Liz tapped Harry on the shoulder. She spoke into the mic of the helmet. “There. A pawn shop, maybe they’ll have guns.”
They rolled past shattered bodies and remnants of a typical small town in Texas. A flower shop, a bakery and the remains of a boutique baby store. At the end of the block was a sign in fading colors advertising cash for jewelry, guns, and electronics.
There were several bodies in the street around the shop, but none of them were moving. Some wore biker colors while others looked like some of the townspeople. The front window was shattered and remains of a mutilated body spilled over the glass shards. Harry and John eased to a stop. Liz jumped from the bike and hooked the helmet over a handle at the side of the seat.
“Let me do this,” Liz asked. “It’s time I carried my own weight.”
She picked up a tire iron lying at the feet of the body in the window. She ignored the glob of gray matter and hair on the rounded end. Ready to strike, she looked at the door and sighed. The chances of finding weapons were decreasing by the minute.
“Door’s open.” She called over her shoulder as Harry walked up behind her.
Liz pushed the remains of the door out of the way and peered into the store. Finally, she called out. “Hello? Anyone there?”
“Get the fuck out of here! Let me die in peace.” A gravelly male voice called out.
Liz looked at Harry then stepped into the gloom and responded. “We can help you.”
The voice forced a harsh chuckled and whispered. “I’m gut shot. Can’t help this, little girl.” He moaned softly.
“Harry, John. I need help!” Liz called out as she pulled a rag from a shelf and pressed it to the hemorrhaging wound in the middle of an old man’s stomach.
Harry squatted down and moved the hand clutching the rag. “Sorry man.” He told the old man.
“Who did this?” John whispered.
“Fucking bikers.” The man whispered. “Yesterday morning. About two dozen or so mean looking assholes. Leader was ugly, mean bastard with big hair and a do-rag.”
“Ryder and his bunch,” John whispered. “We ran into them ourselves. They cleaned us out. Took all our food and weapons.”
“Bastards.” The old man responded. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
Harry patted the old man’s leg. “We got some payback.” He chuckled. “Led ‘em right into a herd of dead heads. Last we saw, they were getting chewed up pretty good.”
The old man sighed and pulled a key from his pocket and held it out to Liz. “Behind the register. Under the mat. The bag.”
Liz got to her feet and walked to the counter, raised the mat and inserted the key in the metal door in the floor. “Harry?”
Harry stepped to her side and picked up the handle of the heavy door. There was a gun safe embedded in the floor. Among the guns and ammunition was a white canvas bag with a red cross on the side.
Liz picked up the bag and hurried over to the old man. “What can I do?” She unzipped the top.
“There’s morphine in the bag.” He chortled. “It was for the cancer, but I need it now.”
Liz scratched through the bag and found several small bottles labeled morphine. She pulled a syringe from the collection of trauma supplies. She raised the bottle and inserted the needle.
“All of it.” The old man whispered.
She did as he asked, then turned to the man with the syringe in hand. At her look of confusion the man whispered.
“In the vein.”
Liz tied off his arm, inserted the needle then released the tourniquet. The man’s eyes fluttered then his face relaxed.
“My name’s Ed. Ed O’Hara.” His voice slurred, but he continued. “You ran into that bastard Willie Ryder?”
“He took all our supplies and was gonna to kill us.” Liz responded.
Ed nodded. “They’re bad as they come. I took out a couple, but couldn’t stop them from cleaning out my place.”
Harry patted the man on the leg. “Rest easy, we put some hurt on ‘em.”
John walked to the window and looked out. When he came back, he whispered. “Infected are headed this way.”
“Get what you can use from the safe.” Ed whispered. “You have to get moving.”
Harry grabbed Liz’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “We gotta go.”
Liz let herself be guided to the safe. Without speaking, she helped carry ammunition to the bikes. When only a few boxes were left, she walked back to Ed’s side. “Thank you. Is there any more I can do for you?”
He pushed the med-kit toward her. “Take it. I won’t need it.”
She zipped it closed and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m sorry we can’t do anything more.” She whispered.
“Go.” Ed answered. “Please.” He whispered as he looked at John.
John nodded.
Harry called out. “Now, Lizzy! We gotta go.”
Liz ran out of the store with Harry close behind. He forced a gun into her hand and pulled her onto the bike then cranked the engine. Liz turned and fired at a monster less than six feet away. His head exploded and he dropped to the ground.
“John! Now!” Harry shouted.
John fired from inside the store and a single infected fell to the ground. Two more shots and another infected fell. John ran to his bike, cranked the engine and the pair of motorcycles raced from the parking lot to the street and away.
Charlotte Hoaks. . . .(C. A. Hoaks) 