Fortunes & Failures - 03 Read Free

olives, and artichoke hearts.
    The second storage room brought tears to his eyes. Cases of San Pelligrino bottled water lined the walls. Cans of coconut milk and a variety of fruit juices—most likely gone bad by now—also took up the space. This was a bounty beyond his wildest expectations. Any moment now , he thought, I will wake up in that stinky crawlspace. Almost hesitantly, he pinched himself, unsure if that would work to wake him from a dream or not.
    What he needed was a way to haul all of this stuff from the storage rooms of this restaurant to someplace that he and Heather could set up as secure. Then they could pick through everything at their leisure.He recalled seeing a large military truck on the way in just a few blocks away. They’d passed it when they were trying to evade the pursuit of Shaw and his band of maniacs. If his memeory served, it looked to be in good shape. The only concern would be if the battery still held a charge.
    Grabbing a few bottles of the water and a can of tomato juice, Kevin returned to the swinging door. The dining room was still blessedly empty of the walking dead. Pushing the door he exited the kitchen with just a slight pang of regret.
    The street looked to be clear. He stepped out into the blinding light of the sun and blinked to allow his eyes time to adjust. Even in the short time he’d been inside, the temperature and humidity had climbed noticeably. He scurried up the sidewalk, eyes darting every direction, ears straining to hear the slightest of sounds.
    He ducked into the bank and quickly climbed the stairs; the dark square in the ceiling with the knotted line dangling exactly as he’d left it. His only problem was how to climb up while holding the can of tomato juice. He’d stuffed the water into his pockets, but the can proved to be awkward. He set it on the floor and gave it one final wistful glance before climbing. That task almost proved to be beyond his ability. He’d lost a lot of strength the past few days.
    “Kevin?” a voice hissed, followed by the ratcheting sound of a pump-action shotgun being jacked.
    “It’s me, Heather. Don’t shoot. I’ve got water,” he called back.
    A pair of ghostly pale hands reached down to offer help with the last couple of feet up and in. The stench assaulted his nostrils immediately after having been out in the relatively fresh air. It was an instant reminder of the living conditions that he and Heather had endured the past week. That only strengthened his resolve that it was time to quit this place.
    As he twisted the top off of a bottle of water and handed it to Heather. As she gulped it down, he related what he’d seen. He skipped over the incident with the creeper. He explained the idea of trying to get the truck that they’d passed—if it would start—and brining it to the door once they’d hauled everything out to the curb.
    “What if bunches of zombies show up?”
    “I realize the plan isn’t perfect,” Kevin admitted. “Hell, it barely qualifies as half-assed. It’s just that we have this window of opportunity. I can’t explain why there is little to no activity out there right now, but this is a gift horse we don’t want to look in the mouth. We are in the heart of downtown…I doubt many folks actually lived here. The population masses would be way more dangerous. Plus, we both know that those things start following something and just keep going until they corner it in a building.
    “I imagine huge cities like Chicago and New York had it worse than these small towns, which is why these might be where we look for future supply runs.”
    “What about those men we were running from…the ones who kidnapped the Bergmans?” Heather asked after draining the second bottle of water.
    “From the looks of things on the street, they took quite a hit,” Kevin explained. “I’d be willing to bet that they took a majority of the zombies with them when they bugged out. That might also explain why the streets