The Long Way To Reno (24 page)

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Authors: Michelle Mix

BOOK: The Long Way To Reno
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I
removed my jacket, scanning the cars' gas tanks around me. I found an old Ford
truck with a toolbox in the back that had an accessible gas tank. Sandy was
busy prompting some of the women to run, pushing children after them, so when
she turned to see if I were there, she ran back with a frantic screech. Rabid
crawled over the front of the Ford as I lit my jacket on fire. Flames licked
the air and quickly warmed the gas tank as I hurried away, pulling out a can of
hairspray. I stuffed it into the tank as best as I could, frantic to get some
distance.

 

A
snarling guy leapt towards Sandy as she was shooting at two newly converted
soldiers that reached for her. I went for one of the guns that had been dropped
by those shot dead, and just held the trigger down. Recoil caused the gun to
jerk back into my face, but the Rabid dropped to the pavement. Sandy stumbled
over it, regained her footing, then turned and bullrushed me away from the
Rabid that were starting to swarm over the vehicles we'd taken cover behind.

 

It
was happening so fast, this horde bigger than the one I'd dealt with earlier.

 

"Sandy!
The gas tank! Shoot it!" I hollered over the crazed noises.

 

Sandy
whirled as I continued running, and she came to a decision because the
pop!-pop!-pop! sound unleashed from her automatic sounded so tame compared to
the explosion that rocked the street. I stumbled and fell as heat spread over
us, and Sandy crashed down on top of me. But both of us turned to see what had
been accomplished, and fiery Rabid snarled, looking for new victims.

 

It
seemed hopeless – my plan didn't work. I had the crazy thought that these
things adapted, somehow, until I saw the Usher moving around the fire's reach.
It had been touched by the explosion, but it made sense that the Rabid were
still moving.

 

"Kill
it!
Kill it
!" I shouted at her. "It controls the
zombies!"

 

Gunfire
erupted over our heads as some of the guys returned, opening fire on the Usher
and the Rabid that came too close. But once the alien fell with a scratchy
gurgle, the Rabid stopped their attack. They stumbled about, losing motor
functions – the smell of their burning flesh was horrendous. But the
soldiers saw what I meant, staring quietly at the burning wreckage as Rabid
bodies fell.

 

Sandy
hauled me to my feet as the guys with guns surveyed the area for more threats.
I brushed myself off, catching my breath, and observed the burning area with
another cheesy grin. I looked at her, impressed by my own genius.

 

"See
that? I am amazing, aren't I? I figured it out all by myself, with no man to
help me," I said proudly, adjusting my vest and shirts underneath.

 

"
You
did that?" she asked skeptically, trying not to smile too broadly at me.
"
You
figured that out?"

 

"Harley
said I was stupid, but who's the stupid one that figured out how to kill aliens
and shit?
Me
." I gestured at myself with both thumbs. Then I licked
a finger and touched my ass, making a sizzling sound. It felt good to celebrate
success.

 

Sandy
laughed while the other soldiers snorted, giving me skeptical looks. Only one
of them laughed with her and came up to me, giving me a huge bear hug that took
me right off the pavement.

 

"Bad
ass alien killer does it again! How
does
she work such skills outside
the kitchen?" Benson asked, setting me aside with another laugh. I was
very high with glee in that he was still alive, and couldn't help watching his
ass as he turned away and signaled for the group to move with him – they
were moving around the spreading fire.

 

Sandy
ruffled my hair with some affection, then beckoned for the others to move with
us. As we walked, I wished Harley was there – I wanted him to see how
capable I was in taking care of myself. These things I was doing, I learned
from video games, not hiking in the sagebrush with my dad and his lover. I
wanted to prove a point in that I was totally capable of surviving.

 

Once
I realized what I was thinking, I made a face and began dragging my feet after
the group.

 

:
:

 

We trekked back to the CVS at the corner of
Prater and McCarren, to tend to the injured, and to take cover from another
possible encounter. I grew nervous at their intentions, thinking about
Lockwood, but the civilian guys with guns looked comfortable with the defectors
that were trying hard to protect the people they'd found.

 

"I'm surprised you made it on your
own," Sandy was saying to me as we took shelter in the shampoo aisle,
amidst the debris from the ceiling. The CVS looked as if it had been bombed
from the inside – ransacked and destroyed by desperate survivors.
"Miss Makeup, and her ridiculous clothing coordination. You look like a
page out of a fashion magazine."

 

"I'm flattered by your attention, but
I love dick," I said easily. She chuckled, and I liked her even more,
inwardly relieved she had a sense of humor despite all the things happening
around us.

 

“There were monsters out there, and that’s
not counting the things from space,” I grumbled, pulling my jacket tight around
me. Sandy exhaled heavily as she lowered herself across from me, slowly
extending her legs. She looked exhausted, her face dirty and grimy, making
me
wince. I don’t know if that was blood dried on her hairline, or mud – I
kinda didn’t want to ask, because I didn’t think it was any of my business. I
stared at my fingernails, admiring the brilliant red polish.

 

            Around
us, the families settled uncomfortably wherever they could. There were some
kids crying softly, shell-shocked faces taking in the abandoned CVS with dread.
It was growing cold with night falling – shelves were being ransacked for
useful things, and I figured I should do the same. Just in case.

           

            But
like many other places, this one had been stripped and destroyed; essentials
already looted, the mess on the floor testament to hasty scavenging. The
pharmacy had nothing more than bare shelves, blood splatters, and bullet holes.
The guys in uniform were doing what they could to secure the perimeters at the
windows, but I heard Benson radioing one of his guys as a few of them spread throughout
the area, looking for a larger, more secure place to move everybody. I looked
at Sandy as she struggled to relax – then I rose from the floor, and went
looking for useful items in the areas that I could.

 

            I
returned to Sandy with a small, one gallon trashcan full of plastic soda
bottles, some dish rags, lantern oil, lighters, and other beauty items. She
lifted her head to stare at me while I packed my beauty items away with a sense
of satisfaction, then examined the other items I’d picked out, struggling to
remember what I could do with them. I gathered the soda to me, and walked to
the end of the aisle to pour out the liquid, regretting not taking a drink. I
then returned with the empty bottles to cut up the dishrags, pouring oil on
them liberally before carefully pouring the rest of it within the bottles
themselves.

           

            I
don’t care what people say about video games – the ones I’d played had
been useful in helping me survive, in inspiring me to make weapons and make
situations useful to me, helping me to get to my parents.

 

            “That
science experiment is going to backfire on you,” Sandy said tiredly.

 

            “Precautions,”
I said firmly. “Just a precaution.”     

 

            “We
usually handle precautions with
these
,” Sandy said, looking down at the
automatic rifle she had slung across her lap.

 

            “I
don’t know if you noticed, but I’m too beautiful for a gun. Besides, the recoil
might knock me out,” I added, wincing at the thought. Sandy just smiled at me,
making me feel better. Despite her past crimes, Sandy was making her way into
my defenses, and she didn’t even have to hit on me to do it.

 

            I
capped the bottles, then stared at them with consternation – how was I
going to light the fabric when I’d stuffed it all in the way that I did?
Hastily, I found my matches, and stuffed a few of them at the top, figuring I’d
use a lighter to light them. I then felt stupid because maybe my brilliant plan
wasn’t going to work after all. The heat needed to light these things was only
going to be drowned by the oil inside – I looked around and hoped no one
saw that I’d just failed at this overly complicated task, stuffing the bottles
into my bag. Maybe I could use them for later, for something else.

 

            “Here,
I found these,” Benson said suddenly, popping up next to us, opening a popular diet
pill container he must’ve found in the pharmacy. He dumped a handful into
Sandy’s upraised palm, then capped it on his hasty walk away from us. I looked
at Sandy with an expression, watching her wash down a couple of them with a
bottle of water.

 

            “We
used these to stay awake,” she said groggily. “Over there.”

 

            It
was some secret military thing, I guess. I shrugged as I looked down at my bag,
bloated with supplies and my newly created molotovs. With how crazy things were
happening around me, I felt better knowing that I had a plan, and ‘options’.
Not even a minute later, Sandy was snoring softly, so I don’t think those pills
worked.

 

            There
were crying women in the aisle across from us. I couldn’t help but glance over,
watching as their kids crowded around their rescuers. Some of them clearly
didn’t belong to the woman they sat next to – all of them looked hungry,
dirty, and lost. Others had hasty band-aids placed on grimy wounds, their
clothing torn or stained. They looked like pictures you’d see from war zones
– I had to swallow hard, looking away quickly because a part of me
started to feel…funny.

 

            I
never really looked at kids, before. Sure, they were in my line of vision
wherever I went – but I never really
looked
at them. It had never
occurred to me that there would be a day when I’d find myself
seeing
them, and it was only in one of the worst ways possible. They were so small, so
little, so…important. Because if they were gone, how else was the human race
going to continue on?

 

            It
suddenly hit me that this shit was
real
. It was real because what was
left of us was left huddling in destroyed ruins of a city that once breathed
life into our self-absorbed lives, and suddenly we were all looking at each
other with shell-shocked faces.

 

            Was
this what Harley saw when he looked at Alex and Emmy? Why he put them before
himself? Why couldn’t I think that way?

 

            I
thought about my mom and dad, having to swallow hard once more. I looked over
at Sandy as she slept heavily, the sounds of muffled crying, the military guys’
voices in the background and felt so…
alone
. It made me realize just how
alone
I was.

 

            It
suddenly made me question myself as a valuable human being.

 

            My
eyes burned, and I didn’t want to ruin my makeup, so I hastily looked down at my
nails. I had to think about other things. I had to make myself prepare for
whatever else could happen. I needed time to escape quickly, but this line of
thinking made me feel guilty because there was only ‘I’ in escape. I glanced
back at the groups once more, and looked up because a Marine was speaking
hastily into his radio, signaling towards the other military dudes looking at
the back exit door.

 

            “Get
up,
get up
, we’ve got incoming,” he said harshly, Sandy jolting awake
and moving so fast to her feet that it was almost as if she hadn’t been
sleeping at all. The way the guys were moving made me panic – they were
scooping up kids, while civilians struggled to move. The other civilian guys
with guns were speaking hastily to each other, mapping out a safe route away
from the store and looking panicked as they cast startled expressions towards
the front of the store. The women and children were being pushed towards the
back as I jerked about, pulling my items to my chest as orders were given with
rising alarm.

 

            It
happened, literally, in seconds – one moment we were being told to get up
and move, and the next, there were shouts and gunfire coming in from the front.
Not the screams of monsters, but the hasty, desperate shouts of men that wanted
what the armed guys had – their weapons.

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