ZOMB-POCALYPSE

Chapter Eleven

My eyes flutter open when I feel rough hands grabbing my shoulder. I let out a cry as my cut arm is jostled, and I try desperately to bring myself to full consciousness with a series of stern mental slaps.

I feel those same hands shaking me. At first, I can't understand what's happening. The backpack strap comes free of my shoulder, and I finally manage to see my attacker. Fear runs cold down my spine at what I see. I consider pretending to be dead in hopes that he'll leave me alone, but the guy is stealing my backpack, and I just risked my life for this stuff.

"Hey!" I yell, struggling to sit up as the guy keeps pulling on my backpack, trying to get it off my body.

"What do you need it for? You'll be dead soon," the guy huffs callously.

I go ice cold at his words. He's going to kill me. Suddenly, the contents of my backpack don't seem worth dying over.

"Please don't kill me." I know I sound pathetic and whimpery, but apparently that's what facing a homicidal maniac will do to a person. "You can take the backpack...just please, let me go." I know I'm too weak to even try fighting back. I just hope that he'll take pity on me.

"I won't kill ya. Not till you turn anyway, don't worry," the guy says, almost kindly.

I'm confused. "What?" I ask.

The guy looks at me like he thinks I'm a huge pain in the ass. "You got bit," he clarifies.

Fear strikes my heart as I frantically start searching my body for a bite that I apparently didn't even feel in my adrenaline-infused state.

I don't see or feel anything. Though, it's really hard to feel anything other than the massive, throbbing pain in my arm. I look up to see the guy staring at me like I'm crazy.

"Yer arm," he says, pointing.

An immense feeling of relief rushes through my body. "I didn't get bit. I cut my arm on some glass while I was escaping from that building." I point towards the pharmacy where the broken window is visible.

"You climbed out of there?" the guy asks.

I nod my head. "More like fell on my face," I mutter darkly.

The guy actually looks impressed. "Damn girl," he says. It's the first time I notice his pronounced southern drawl.

"Are you still going to steal my backpack?" I ask, since he isn't pulling at it anymore. The guy looks like he's seriously considering it, and I regret my smart mouth for a minute.

"I guess I'll wait to see if you're lying about that bite first," he decides, and relief floods through me.

"You'd better come in and get that arm looked at," he says after a minute of standing there, staring down at me sprawled out on the ground.

I nod and try to stand up, but I'm weak from the blood loss and I end up almost falling off the ledge of the fire escape.

The guy catches me and holds me steady while I start to limp along. "This is going to take all day," he complains before sweeping me up in his arms and carrying me towards the window. It's actually a pretty big window, so we both fit. He only has to stoop down a bit as he carries me inside.

He takes me over to a hideous, floral print couch and gently sets me down. Then, he stands over me, scratching his head. "I'm not really sure what I have that will help you," he admits.

"I have a first aid kit in my backpack," I tell him, finally willing to share the contents with him, since he's going to help me.

He takes my backpack off, this time much gentler than before. He's even more careful when he gets to my blood-soaked arm. "I think we're gonna have to cut this sweater off," he predicts after carefully examining my arm.