Gemini

Chapter 6* Like Clockwork, Here I come...

The first thing I do is stuff as many packet of biscuits as can fit into my backpack.

It’s stupid and totally random, I know. I guess it’s like a panic reaction or something. Anyway and I stuff and stuff until my backpack can hold no more, and then I sling it over my shoulder and turn to look at Sam, who is clutching his hand and moaning in pain.

“Shit, are you okay?” I exclaim, racing over to him and squatting down. “Did it hurt your hand in any way-”

“I’m okay,” he interrupts my tirade with a shaky smile. “Never better.”

“Oh, that’s damn funny,” I say sarcastically, helping him up. “Let’s wait until your hand really splits open, and don’t you dare blame that on my stitching skills either, because it was you who made me stitch you up even though I am obviously not a doctor-”

“Kayla,” he interrupts again. “Shhh.”

I shut up, flaming red in the cheeks. My eyes follow his gaze all the way to behind the counter, and sucking in a sharp breath, I take a step back.

“Oh god…”

There is a woman slumped behind the counter, still clad in the trademark red and green outfit of seven-eleven store workers. She is obviously dead. Leaning against the cigarette packets stacked up behind, there is nothing remarkable about her, apart from the fact that she is obviously not breathing. Only one, disturbingly eerie thing stands out, inked into her forehead.

An infinity sign. The one I always used in math, a horizontal eight. It is inked, dark as night, into the smooth, pale skin of her forehead like a tattoo.

“Shit,” I hear Sam cuss faintly. “That doesn’t look good.”

“It doesn’t,” I agree weakly, and then the woman sits up.

I let out a scream. Practically crashing through shelves in my hurry to get away from there, I actually trip over a few cans and Sam catches me, pulling me upright. His grip is strong, warm and comforting, but definitely not enough to distract me from the creepy woman who is steadily making her way past the counter.

Some part of my body breaks through the confusion and forces my numb hands to unsheathe my dagger from my pouch, and wield it threateningly. “Stay back.” I warn in a useless effort.

The woman is gone. Now, that creature, that thing, residing in her body is not human, not one ounce, and it is beyond any reasoning or coaxing to get the hell away from me. So I do what is most human-ish.

I scream and run.

Dragging Sam with me, we dash out of the store and out into the street. At first sight, everything seems peaceful, normal, even, what with the empty streets and dozens of parked cars littering the road. Just a slow, Saturday afternoon. That is until you see the armies of people, all with the infinity signs stamped on their foreheads, marching up the road in scarily accurate sync.

Groaning, I steer Sam towards the buildings. Tall, made of stone the color of birch, my eyes instantly make out the good firing spots at the top. Picking one at random, I pull Sam with me into the building.

“Stairs,” he gasps, getting it. We make a run for it. Bursting through the doors we climb up stairs until my lungs ache and my feet scream obscenities at me, but I order my muscles to quit their bitching and just run.

Emerging out into fresh air and bright sunlight, I find myself on the rooftop of a tall building, facing the street where zombies- or things close to them anyway- line the streets, roaring. Screaming. Shouting for blood. Quick as a flash Sam notches an arrow and shoots one of them down.