The Last Five Days: Day Two: Evil Urges: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (4 page)

"
F
ive gallons
of gas gets quite heavy after a while."

Winston switched the can to his left hand. Baker Street was empty, not that it ever had gridlock, but gauging by the sun, it was getting close to five o'clock. Normally, a few people would be heading home from work. But there was no one. Not even a dead guy wanting to dine on Winston's flesh. There was something soothing about the peaceful street mixed with John Denver.

"Am I really starting to like John Denver?"

Winston refused to answer the question, opting to marvel at the iPod's battery life instead. It had become a trusty friend, sticking with him through a near death experience and the treasure hunt for gas. Winston didn't think it would be too hard, but without power, gas pumps didn't work. He tried a few cars, but someone beat him to it. Gas was going to be gold without power. It took a few cars and a mouthful of gas, but Winston finally filled up the can. And all along, the iPod was his wingman. Just as "Pink Moon" by Nick Drake came on, the iPod died. Winston couldn't help but laugh. He sat the gas can down to examine the iPod. A scream startled him. The iPod hit the asphalt. From the corner of his eye, Winston saw someone running for him.

"Help me."

Winston drew the Colt and aimed it at the voice.

"Don't shoot me." The woman fell to her knees and rolled onto the sidewalk.

"Melanie?"

Melanie got her feet and started toward Winston.

"Stay back." Winston aimed the gun at her head.

"It's me, Winston. He's trying to kill me."

"Are you sick?" Winston asked, taking a few steps back with the Colt still pointed at Melanie.

"I'm not sick. Dean's trying to kill me."

Winston lowered the pistol.

"He's not who I thought he was." Melanie paused to catch her breath. "He's evil."

"Dean's not evil. He's sick. The virus makes people dangerous."
Dangerous.
The word lodged in Winston's throat like a chunk of meat. Winston had killed people; infected or not, they were still people. He was dangerous.

"Dean's not infected. He killed Luther, Vera, and God knows who else."

Winston thought back to the marks on Vera's neck.
She wasn't dead when someone strangled her. Byrd said the dead don't do that.

Melanie grabbed Winston's arm. "We have to go. I hit him, but he'll come for me."

"Are you sure he isn't infected? How do you know he killed Vera?"

Melanie tried to pull Winston. "He told me. We have to…"

A gunshot interrupted Melanie. Winston screamed out, broke free from her grasp, and clutched his right arm. Another gunshot. This one barely missed Winston.

"Run," Winston said, falling to the ground. He rolled, aimed the Colt, and fired toward Melanie's porch. The bullet lodged into a wooden column next to Dean, who was wearing the clown mask again.

"It was cute of you to offer me a knife, but did you really think I wouldn't have a gun?"

Dean fired a shot at Melanie, purposely missing her. A warning shot to let her know at any moment he could take her down. She froze.

"Take shelter," Winston said.

His words thawed Melanie. She dove behind an old station wagon.

"You've got a gun. I've got a gun. Let's talk about this, Winston."

Dean was defiant. He didn't take cover. He opened his arms, welcoming Winston's next move.

Winston got to his knees and dragged himself behind a row of shrubbery. The asphalt grated flesh from his palms. His knees felt as though they were bleeding, but the pain from the bullet lodged in his arm numbed everything else.

Dean laughed. "I can still see you."

Winston tore the sleeve of his hoodie to inspect the damage. He wasn't lucky today. Yesterday at Luther's, Randy's bullet grazed his arm. This one stuck and stuck deep.

"You're boring me, Winston. Entertain me or I'll kill you...and then I'll kill Melanie."

Winston bit his lip to the point that it bled. He was trying anything to mask the pain from the gunshot.

"I'm going to give you to five, and then I'm emptying this gun into you," Dean said. "I'll use the knife on Melanie, since it was her suggestion. Come on; you want to play the knight in shining armor, don't you?"

"Looks like I'm going to have to. All the clown costumes were taken, Bozo."

Dean laughed. "Now that's what I'm talking about. Let's have some fun."

Dean stepped off the porch, tore off the clown mask, and started toward Winston.

"He's coming, Winston," Melanie shouted from behind the Pinto.

"Look out. I'm coming, Winston."

Dean pointed the gun at the shrubs and fired. The bullet missed Winston's head by a few inches. He would have to peek around the bush to return fire. That was sure death, but his options were slim and disappearing with every step Dean took.

"You know, Winston, I never liked you. You just have this look about you. Like you're smarter than everyone else. Killing people gets me off, but killing you will be damn near multi-orgasmic."

"If you're looking forward to it that much, why don't we put the guns down and get to know each other on a more personal level?" Winston said.

"Didn't I suggest that ten minutes ago before you went the coward route and hid?"

"It takes me a while to open up. I'm a bit shy."

"How many bullets ya got, Winston? And don't lie."

Jimbo. The porch column,
Winston thought. "Seven."

"No fair. I only have two. Tell ya what. Let's even out the playing field. Lose six bullets." Dean aimed the gun at the gas can Winston left behind and fired. "I've got one. We'll each have one shot at each other."

"I don't know, Bozo. How can I trust you? You're wishy washy. First you want to lose the guns and now you want to have an old west duel."

Melanie screamed, startling Dean. He fired a shot in her direction, shattering the windshield of the station wagon.

"You bitch."

Melanie stepped out from behind the car. Winston emerged from behind the shrubbery with the gun locked on Dean.

Dean dropped the gun. "You wouldn't shoot an unarmed man, would you?"

Without hesitation, Winston shot Dean in the chest. He stumbled and fell on his back. Winston fired another shot as he walked toward Dean. This one hit him in the side. His body jerked. Winston stood over Dean. Melanie stood next to Winston. Blood trickled from the corner of Dean's mouth. He fought to breathe, sending red speckles into the air like a geyser. He coughed.

"I didn't lie to you. I only had one bullet." The words were staggered between gasps.

Winston emptied the Colt into his hand. He counted five bullets.

"I didn't lie either."

Winston put one bullet in the gun and aimed it at Dean's head. Melanie grabbed his wrist.

"If I don't kill him, he'll just come back."

"I know." Melanie wrapped her hand around Winston's, prying his fingers from the gun. "Let me do it."

Winston let go of the Colt. "Are you sure?"

Melanie nodded. Winston stepped back.

"Don't think about moving or I'll bury a bullet in your forehead." Melanie closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

Winston took the gun from her trembling hand. "You OK?"

Melanie smiled. "As well as one can be after nearly being murdered by her boyfriend."

Winston looked at the can. Gas poured into the street. It was getting dark. There wasn't enough time to find another can. It didn't matter. The day was shot. With cooler temperatures, the food in the fridge might last another day.
I'll get gas tomorrow
, Winston thought. Tomorrow.
Salk; that'll have to wait till tomorrow too.
Winston was learning that setting these next day goals would be the only thing to get him through the night as things got worse. He looked at his arm.

"Is it bad?" Melanie asked.

"I'm not too versed in gunshots, but it sure hurts like hell." Winston kicked over the gas can. "Well, it's getting dark. You don't want to be out here much longer."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have to get home to Marianna."

"Thank God, she's not sick. I was worried since I hadn't heard from her all week."

Marianna was the first person to befriend Melanie when she moved to Black Dog. Both creative minds, they shared a love for the arts and yoga. Last week was the first time in over a year that Marianna had missed yoga. Melanie worried about her, but figured it was just a cold or something.

"She's infected."

"I thought the infected were dangerous?"

"I locked her in the guest bedroom. They're going to find a cure. Anyway, I gotta go. You should get inside."

"Can I come with you?"

Winston didn't answer.

"You're going to need someone to help you with that." Melanie pointed to Winston's arm. "I was an ambassador in the Girl Scouts."

Winston smiled. "I have no idea what that means."

"I just don't want to be alone."

"All right. You can come, but the house is a mess."

Melanie rolled her eyes. They started walking.

"Do you really think they are going to find a cure for this?"

"You know that doctor from the CDC? She gave me some valuable information to give to Dr. Salk. I was going to see him today but got a little sidetracked." Winston smiled again.

"You got sidetracked? My boyfriend turned out to be a serial killer who's been stalking me since New York."

"Yeah, well, I had to shoot Jimbo Brookside."

"What's this world coming to, Winston?"

Winston fought hard not to say “an end.”
Stay positive,
he thought. "I don't know, but we're still here." He wasn't sure that was a good thing. The chance of seeing a cure was slim. The chance of ever leaving Black Dog was non-existent.

"So, what are we going to do tomorrow?"

Get gas. Talk to Salk.
"Tomorrow, we keep living."

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