Locked doors, Empty Pistols, and No Keys

Six of what Brown as forced to admit were some kind of walking dead still moved within the desolated parking lot. Two of them were former friends, but that might not matter much, for friends didn’t walk around dragging their guts or with their neck’s torn out.
The mother and her daughter had fled to the front of the gas station’s store, but as Brown had already discovered, its doors remained locked. The two nearest moving dead had almost reached them.

“What about your pistol, Brown?’ Trevor asked as he reluctantly jogged behind him. The pair had dodged past the two that killed Nick, as well as Nick and Brown’s former best friend, Glen.
Only fifty feet separated the men from the backs of the two zombies approaching the little family. “Last time I shot one, it didn’t work.”
“Try for the head. It always works in the movies.”
He slowed down and took aim. But with the moaning of the zombies both before and behind him the shot went wide.
“Come on man, you only have three shots left.”
Instead of firing again, Brown rushed closer to the zombies that were only yards from the terrified girls. He waited until he was almost upon them and fired at the side of one’s temple. It collapsed with a bloody explosion.

The second one turned on him and Brown brought the pistol up to its forehead and shot through his skull at almost point bank range.
“Damn, dude. Nice work. But come on the others are coming. Holy shit, your gunshots must have attracted more. Oh no, more are coming from the restaurant across the street.” Looking back over his shoulders, Trevor continued, “Damn there are some coming from the rigs too. We’re screwed.”

“You’re all insane,” the mother screamed.
Despite himself, Brown noticed, now that they were closer, that she was quite an attractive woman with long flowing auburn hair. “Insane or not, we just saved your lives. Now please step aside, I have one bullet left and I’m going to use it on the lock.
Once he pointed Glen’s pistol toward the door, she hurried to move out of the way. Again, he brought the pistol in close to his target—the door lock. The moaning drew in closer as he steadied his aim.
The shot seemed louder than the others and rang in his ears.
Trevor didn’t hesitate, though, and run forward. He rattled the doors for a moment. “It didn’t work. It didn’t work!”
The zombies neared as Brown joined him.
“Mommy what’s wrong with these people. They look really sick. I‘m scared.”

“Shush, honey.”
With Brown’s help, the men were able to push through the shattered lock and open the door. “Get inside!” Brown ordered as he pocketed the pistol. There had to be ten of the lumbering shapes in view. He took the two-by-four that he still carried in his left hand and threw it into the face of the nearest zombie. A blow that would have sent a normal man stumbling back in pain, barely slowed it down a second.
Behind him, Trevor shouted, “Come on!”
Brown had no problem following the teen’s advice.
Once inside, Trevor addressed him again. “How are we going to shut the door with the lock blown off?”
“Go find something, hurry!”
Trevor ran off to comply.
Brown prepared to brace the door as the first bloody hands slapped against the window. Jagged mouths bit at the glass and dull milky eyes stared at him with gruesome hunger. “Please try to help him find something to secure the door,” he told the woman.

He caught her staring at him for a moment, but then she rushed off, dragging her daughter along by her small hand.
Trevor returned first. “All I could find was bungee cords.”
“It’s a start. Get them through the crash bars. Trevor had begun working on his second cord when he heard the mother let out a piercing scream.


To be continued next Saturday!


You can find out more about Brown and the Eternal Aftermath here!