Red Winter Read Free Page B

be without electricity. It was something I could hold onto, that reminded me of a normal life.

I loaded myself up. Long-sleeve shirts, jeans, worker's gloves. Anything that could protect me from them. I grabbed my bat and a backpack with a gas can inside and departed the safety of my apartment.

My plan was flawless. There's a fire escape on the side of my building, one that runs along the side and stops on the second story. Adjacent to the building is a gas station, a new Shell that was built last year and parked right along side the pumps was a large gas truck. A quick jump across a narrow alley and I'm on the roof, easily able to get into the store via a convenient trap door on the roof.

I had it all scouted out and perfectly planned. All I had to do was execute.

The first part went off without a hitch. Or well, sort of. It was easy enough to get onto the fire escape and move down, but it sure as hell made a lot of noise. And noise is a sure way to attract our hungry friends. By the time I was down on the third story, the alley below was packed.

It's one thing to look at them from several stories up. It's another thing to be right above a crowd of them. They moved around as if in a mosh pit at a concert, fighting against each other, raising their arms to the sky and staring through with their empty eyes, knowing only one thing: hunger.

I sat there, watching, mesmerized by the chaotic mass. They stared and I stared back.

Finally, I stood and looked across the alley at the gas station roof, sitting slightly higher than the second floor of the apartment. I climbed to the railing, crouching and hanging onto the ladder beside me to keep my balance. I primed myself and leaped, flying above their reaching arms, grasping at air.

The landing was awkward, thanks to a misjudgment on my part. I attempted to tuck, but was too late and instead turned my ankle, feeling pain shoot up as I rolled over, finally coming to a stop with a painful collision with a vent.

I don't think I was knocked out, but I was definitely dazed, and when I snapped out of it, my hair was matted down with still-wet blood. I stood up, but doubled back over with pain. My ankle throbbed, not broken, but definitely sprained. It took some time before I was able to walk again, but I won't bore you with the details of that.

I was extra cautious as I slid open the trap door that led down into the back area of the gas station. I shone the light from my flashlight down into the area, scanning thoroughly to make sure there were no unwanted guests. Satisfied that it was empty, I gingerly made my way down the ladder.

It wasn't until I made my way into the store that I realized what I should have before I got down there: the gas was outside...with them. I collapsed down against a shelf of candy, staring out through the glass windows at the mass of people moving through the streets, aimlessly searching for food.

I must have stared at the display case for ten minutes before it hit me. I struggled to my feet and hobbled over to the formerly refrigerated cases still filled with various drinks. I pulled open the glass door and removed a twelve pack of Budweiser bottles (I figured if I was going to waste beer, it may as well be crappy beer) and brought it to the front of the store.

One by one, I popped the cap off each bottle and poured the now-stale beer on the floor. I then pulled a bottle of lighter fluid and began filling each bottle with it. Once that was finished, I used some rags from the office as fuses and grabbed a couple of lighters from the counter.

A quick glance out the front showed me that the sun was sinking, meaning that time was short. I didn't want to be caught after dark. The lighters were all filled with fluid, but I still held my breath as I flicked it, my hand shaking. It took a few tries, but I finally got it, lighting the first one.

The door was unlocked (pure luck, would have figured that I would set myself on fire because the damn door was