Page 7

Six months. We’ve made it six months.

Fall is right around the corner and we are running low on resources even after raiding all the houses in our neighborhood.

None of them showed signs that their human inhabitants survived the outbreak.

If they did, they didn’t stick around.

Most of the houses around here are surrounded by rocky terrain or a stream.

An environment that has likely kept us safe for this long.

But we had our fair share of zombie encounters while raiding our neighbors.

Likely people who’d gotten bitten somewhere else, came home, turned, and ate their families.

The thought makes my stomach churn.

Jonah’s dad had turned before we even returned from prom.

I know Jonah put him down because I didn’t hear or see him again after that night.

Jonah’s mom…she was waiting for us as if her zombie self knew we’d try to sneak in through the garage of her house.

Something Jonah and I hadn’t attempted until five months after the outbreak when all the other houses nearby had been emptied of the resources we needed.

We were as prepared as we could be upon entering Jonah’s home, but nothing can prepare a person to see a loved one turned into an emaciated flesh-eating zombie.

Knowing Jonah had put down his dad, I couldn’t let him do the same to his mother.

He’d been through enough.

He’d lost so much.

And yes, so have I.

But there’s also a bit of hope for me.

Just because I haven’t heard from my mother and Hayden doesn’t mean they are dead.

They could be alive.

Jonah’s parents, his sister, are dead.

We saw them die.

Putting down Mrs. Rosenberg had been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Not physically, but emotionally.

Unlike the zombies on day one and even ones we’d come across on our raids, this one was slow.

Perhaps it was because it had been locked in a house without a food source for months, decaying at a faster rate, becoming less of a threat.

I acted on instinct, not just needing to take the burden from Jonah, but because it has now become my instinct to kill first. Something I had gotten pretty good at during our raids.

Six months of surviving has been exhausting.

So much so that Jonah and I haven’t really explored our relationship.

I’ve been too much on edge to let Jonah touch me, even when we are safely barricaded in my house.

Sex was never a priority for me in relationships anyway, even in the before.

I need time to feel comfortable with someone.

Which is why I never had sex with Jake.

Or anyone.

I feel more than comfortable around Jonah.

I want to have sex with him.

I really do. I’m just freaked out every second of the day.

He understands. In his own way, I don’t think he’s ready yet either.

We’ve both been through a lot.

Too much.

Our number one priority is finding a way out of our abandoned town and into a safe zone.

We had found a radio in one of the houses we raided.

After turning through the channels a million times, we finally locked onto a message about a survivor community.

Jonah’s family camper van will get us there.

We just need to stock up on resources and figure out exactly where to go.

The last thing we want to do is leave our own small safe corner of the world and venture into the unknown without a plan.

First step of the plan?

We raid ShopRite. It’s a risk, but we are hoping it’s not overrun with zombies.

Jonah and I have already done a drive-by.

It didn’t look too bad.

If we can grab a huge supply of canned goods, toothpaste, and soap, it’ll be worth it.

Since Jonah and I had worked at ShopRite for the last few years, we have an intimate knowledge of the layout and know exactly which aisles to target.

The parking lot is eerily quiet, even though there are a good number of cars parked.

Cars that have likely been here since day zero.

Jonah parks his family’s camper van in front of the online order pickup and delivery doors.

We figured this would be a safer route inside.

Before exiting the van, Jonah and I suit up.

After putting on work gloves, we then take turns wrapping duct tape around our most vulnerable areas.

Ankles. Wrists. Anywhere our clothes might slide off to show bare skin.

We even go the extra mile and put our old roller skating protection gear over our knees, elbows, and wrists.

The end result makes us look like total nerds, but at least we are safe nerds.

Jonah nods to me after we wrap scarves around our necks and head, the final step in applying our raiding gear.

The late summer heat of September is making way for fall, but it’s still hot enough to roast us in all this gear.

But I’d take safety over comfort any day in this post-apocalyptic nightmare.

I follow Jonah out of the van, holding my choice of weapon securely in my right hand.

A softball bat. The bat I used to score the winning point in the playoffs last year.

The bat I used to smash in Mrs. Rosenberg’s head.

Closing the camper van’s sliding door gently, I follow Jonah into the side entrance of our local ShopRite.

The small vestibule where groceries are stored for online pickup orders shows zero signs of life or undead movement.

My chest unclenches part of the way, relieved we don’t have to start off fighting our way inside.

I head over to a triple-tiered rolling cart filled with crates, then empty all the perishable goods that have turned moldy or decayed.

There’s quite a few canned goods in there too, which I keep in one of the crates.

I nod to Jonah, who is stationed at the interior door, looking through the glass for any signs of movement.

When he sees that I’m ready, he slowly opens the door, stepping out to look around the corners before waving me through.

He lets me pass him before stepping in pace with me, guarding my six.

I head down the last aisle of the store where all the snacks are, passing the aisle of moldy bread.

As quietly as possible, Jonah and I grab as many packages of nuts, jerky, and trail mix as we can find.

I take the last bag of dark chocolate almonds as Jonah slips by me to get a few bags of potato chips.

“I know we don’t need these, but I’ve been craving these real bad,” he says as he gently places them in one of the crates.

I smile up at him, shaking my head, and pull the cart around to go move to our next targeted aisle.

Beverages. As we pass by the ice cream aisle, the reality of our situation hits hard.

How many times have I walked down this aisle, perusing the unlimited choices of frozen treats with my mom and Hayden as we prepare for a cozy night in?

Forcing my gaze away from my memories, I look ahead, spotting aisle ten.

I slowly push the cart around into the aisle, stopping to peer down for a better look.

Clear. That knot in my chest loosens a bit more.

Jonah grabs the last few gallons of water left on the shelf, placing them on the lower rack of the cart.

We get back into formation, Jonah looking behind us as I look ahead.

All that’s left to grab are canned goods and some hygiene products.

As I turn into the next aisle, I pause when I see a shadow at the other end.

Squinting my eyes helps to provide a better visual of the shadow.

It’s just a paper towel from the meat section in the back.

I breathe again and turn all the way into the aisle.

Jonah doesn’t join me as I pick up canned beans, carrots, and whatever else I can find.

When I look over to see what he’s doing at the front of the store, I accidentally drop a freaking can.

In any other scenario, it wouldn’t have sounded this loud.

The bang it makes as it drops to the floor echoes off of every single surface in the store.

I don’t move. I don’t breathe.

I don’t blink. Jonah is by my side a second later, holding a firework in his hand, motioning me to move.

Now. At the other end of the aisle I hear groaning, but I don’t look back.

The groaning is quickly accompanied by the shuffling of feet.

Lots of feet. At least it’s not the loud stomping of feet from the zombies we encountered in the first couple of months after the outbreak.

“Stay here,” Jonah whispers, ripping the firework from its packaging.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-shout back.

“Saving our asses. Now stay here. We don’t have time to argue.”

My body freezes in place as if obediently listening to Jonah’s words and my chest is back to clenching so hard I can barely breathe.

The zombie from the other end of the canned goods aisle is not even half-way down, but the space between us gets closer and closer with each little shuffle it takes toward me.

Then a loud crackling sound blasts from the other end of the store.

Fireworks. Jonah sprints back the same way he had gone as color flashes from the produce section.

As he approaches me, the slow zombie I had been staring down slowly shifts around to investigate the new sound.

“We’ll have to make do with what we have in the cart. Let’s get out of here,” Jonah whispers.

“I’m so sorry,” I say softly, placing my hands on the handle of the cart and pushing it back toward the way we had come in.

This time, at a run.

“It’s okay, Shortcake,” Jonah whispers as he runs at my side.

“We have more than enough. Who needs soap when we’ve already gotten used to each other’s stench?”

A smile fights its way through the fear riddling my body.

Before I can shake off a single drop of fear, a zombie steps out in front of us, grabbing at us but missing by a foot.

Like I had thought since that very first night, these things can’t see.

But they can hear. Jonah slides my bat from the top crate and swings with all his strength, hitting his mark.

The zombie goes down and we don’t wait to see if it gets back up as we quicken our pace to sprinting.

Jonah pushes himself faster, making his way in front of me and the cart to open the door to the home delivery vestibule.

Once inside, we take a quick survey of the room that had been unoccupied before.

All clear. I breathe in deeply, listening to the faint sounds of fireworks from the other side of the store.

“How many did you set off?” I ask Jonah.

“A whole box.” Jonah pushes a cabinet in front of the interior door, then turns to me, grabbing me by the waist and kisses me like his next breath depends on it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” an unknown voice says from behind Jonah, where the door leading outside is.

Jonah goes still, his lips still brushing against mine.

The both of us stop breathing.

“Really, I am sorry. But I must insist that you detach, unarm yourselves, and step over to me and my men without causing any trouble.”

A shiver runs down my body, but not the blissful passion I had felt less than a minute ago.

Dread. That is what I feel now.

“What do we do?” I whisper to Jonah.

“I can hear you,” the man says.

“So let me answer. Do what I asked, and you will not be harmed.”

Jonah reaches around me, grabbing the hilt of a knife I had placed there as we armed up.

He turns around slowly, keeping his hand on the hilt behind my back.

Three men stand inside the vestibule.

They must have slipped in while Jonah and I were kissing.

“Now don’t do anything stupid,” says the man on the left.

Does he know we are armed?

What do they want? If they wanted to just steal from us, they would have killed Jonah and me already.

I feel the blade of my knife slip from its sheath as Jonah moves his hand away from me.

But I can’t hear a damn thing as he launches toward our assailants.

It looks like the man in the middle is laughing at Jonah, but the thumping of my heart drowns out everything else.

The man on the left takes one swing, knocking Jonah out cold.

“No!” I scream, trying to run to him.

Then the world around me goes black.