With not much daylight left, Eric decided to spend the rest of the day in the boarded house, but first he took the dead man and dumped him out a few good meters away from the house, before going inside and locking the front entrance. Sadly, for him, during the night, the gas turned off, so did the water and the electricity. Truth be told, despite what some said that this was just a local incident, Eric somehow knew that was far from the truth, and if he were to be honest, the fact that the gas, water and electricity lasted for so long with all the shit going on, it was something akin to a miracle. And that would only make thing harder than it already were. Yes, it wasn't unexpected, but still inconvenient, especially since now that meant water would slowly become a luxury. Well, it was only a matter of time before something like this were to happen.
Yet, while he wasn't bothered by anyone, alive or undead, Eric barely managed to sleep for an hour or so.
The dim morning light filtered through the gaps between the boards, casting thin strips of illumination across Eric's hands as he methodically cleaned his pistol. With how little sleep he got, and with the stress he was going thought, Eric went into auto pilot mode and did the only thing he could do to "relax" himself a little.
He'd spent half the night lying awake, plotting increasingly impossible rescue scenarios, which did nothing but make him even more frustrated with his own stupidity. His "baby" could be anywhere by now – halfway to Tennessee, stashed in some garage in the next county over, or already stripped for parts by those opportunistic bastards.
"I'm such a fool," he muttered, clicking the slide back into place with more force than necessary.
Reality was setting in, heavy and bitter as old coffee. The chances of finding one specific motorcycle in all this madness were about as good as finding a needle in a field of haystacks. Even if by some miracle he did track down those people, what then? Take on five armed survivors by himself? That's a good joke, after all what chances could someone like him who hand' been in a gunfight before face against five armed bandits?
Letting out a sigh, he set the cleaned gun down on the kitchen counter and leaned back in his chair, running both hands over his face. The loss of the bike wasn't just about transportation – though God knew that was bad enough. That bike had been freedom, and at the same time the only thing he had left from his father. Not to mention that, it had been his ticket to Atlanta, to Sarah, to whatever slim hope remained in this increasingly insane world.
Now he was on foot, in a town crawling with the infected, with nothing but a pistol, a bat and whatever supplies he could carry on his back. Just thinking about it made him want to punch something, but he couldn't afford to get angry at "ghosts". Not now. Not when every sound he made could draw attention.
"One problem at a time," he whispered to himself, picking up the gun again and checking it one final time. "First get out of this damn house. Then worry about finding some kind of transport. Then..."
Still, as he began gathering what supplies he could find in the house into a manageable pack, a tiny part of him couldn't help hoping for that miracle. Maybe the thieves would break down nearby. Maybe they'd hole up in some local hideout he could find. Maybe...
Once he packed everything he could in his backpack, Eric decided to head out and take the same road the thieves drove away. That would mean leaving his hometown for good most likely and with it, his house… while it was bound to happen sooner or later, Eric felt like he was in a away abandoning everything he knew.
Leaving those thought in the back of his mind, Eric checked the street before he opened the door, after all, he didn't want to have to engage a shambler as soon as he opened the door. Taking a peek through the peephole, he didn't saw anyone near the house, which was so good, considering how bad his day had been. Nevertheless, Eric watched the front yard for about three or four more minutes before he was sure it was more or less clear to head out.
With no vehicle to quickly get out of this place, Eric was forced to sneak through the neighborhood, again seeing the overly familiar signs of people hastily leaving their homes and thankfully, no cars blocked the way, which was good, so I was able to make his way to the main road in an hour or so. Surprisingly enough there were far less shamblers on the street, and while some did notice him, as soon as Eric started picking up the pace, those things quickly lost interest in him and instead choose to head further into the town.
After more than two hours of walking on a relatively empty main road, Eric reached a part of the road that had a couple of cars parked on the side of the road, with a torch up car "resting" just outside of a small dinner place. Oddly enough there weren't any shamblers around, but seeing all of the windows of the dinner place being broken, Eric choosed the smart idea of just keep moving onwards rather than checking the place.
Walking down the main road was anything but peaceful, but at least the lack of humans was nice. However, by the time it was 15:00, Eric reached a part of the main highway that had more "traffic" with quite a few abandoned cars. Some had blood on the windows from the inside, and more than one had a corpse in it. There were even some cars that had infected inside of them trying and failing to get out, and while this might had been a good place to loot for supplies, Eric didn't exactly felt prepared enough to try his luck, especially when for as far as he knew the second he opened the door or smashed the window of a car, the infected inside could be very well launch themselves at him before he could even defend himself. And because of that he decided to instead take the small detour and go towards the gas station and whatever shops were besides it. Most likely he would have to deal with one or two shamblers, but at least it would be in the open where he would have room to maneuver around those things.
Strangely enough, when Eric was around fifty meters away from the station, he noticed some cars touching each other at the entrance of the nearby building. Now, he might have not been a detective, but even a teenager like him could see that this wasn't just some coincidence at all. Someone was inside, and the last interaction with a human being, made Eric cautious of approaching strangers.
Grabbing his pistol with his right hand, Eric walked forward towards the left car. Much to his surprise, that car had its front door that faced the building opened, but weirdly enough whoever left the car didn't bother to shut the motor as on the board there was an icon saying that the passenger door was opened making that annoying beeping noise. Either the driver got out and went to check the building, or the more likely case was that he had been chased by the grey car that stop right behind the car with the opened door. Why would Eric think the first car had been chased? Well, the main reason were the three boxes of canned goods and the one pack of water bottles resting on the backseat.
'I should check the inside before I leave with the car.' Thinking about that, Eric climbed over the black Nissan and jumped on the other side landing way too close to a dead shambler that had been drove over, poor guy, didn't stood a chance.
But just as he was about to go towards the door of the building, Eric froze, as an angry man was shouting from inside. Gripping the pistol, Eric sneak towards the window and peek inside, only to see three men, with the middle one having a hunting rifle holding two blonde women at gunpoint.
"I swear to God, if either of you moves again, I'll put you both down right here! Now tell me where the rest of your group is!"
"Please, we told you – it's just us! My sister and I were trying to get to Atlanta, but stopped to refuel..." Older woman begged them, but sadly for her and her sister, the bald man in the middle didn't believe her.
"Bullshit! Nobody travels light these days. I'll ask you fucking last time! Where's your group bitch?"
The younger sister started crying when the man took another step forward practically waving the rifle's barrel in front of their faces.
Seeing that time was running short, Eric knew that he should do something while he still held the advantage. Yet even when he knew that, his hands trembled slightly as he raised the pistol. His mother's words echoed in his mind – "Being a good person isn't about when it's easy, it's about doing the right thing even when it costs you something." Shane had said something similar during those times when he took him out to the range, though with more colorful language.
"Goddammit," he whispered, steadying his aim. The bald man was maybe fifteen feet away, practically filling the broken window frame. It should have been an easy shot. But Eric had never fired at another living human being before, had never even pointed his gun at someone with genuine intent to kill. His target practice had always been on bottles, cans, and recently, the infected.
The man jabbed his rifle forward again, making the younger sister whimper. "I'm done playing games! You've got three seconds to—"
But that was enough, Eric squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. The bald man stumbled forward, dropping his rifle as he clutched at his shoulder. His two companions spun around, hands reaching for weapons, but the older sister was faster. She grabbed the fallen rifle before swinging it at the man on the right's head sending the bastard down with a thud. But she didn't stop there. The older sister turned as quick as she could and fired at the third man hitting him in the stomach.
Meanwhile, Eric's ears were ringing as he vaulted through the window, keeping his pistol trained on the man that just got hit by the rifle, and while he did manage to pull out a revolver, it was pointless. "Drop it!" Eric shouted at him as he aimed his pistol at the man's chest. "Don't make me repeat myself!"
The man hesitated, looking between Eric and the older sister who now had the rifle pointed at his "leader" who was trying to stop the bleeding.
"I said drop it!"
In the end the second man cursed his luck and throw the revolver towards Eric's feet before raising his hands in the air. Seeing that, Eric took a deep breath that he didn't knew he needed so badly before crouching down enough to grab the revolver before turning towards the two sisters.
By now, the older one grabbed her sister and stood two meters away from Eric, still keeping her newly acquired weapon at the bald man.
"Let's get out of here." Eric finally said signaling the sisters to leave first while he retreated slowly keeping his pistol aimed at the second man, after all he was the likely one to retaliate, thought judging by who he was shacking, that wasn't going to be case.
< Just change "3" with "e" Patr3on Link : https://patr3on.com/meatbunkun>