seeking prey. The runners I can somewhat understand, a virus or chemical or whatever it was caused humans to go crazy and crave human flesh. What I don't understand are the animals. Domesticated animals have whatever it is too. And they hunt only at night. In packs. There is nothing natural about a pack of dogs and cats running together. Hunting together. 
The howls are starting. I set up my perimeter alarms (cans tied onto string) and settle in for the night, one hand on my gun. What I wouldn't give for a good nights sleep. All over town I hear shrieks and squeals, barking and howling. Closing my eyes I will myself to sleep. 

And there I think I'll stop. For now. 

Day One

I promised my husband I would write 500 words per day. I am sitting in front of the computer wondering what to write. I have so many vignettes in my brain...snippets of stories...undeveloped characters just waiting for me to expand and explore. Worlds swirling, twisting and turning. Odd characters, mythical, mystical animals and beings. Never before seen flora and fauna. Trying to make sense of it all. 

I am not one of those writers who say they started writing stories before they could walk or who worked diligently on their high school newspaper or studied creative writing in college. I am simply a woman who loves the written word. I started reading very early, I remember watching sesame street and being amazed when I knew how to turn those funny things into a word. The alphabet intrigued me. Before computers, before typewriters I would doodle words for hours. Didn't matter to me what the words were...I just like the way they looked on paper. Learning a new word was another door to another world. I read and still read voraciously. I have no patience for dry technical books or manuals. My world is rich with fantasy, words strung together creating characters, worlds, lives that I'll never live and yet I do. I soar with dragons, hunt with vampires, change with werewolves, love and live again and again. 

Words are an authors' paint. Books are portraits into the mind and imagination. There are no limits. There are no rules. I could write a 4000 page book using one word. One letter. No one else has to understand or care what I write. I have written short paragraphs and poems. I have tried longer stories, novels but I get distracted. I distance myself. I stare at a blank page and wonder why I can't finish the story in my head. 

My goal of writing 500 words per day is daunting. Do I pick a single story and go with it or do I free fall and write whatever comes to mind? I worry too much. I skip from page to page. I have writers ADD. 

I have tried to be disciplined with it and create and outline. But this is not a term paper. It is a world, a lifetime I am creating. It has to evolve and grow. It has to be nurtured and understood. There are characters I don't like anymore. I started out liking them but they just seem stupid or bland or silly to me now. Not quite sure how to handle that. I have to respect their personalities. Else why put them into the plot? Good question. I will have to ponder that one. 

I believe today I will write about world after the apocalypse. I do not want to do the same old zombie apocalypse so I am wondering why the world ended. Or do I even care? I care more about how the survivors are, well, surviving. My first question is always HOW would I survive. Where would I go? What kind of survivor would I be? Am I strong enough? What does it take to survive?  Let's visit one of my vignettes and see what evolves.


Don't all stories fairy tales begin with "it was a dark and stormy night"?  Unfortunately this was no fairy tale and it was actually noon.  You may ask if it's the end of the world how do you know what time it is? You look at the sun. Directly overhead. Noon. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Other than that I know when it's morning, afternoon, dusk and night. Pretty good for a college drop out after the apocalypse. It is also hot. So hot the sweat dries immediately on my skin. I can see heat shimmers off the street. Of course it helps that I found a nice pair of ray bans on my last scavenge. Crouching behind an overflowing dumpster on a very hot day at noon is not ideal however it does keep them from scenting me. My personal hygiene notwithstanding the overpowering stench of rot and decay masks my purely human scent. I knew coming out during the day was a stretch but I had no choice. I am dangerously low on food. I wiped out the last of the canned food from the Piggly Wiggly last week so I am currently scouting the local Food King. It looks relatively untouched. No broken windows. Door intact. Well, except for the one big bloated dead guy with his head caught between the doors. You would think that I would be used to dead people but it just never gets easier. This is certainly not how the end of the world was portrayed on television and in movies. They just didn't cover certain aspects such and the unending stomach churning smells. I keep thinking that I will get used to it but each day there seems to be a new scent. A new depth to the decay. I wrap the scarf a little tighter around my face, adjust my new ray ban sunglasses and tug the ball cap a little tighter on my head. Fingerless gloves, leather jacket, grime crusted jeans tucked into genuine combat boots courtesy of the army navy store down the street and you have the stereotypical apocalyptic survivor. Complete with a battery of assorted weapons I have unfortunately gotten a crash course in using. I have actually become quite proficient with both hand guns and my rifle. Not so much the knives. I prefer distance work. Up close and personal is just too dangerous. Knives are a last resort. In a pinch I have been know to use a hammer. Oh and once I used a cast iron skillet. No matter what the weapon the end result is the same. Someone dies. Hopefully it is not me. In all of the movies I watched and books I read the worst times were at night. The bogymen all came out to play after dark. And they were always portrayed as slow. Mindless and slow. Well that is not the case with the current apocalypse. The bogeyman are crazy fast and smart. They can adapt. And learn. They very quickly how to stalk and how to hide. They can avoid most traps and pain doesn't seem to phase them. Before the world went silent I heard them called "runners". There was a lot of finger pointing and shouting by all the government mucky mucks but the truth was no one really knew what happened. Or how it happened. At first there were scattered reports of odd deaths. Folks found murdered and half eaten. Some blamed it on animals while others blamed crazy cults. Satanic, voodoo. Some folks said it was chemical warfare.  It didn't matter. The reports just got more frequent. And closer to home. Pretty soon it was clear there was something uncontrollable out there. People panicked. Rioting happened. Pretty much standard apocalyptic fare. Someone somewhere ordered the big guns to take control and the fighting started. As far as world war 3 goes it ended rather quickly. I guess we will never know why no one ever shot off the big ones but I guess for those of us surviving it is a good thing. No nuclear winter to deal with on top of everything else. Find your silver lining I suppose. All I know is that the runners are out there and I am not fast enough to get away. So I learned to sneak. To blend in and to stay under their radar. I don't kid myself that I am stronger or that I could successfully fight a group of them. I can handle a loner. Or even two if I have the shot. Basically I just scavenge and move. If I don't stay in one spot they can't find me. At least that is what I hope. It has worked so far. Being alone is kind of a bummer though. I never thought the end of the world would be so quiet. 
Nothing has moved. No sounds. Time to try for the grocery store. Yes it is the obvious place for an ambush. Yes it is the obvious place to have been picked clean months ago when this all started. I at least have to try. I need food. It is just that simple. 
Easing my way past the overflowing dumpster I keep a sharp eye out for any movement. Taking a deep breath I sprint across the road, ducking behind a big SUV half on half off the sidewalk. My heart beats in my ears but I don't hear anything else. I scan the street. No movement other than heat shimmers. Surveying the corpse in the doorway I  push one of the doors enough to slip past. Heat blasts me as I pause. The stench of spoiled food slams a fist into my gut. Blinking and swallowing back the gag reflex I grab a basket. The shelves look pretty full all things considered. I head for the canned food. Stuff I know will still be fine to eat. I pause at the feminine hygiene aisle. Some things go on even during the apocalypse. Shoving some supplies in the basket I move on to canned goods. Ahhh yes. The shelves are still decently stocked. I grab and stuff as many cans as I can carry into the basket, my pockets. I head for the bottled water. Looks like my luck is holding. There are still cases of water. Realizing I won't be able to carry much more I put some bottles in my knapsack. A snick of sound captures my attention. Setting my bounty on the floor I slowly look around. I press my back against the shelves. The snick snick seems to be coming from the next aisle. Taking a deep breath I ease down the aisle, drawing my pistol. If it is a runner I won't have but one shot. I have to be ready. I sneak quietly to the end of the aisle and peek around the end. No one in view so I slither to my left and lean forward to glance at the next aisle. I clamp down on the scream fighting its way out of my throat. A runner was using kitchen shears to cut the fingers off of a fresh kill. Blood pooled the floor around it. Gore spattered the shelves and the runner itself. And it just sat there, gnawing on fingers. Easing back I readied my pistol. One shot and one shot only. No time to think or I would be lying in a pool of blood with my own fingers being hacked off. Counting off in my head I rounded the corner aimed and pulled the trigger on three. The runner gaped at me as it fell backward. Bulls eye. Right between the eyes. I knew the sound of the gunshot would bring other runners. I had to grab my supplies and get out before I was surrounded. The sound of breaking glass let me know my way in was not going to be my way out. Looking around I decided to take my chances in the back room. Not fond of the dark but it was a bit better than being eaten alive. Pushing through the double doors I eased them shut behind me. Sprinting through the stock room I narrowly avoid decapitating myself on the raised tines of a fork lift. The warehouse loading bay doors were closed but there was a fire exit door right beside them. I shove the door open, praying the alley was clear. Stepping back into the sunlight I had to pause to get my bearings. Slapping my ray bans back onto my face I took off running down the alley. The runners in the store wouldn't be far behind. 

Well, our heroine does seem to have herself in a bit of a pickle now doesn't she? Where oh where to go now? Does she get to safety? Do the runners catch her? What ARE the runners? How has she survived? Who was she before? How old is she? Are there other survivors? Taking a break but I'll be back soon to answer those questions and more....stay tuned.