out loud.
I put my rifle on safe and limped over to her, held out my hand.
“Nick Agostine, US Army Irregular Scouts. Sorry I screwed up your shoulder.”
She grabbed my hand, pulled and smashed her forehead into my face. I saw stars and fell down to the floor.
“Pleased to meet you, Nick. My name is Brit O’Neil, and NOW we’re even.”
Chapter 5
I held out the squirrel I had been roasting on a stick, and she made a disgusted face at me. I shrugged and said “Suit yourself. I just killed it yesterday. Still fresh.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“Ha!” I laughed out loud. She looked at me over the cup of soup she was drinking.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I looked at her again. Apparently she was serious.
“How can you survive as a vegetarian?” In answer, she waved at the stacks of cans that lined some of the shelves in the library while she shoveled soup into her mouth.
It actually wasn’t too bad of a place. A propane heater roared behind us, heating the fifth floor room we were sitting in. Cans of propane were stacked up, warm clothes, boxes of shotgun ammo. A small propane lamp lit the room, and a pot of soup was boiling on a camp stove.
“So let me get this straight. You have hidden here since the meltdown? Why didn’t you go when they evacuated Syracuse?”
She swabbed out the remains of her soup with some MRE bread I had given her. I had popped her arm back in place, and then I rigged up a makeshift sling. “I saw how that disaster was going to shape up. I watched from the highest building on campus while they tried to run that clusterfuck out of the airport. Do you think I wanted to be on a bus full of idiot college kids when a swarm from the suburbs overran their convoy? OMG, THEY’RE, LIKE,KILLING US!”
I knew what she was talking about. Efforts to evacuate civilian populations had gone to hell quick and the government had finally given up, fallen back to hold the Pacific Northwest.
“So, you just … survived?”
“Pretty much. People are stupid. They panic, they die. I didn’t panic. I was studying to be a physicist, for Christ sake.” She started laughing, and I waited for her to stop. She didn’t stop, and her laughter changed to hysterics. I waited till she was out of breath. Then she started crying.
I watched her for a few minutes, till she stopped. “You OK?”
“NO I AM NOT FUCKING OK? WHAT ARE YOU STUPID?” She threw her bowl at me and kept crying.
I still waited. I had seen it before. We were all, collectively, suffering from some kind of psychosis. Maybe some people back in Seattle, who had been spared the outbreak, might be considered “normal”, but anyone who had gone through it wore the scars, outside and in.
Eventually, she stopped.
“Are you going to play amateur pshrink on me? Tell me I’m crazy?”
“You are crazy. I’m crazy. Anyone who survived is crazy. The things we had to do to survive. I had to beat my wife’s brains in after she turned Zombie and ate our baby daughter.” I saw it in my minds’ eye, all over again. Like I did every day.
“Damn. That’s cold.”
“Yeah. Like I said, we all have issues. Nice place you have here. How do you survive?”
She seemed grateful for the change of subject. “I survive by being smart. I have cables rigged so I can get out of any side of the building I need to. I can get in here from three different buildings.”
“How do you avoid the Z’s?”
“I studied them. Ain’t that right, Professor?” She shone a flashlight into an alcove behind her, and I jumped up, reaching for my pistol.
“Holy Crap!”
She burst out laughing. Stuck on the end of a broomhandle was the head of zombie, and its jaws had started snapping when she shone the light on it.
“My old biology professor. Thought he knew everything. Hahah.”
“You, you studied them?”
“Sure! I’m a scientist, right? Or I was going to be one. Not that I care anymore, but it IS interesting. For example, did you
I put my rifle on safe and limped over to her, held out my hand.
“Nick Agostine, US Army Irregular Scouts. Sorry I screwed up your shoulder.”
She grabbed my hand, pulled and smashed her forehead into my face. I saw stars and fell down to the floor.
“Pleased to meet you, Nick. My name is Brit O’Neil, and NOW we’re even.”
Chapter 5
I held out the squirrel I had been roasting on a stick, and she made a disgusted face at me. I shrugged and said “Suit yourself. I just killed it yesterday. Still fresh.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“Ha!” I laughed out loud. She looked at me over the cup of soup she was drinking.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I looked at her again. Apparently she was serious.
“How can you survive as a vegetarian?” In answer, she waved at the stacks of cans that lined some of the shelves in the library while she shoveled soup into her mouth.
It actually wasn’t too bad of a place. A propane heater roared behind us, heating the fifth floor room we were sitting in. Cans of propane were stacked up, warm clothes, boxes of shotgun ammo. A small propane lamp lit the room, and a pot of soup was boiling on a camp stove.
“So let me get this straight. You have hidden here since the meltdown? Why didn’t you go when they evacuated Syracuse?”
She swabbed out the remains of her soup with some MRE bread I had given her. I had popped her arm back in place, and then I rigged up a makeshift sling. “I saw how that disaster was going to shape up. I watched from the highest building on campus while they tried to run that clusterfuck out of the airport. Do you think I wanted to be on a bus full of idiot college kids when a swarm from the suburbs overran their convoy? OMG, THEY’RE, LIKE,KILLING US!”
I knew what she was talking about. Efforts to evacuate civilian populations had gone to hell quick and the government had finally given up, fallen back to hold the Pacific Northwest.
“So, you just … survived?”
“Pretty much. People are stupid. They panic, they die. I didn’t panic. I was studying to be a physicist, for Christ sake.” She started laughing, and I waited for her to stop. She didn’t stop, and her laughter changed to hysterics. I waited till she was out of breath. Then she started crying.
I watched her for a few minutes, till she stopped. “You OK?”
“NO I AM NOT FUCKING OK? WHAT ARE YOU STUPID?” She threw her bowl at me and kept crying.
I still waited. I had seen it before. We were all, collectively, suffering from some kind of psychosis. Maybe some people back in Seattle, who had been spared the outbreak, might be considered “normal”, but anyone who had gone through it wore the scars, outside and in.
Eventually, she stopped.
“Are you going to play amateur pshrink on me? Tell me I’m crazy?”
“You are crazy. I’m crazy. Anyone who survived is crazy. The things we had to do to survive. I had to beat my wife’s brains in after she turned Zombie and ate our baby daughter.” I saw it in my minds’ eye, all over again. Like I did every day.
“Damn. That’s cold.”
“Yeah. Like I said, we all have issues. Nice place you have here. How do you survive?”
She seemed grateful for the change of subject. “I survive by being smart. I have cables rigged so I can get out of any side of the building I need to. I can get in here from three different buildings.”
“How do you avoid the Z’s?”
“I studied them. Ain’t that right, Professor?” She shone a flashlight into an alcove behind her, and I jumped up, reaching for my pistol.
“Holy Crap!”
She burst out laughing. Stuck on the end of a broomhandle was the head of zombie, and its jaws had started snapping when she shone the light on it.
“My old biology professor. Thought he knew everything. Hahah.”
“You, you studied them?”
“Sure! I’m a scientist, right? Or I was going to be one. Not that I care anymore, but it IS interesting. For example, did you
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