The Fall of Society (The Fall of Society Series, Book 1) (16 page)

           
“Alan,
can you help me make some armor?” Anthony asked.

           
“Sure,
kid.”

           
“Cool!”
Anthony said and went back to get some piping.

           
Alan
and Lauren were alone. She undid the wire that held the forearm plates of her
arm and removed the damaged one, then laced in the new one. It fit perfectly,
but it was white and needed to be painted black, like the rest.

           
“Do
you have any black paint?” she asked.

           
Alan
opened a nearby drawer and handed her a can of black spray-paint. “There’s
still some in there.”

           
Lauren
sprayed the white piece of pipe quickly then she gave him the can back. “Thanks.”
she said and turned to leave.

           
“That’s
all I get, just a thanks?” Alan said.

           
Lauren
turned back. “What do you want, more shotgun shells? I don’t have any.”

           
He
eyed her ample breasts. “Oh, I don’t know, you’re a pretty girl, I’m a good
looking guy—“ She held her laughter. “—And it’s the end of the
world n’ all, maybe we could have some fun together?”

           
“That’s
not even a nice try.” She turned to leave.

           
Alan
reached for her by the shoulder to stop her, he didn’t grab her, he just
touched
her—Lauren spun around and
put her .45 pistol under his chin.

           
Alan
took his hand off her and became very still.

           
“How
about I give you a bullet right out of the barrel? Huh?” she said with hard
eyes.

           
“Whoa!
Come on now, I was only kidding.” Alan pleaded.

           
Anthony
peered from around the corner and saw the situation; he smiled and went back to
picking pipe for his armor.

           
“When
things use to be ‘normal,’ girls had to take shit like this from creeps like
you, but not anymore.” she said and then
cocked
the pistol’s hammer with her thumb.

           
“Okay,
I’m sorry!”

           
Lauren
eased-up a little and took the pistol out from under his chin, but she kept it
pointed right in his face. She looked at him with eyes that were solid as rocks
and he looked into the blackness of her pistol barrel with eyes of fear. He
looked in her eyes and knew what he saw—she would shoot him; there was no
doubt of that.

           
Lauren
looked at him for another moment that seemed like an eternity to Alan and then
she tapped his forehead with her barrel. “Sure you are,” she said and walked
away.

           
Alan
released the breath his was holding from relief and then he heard Anthony
trying to hold his laughter in the back. “Laugh it up, straightjacket boy,” he
said to Anthony.

           
“Hey,
that’s not funny, they never made me wear one of those.”

           
“Yeah,
well, they should’ve.”

           
“Ha-ha,”
Anthony said sarcastically.

           
“Did
you find all the piping for your toy armor?”

           
“It’s
not ‘toy’ armor, Alan, it’s protection against bites from those dead suckers.”

           
Alan
thought about the concept for a moment…“Hey, kid, bring enough pipe for the
both of us.”

           
In
the hospital reception area, Ardent and Bear were with Derek, who was still
watching over their stuff—“So they have a boat here?” Derek said to them.

           
“Yeah,”
Bear answered.

           
“And
they’re gonna let us take it?” Derek asked.

           
“If
we can get it running, yes, but its engines are pretty banged up, so we’ll see,”
Ardent said.

           
“Are
you gonna offer them the place?” Derek asked.

           
“That’s
up to Lauren; she told Tom that they’d talk about it at dinner,” Ardent said.

           
“Really?
Okay then,” Derek said.

           
“We’re
gonna go work on the boat’s outboards,” Ardent told him.

           
Bear
said, “We’d ask you to help, but…” He sniffed loudly. “…you really stink.”

           
“Oh,
that’s hilarious,” Derek said.

           
Ardent
smiled and then they both left.

           
Milla
came in from the front of the hospital with Tom. “Thanks.”

           
“You’re
welcome,” he answered and walked off.

           
Milla
went to Derek with two bottles of hand sanitizer. “Hey, Tom was nice enough to
give us these so we can wash up,” she said and gave him a bottle.

           
“I
don’t think that’s gonna help, sweetie.”

           
“Oh,
come on, it’s better than nothing.”

           
He
turned his frown downside-up for her. “Okay, will you watch our stuff while I
go wash up?” he asked.

           
“Sure.
I think the bathrooms are over there.” She pointed.

           
Derek
grabbed his backpack and went down the hall, and as he passed Maggie—“Hey,”
she said.

           
“Yeah?”

           
“Here.”
Maggie held out a hand towel to him. “I thought you might need this.”

           
“Thanks,”
Derek said genuinely. “But I wouldn’t wanna give it back to you all soiled.”

           
“It’s
okay, keep it, I have a few,” said Maggie.

           
Derek
took the towel from her. “Thank you.”

           
“You’re
welcome,” she said. “You’re the first person to make my daughter laugh since
this all started.”

           
Before
he could respond, Maggie went back into her room, and Derek continued down the
hall to the bathroom.

           
The
men’s bathroom was a dark box inside; one emergency light was on, but one of
its light bulbs was busted. Derek didn’t complain as he stood before the
bone-dry sink and looked at himself in the dirty, scratched-up mirror. He
didn’t like what he saw, but who did in these times? Derek was grateful for one
thing, though, and that was the fact he was
alive
to not like what he saw in the mirror.

           
Better
than most people.

           
He
placed his weapon on a sink and untied his PVC armor; he took it all off and it
clattered to the floor, piece-by-piece. He removed his jacket, shirt, his
bulletproof vest, and finally, his T-shirt. He took off his boots and then his pants.
He looked at the state of his pants; since the local drycleaners were closed,
the pants were a lost cause. He chucked them into a bathroom stall, opened his backpack,
and pulled out another pair of pants. He stood there in his underwear and
grabbed the bottle of hand sanitizer. He flicked it open, squeezed some in his
hand, and started to clean himself with the hand towel. Derek was in very good
shape for looking like a pothead, as his waistline wasn’t the victim of the
munchies. He had more elaborate tattoos on his back and chest, along with a few
old scars.

           
He
wiped down his chest with the hand sanitizer, and the white towel quickly turned
brown. He stopped to look at the wound on his chest, the reflection in the dirty
mirror was bad, to say the least, and he leaned in closer for a better look.
The bruising was a precise black and blue indentation on his left pectoral
muscle, there didn’t appear to be any broken skin.

           
He
looked closer—

           
He
saw that his skin at the bottom of the circular bruise was broken and caked
with some blood. He prodded at it with his fingers to make sure that it didn’t
bleed anymore, and it appeared that it wasn’t. He was safe or was he?

           
Because
the bruise was a bite mark—

           
A
human bite mark.

           
Derek
realized what it meant…

           
He
didn’t see Milla sneak up behind him and wrap her arms around him; she
purposely clutched at his chest wound.

           
“Hey,
watch it! That still hurts!” he said.

           
“Aw,
poor baby, I’m sorry, but maybe next time I tell you to fuck me harder, you’ll
fuck me harder, so I won’t get mad and bite ya again,” she said playfully.

           
…It
meant that he was the luckiest guy in the world to still be getting laid after the
end of the world.

           
“Yes,
ma’am,” he said. “Who’s watching our stuff?”

           
“No
one.”

           
“No
one?”

           
“It’s
fine. If they steal from us, it’ll be a real short list of suspects.”

           
“True.”

           
Milla
hugged him from behind. “Baby, you’re hot, but right now, you stink.”

           
“So
I’ve been told.”

           
“Really,
who told you that you were hot? Lauren?”

           
He
smiled. “Bear.”

           
“Well,
he can’t have you.”

           
“He
can have you because you stink, too,” he said with a smile.

           
She
grabbed at his chest wound again.

           
“Ouch!
Really?”

           
She
stopped and caressed his chest. “Better?” she asked.

           
“Better.”

           
She
took the hand towel from him and wiped down his body with the hand sanitizer.

           
This
he liked. “Now this is the best hand wash I’ve ever had.”

           
“You
like that, huh?”

           
“Oh
yeah.”

           
Then
she removed his underwear and cleaned the rest of him.

           
“Did
I say the best? Now it’s the second best hand wash I’ve ever had,” he said with
a broad smile.

           
She
started to remove her armor and he helped her, and when she took off her top,
he couldn’t help but to stare at her tanned breasts. She threw the dirty hand
towel away, pulled out a clean one from her pocket, and dangled it before him.

           
“Your
turn,” she said.

           
He
was the luckiest guy in the end of world.

           
Indeed.

           
Lauren
was wandering the hospital, exploring the second floor. Even though Tom and
Anthony told her that the building was secure, she walked with her weapon at
the ready, regardless. There were no dead bodies on the floors here, and that
was something that she wasn’t use to; everywhere they went, the stench of the
decaying dead greeted them, but then she realized that she could still smell
all of the undead that were on the street below looking for them. The only thing
that littered the halls here was trash and turned over equipment, desks, and
chairs, the place was a mess. She took a glance out the plate-glass ceiling windows
and saw the dead in the street below.

           
She
pulled back out of sight before any of them saw her. She continued on her
exploration and as she listened to the dead moan outside, she had an
epiphany—that she was a sardine in a giant can that was going to be pried
open, sooner or later.

           
Ripped
open.

           
Sooner
or later
…

• • •

           
“Are
we gonna be allowed to eat in peace sooner or later?” asked Joe.

           
“As
soon as everyone’s here, Joe,” answered Tom.