Chapter Three: Meet Pete

53.7K 1.1K 333
                                    

Chapter Three: Meet Pete

Lanni brought the rubber tubing down on his barrel like a jump rope, deflecting it towards the floor. With a deafening blast, it destroyed the tile between her feet. She dropped into a wide legged squat, throwing a loop of hose around the barrel.

Off-balance and surprised, the cop stumbled back against the door frame, holding the gun's stock in one hand while his other grasped at the wall to regain his balance. Lanni dropped to her side on the floor and kicked his ankle, tugging the weapon towards her as he fell.

Dropping the hose, she snatched the shotgun from the air and spun it towards him, pumping a shell into the chamber.

"Get in here and close the door," she said. The world returned to a normal pace after its strange slow-down. The cop did as she said, and put his hands up.

"Easy does it," he said. "I don't want to hurt you." His eyes dipped for moment at her naked body, and then shot back up to lock onto hers.

"I guess your Remington has a mind of its own, then. I better hang on to it until we're sure it's going to behave."

He nodded without looking away from her eyes. Smile lines and crows feet furrowed his round, tan face. It was a friendly enough face. She could almost see the wheels spinning behind his eyes; trying to figure a way out of his predicament.

"Fair enough," he said. "You got two shells left. If you can find your way to not putting either of them in me, I'd be in your debt. I'm Pete. What's your name?"

"Nice to meet you, Pete. My name's none of your business. Get over on the other side of the bed. Let me know if you see my clothes. Remi and I are watching, so keep your hands away from that pistol."

"I'm not interested in shooting you, okay?" He kept his voice calm and steady as he limped past her, scanning the room. "That was an accident. Everyone outside that door has gone crazy. They're killing each other out there. I'm just a guy trying to stay alive, and I can help keep you that way, too, if you'll let me."

She remembered the bloody scene in her parents' bedroom, and the monster that had killed them. Jacob, her brother's friend, had gone a bit crazy, too. In that light, Pete's story wasn't beyond belief.

A woman's voice came from the hall. She ran past the door screaming in an oddly low, primal tone. A clacking sound, like an animal with long toenails or claws followed after her, and then they both fell silent.

"I don't see your clothes, hon," he said, untucking his shirt. "If we stay here, something's gonna find us, and we'll have to fight it. I don't plan on standing here with my hands in the air waiting to get torn up. If you're gonna shoot me, let's just get it out of the way." He started unfastening his shirt buttons as he spoke.

"What do you think you're doing, Pete?"

"It's the apocalypse out there. Do you really want to run around killing zombies with nothing but a shotgun and a smile?" He pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the bed. "I'll turn around while you get dressed. Meanwhile, you should think about taking my pistol and letting me carry the shotgun. It'll be easier for you to manage. I'll give you a quick lesson on how to shoot before we go."

"Put your pistol on the bed, too," she said.

He flipped the holster's safety strap and drew the pistol with two fingers and gently set it beside his shirt.

"Here you go. It's loaded."

"I'd sure hope so, Pete," she said with a touch of sarcasm. She looked the weapon over, ejected the clip, and pulled the slide to check the chamber. It was a nine millimeter with a much fatter grip than she would have liked. At least the trigger was in the right place. She set the shotgun back on the bed, barrel towards Pete.

Children of the PlagueWhere stories live. Discover now