Overcoming The Zombie Apocalypse

 We stopped at a gas station, the sun searing our skin, every one of us soaked in sweat. When we got out of the van I pulled off my jacket and blazer, leaving my dress shirt.

 Angela took my wrist and led me to the corner. She crossed her arms, her head down.

 "I'm sorry."

 "You keep saying that."

 "Because it's true."

 "You've been my best friend my whole life and you threw it away. I need time. Just leave me alone for now, alright?"

 She bit her lip and bowed her head in surrender. She hugged herself tightly. I hated the pain I felt in seeing her so hurt.

 I left her to go to Jackson. He was filling the tank with gas while John sat in the back seat. I watched in silence while he filled another canister for the road. He turned to me then and motioned for me to follow him inside.

 Once in the gas station he walked around the counter and tossed some bags to me. We got to work scavenging.

 "If we find another group we can kick him to the curb," Jackson offered.

 "Do you think this will last long?"

 "I don't know. Probably."

 I had filled two bags with food and I set the bag aside. Angela ran in to grab them. She turned to Jackson and took the bags he'd filled and left. 

 "I hate being mad at her."

 Jackson walked to me, his hands in his back pockets and his eyes softly stroking my skin. He laid his hand flat on my back. I found myself resting my head on his chest.

 "Do you think we can sleep here tonight?"

 "Looks like we don't have a choice."

 I looked through the front door to see Angela and John rushing inside as a sea of infected poured over the mountains toward us. Jackson grabbed a broom to bar the door. I jumped atop one of the shelves, the unsteady metal wobbling beneath me, and reached up to push the tile aside. I jumped up and reached my hand out to Angela and pulled her into the attic with me. John was next. When Jackson joined us he jumped into the dark space, ignoring the shelves. Jackson had took one of the bags with him. I watched as he lit a candle before he closed off the attic. 

 I felt Angela's body press into mine. Her face burrowed into my hair when the sound of glass shattering shot through the room. I rubbed her back. As the undead tore the gas station apart, their growls and hungry screams sending chills down my spine, her fists clenched as they gripped my clothes. I held her tighter. My baby sister shook like a leaf.

 "I won't let them hurt you," I whispered in her ear.

 We stayed there for hours listening to the cacophony of rage rumbling below. Somehow Angela fell asleep. When all was silent I laid her on her back. I leaned down to kiss her forehead. Smoothing her hair I felt a tear run down my cheek and fall onto her to sink into her chin. 

 I turned to Jackson and made the symbol for a gun with my fingers before I held my hand out. He mouthed, 'are you sure,' and I nodded. He handed me his gun but John held my shoulder. My head whipped to the side for my eyes to burn past his to engrave my hatred into his soul. With my free hand I slapped his hand away. It took everything I had to not hit him hard enough to make a sound.

 "I should go," He whispered.

 I pointedly looked down at my sister, then to him, "I'm not putting her life in your hands."

 John didn't hide the offense written across his face. Jackson blew out the candle as I lifted the tile and looked around the store beneath. Moonlight washed over the room. A blue glow illuminated five bodies that stumbled about, relying on their sense of smell. I put the tile down again and Jackson lit the candle. I pulled off my shirt and pants. Using my shirt I dabbed away the sweat slickening my skin. I opened the bag and grabbed the knife. It was a serrated hunting knife with a curved leather handle. Jackson blew out the candle and moved the tile again.

 With my knife in my right hand and the gun in my left I jumped to the floor. sinking my blade into the temple of a zombie before I scurried into the next isle. From over the top of the shelves I could see another zombie shambling slowly toward the sound. When he reached the body I snuck up behind him. His stench lodged itself in the base of my throat, forcing me to taste bile. I jumped up to dig the knife into the apex of his spine, hearing a pop and a snap before another undead screamed. Taking out my gun I shot the zombie by the register, then the two running for me. 

 I lowered my gun, my chest heaving and my eyes locked on the front door, as six boots slapped against the floor beside me. I handed Jackson his gun. He gave me a rough pat on the back and I smiled. 

 "That's my girl."

 I concealed my blush by grabbing a soda from the freezer. I cracked the can open and guzzled down the icy, refreshing taste of bubbly cherries.

 We made our way into the van. We drove for an hour until we caught sight of a spray painted sign that pointed toward a safe haven.

 Jackson stopped at what was a small town where dozens of people were working quickly on building a fence. We stopped before four armed people. Jackson rolled down his window as a brunette approached.

 "Seeking refuge?"

 "Yes."

 "Just you?"

 "Yes."

 She pointed at a small home closest to us, "Go in there and you'll be given an examination, then you'll be assigned a home. Leave your belongings in the vehicle, weapons included."

 I could see Jackson's discomfort. Still he pulled into the driveway and stopped the car. We got out and left everything inside before we walked into the makeshift clinic.

 It took only a half hour for each of us to be assessed. Then we were given our belongings and allowed into a five bedroom house.

 The front porch led to the staircase and directly to a small bathroom. Around the corner were rows of bedrooms. To the right of the porch was a wide living room separated from the kitchen by an island.

 I slumped into the couch and hiked my feet up on the coffee table. I laughed when Jackson took off my boots.

 "I forgot you're a neat freak."

 "And you're a slob."

 It felt so good to finally laugh. I could tell Jackson felt the same from the free, wide grin that displayed his white teeth. 

 "You should put on a shirt," John suggested, earning another glower, "I'm just saying."

 I rolled my eyes and leaned back. Just as I started to relax I heard a knock on the door.

 Jackson let what I assumed to be the leader inside. He had a thick moustache and wispy salt and pepper hair. His grey eyes were weighed down with heavy bags.

 Jackson stood leaning against the archway to the living room. I could see the veiled threat in his gaze.

 "Hello, do you plan on staying?" He asked, and when we nodded he continued, "What are your skills?"

 "I'm a lawyer. I'm also skilled with combat and hunting. John is a good cook-" I motioned to John, then to Angela, "-Angela is good at keeping inventory, mathematics, and she's good at building things."

 "I'm also a craftsmen, a good cook, mixologist, and baker," Jackson weighed in, "I'm a good fighter, too."

 The leader scribbled our skills down in his book, "I'll get back to you tomorrow morning with your jobs. Until then you can relax."

 "Thank you," Jackson and I said in unison.

 "Of course. My name is Conner, you can call me mayor."

 He left and I slumped back into the couch, my head lulling back. I could hear Jackson rummaging through the cupboards. I turned my head to watch as he preheated the stove and began to gather the things he needed to make bread. He already had a pizza laid out on a tray.

 "Do you feel a bit odd?" Angela asked, her voice soft and tentative.

 "Don't think about it," I tried to soothe.

 "It's difficult."

 I did understand her hesitation to accept this place knowing that it was free due to it's owner having passed away. Still, we couldn't be picky. If we could I'd have said that the mayor made me uneasy, that I didn't want to stay here any longer than we had to. Instead I tempered my unease with the promise that I wouldn't leave Angela alone.