Life After the Undead (Completed)

PART 9: A Thief's Consequences .3

Connor's P.O.V.

This jeep was a gift from the god's.

It was like Brandon and Lena were looking down at me from heaven and gifted me with this jeep that was going to help me survive.

Once I was as far out of the city as I could get, I pulled over to examine the specifics of the jeep.

It had a weird set up, and I didn't know what all these toggles and buttons did and after playing around with them a bit I figured since I knew the basics I didn't need to go in depth about everything else on there until I was safely in Toronto and had either set myself up with somewhere safe to go or was with Evelyn and Steve. After that I went around the back and checked out the rattling in the trunk. That turned out to be supplies and a small stockpile of weapons.

Whoever had this vehicle before me was a great trader, they had chocolate and fizzy pops that I hadn't seen in years. I'm not going to lie, I gorged myself on those snack foods saving the canned goods and the ready to eat sandwiches wrapped up in cellophane—oh my god, this person had cellophane AND fresh meat—for later.

And that's what got me sick.

To be fair, I had a lot of time to snack, and there was so much junk food that I had not seen in years. The roads were swarming with Drifters all of sudden, they were all over the highways and major streets so I was having no choice but to hide the car and go down back streets or go through fields and forests to try and be unspotted. And it worked until I got sick and had to pull over into some little gas station.

I had just made it back onto the highway as it was the only way to get into Toronto from where I was going, and I was a little low on gas too, so it would probably be a good idea to top up, maybe take some in a jerry-can. I was so sure I was both going to vomit or shit myself that I just parked the car in the service area and ran into the darkened store. I really should have taken a weapon or at least a flashlight with me, but no, I went in on my own desperate to find a toilet, or something I could squat or hunch over.

But once I felt the slick of something that wasn't quite liquid under my boots the urge to be violently sick was replaced with fear. I knew what that was, it was blood, fully congealing which was why it was sticky under my boots, something had died here recently, or someone had killed a zombie in here. Either way, bodies attracted things that would eat it... like other zombies. I slowed down and finally listened to my surroundings. I could hear it then, this frantic pounding on some door in the near-by vicinity. I continued down the aisle even though the floor was sticky and I could see that I was fast approaching the source of the blood. A zombie, with its head blown off was lying half on its side in the middle of the aisle.

It was dead. Properly fully dead, no resurrecting from that. I could see that, but whatever was behind the door it was lying beside was not. And of course, it's in the fucking washroom. I decided then and there I would just drag my sick ass out into the bushes behind the place and go to town out there, and I had already turned away when the door finally gave way and something came flying out of washroom, colliding with the candy stands and then crashing to the floor in a flailing mess.

I turned, I mean, I shouldn't have, but I did anyway and that was my first mistake. I could tell from where I was standing that the girl who had come flying out of that washroom was a zombie, I mean she was stuck on her back flailing her arms and legs around in an attempt to get back up like a turtle so she obviously wasn't very good at moving, dead limbs were never good at moving around. But I hadn't seen a pretty girl in a long, long time, and this one was missing a shirt. My hormones were getting the better of me. The second that girl got onto her stomach though I should have ran, but again, I didn't I was mesmerized by the way those somehow-still-perky boobs of hers bounced.

The girl turned, her oily blonde hair covering most of her scarred and green tinged pale face, her daisy dukes that literally covered nothing, so she might as well have been naked. She was missing one shoe. I don't know why my mind stuck on that but it did. She hissed at me, black spittle flying everywhere and then she charged me. I realized then that I hadn't even reached for my gun, so at this moment, with this hot half-naked dead woman hurtling towards me with the intent to pull me apart and eat my insides, I was not prepared at all.

Brandon would not have been proud.

I had only enough time to put my hands up to block her, but the sheer force of her tackle sent us both sprawling. The hormones were still raging, even though I had landed on my back in the slick pool of blood with a zombie that was clearly stronger than me snarling and snapping above me all I could think was how lucky I was that my hand placement had landed my hands gripping her two very perky breasts. For her to be decomposing and still have a great pair of firm knockers I would have to assume that she had implants.

But seeing as this was the first time I had gotten to second base, or first base, to be honest I didn't know the bases, even in this life or death situation I was more than a little happy to be in it. Her teeth came for me, nearly getting my cheek and suddenly I wasn't excited to be in this situation, but she was pushing as strong as she could, her arms pulling at me, trying to scratch at me. I might have cried out but I don't remember.

There was a whistle past my head and then the crack of something heavy hitting something that wasn't as strong as whatever was swung. The girl went sprawling, and whoever had the baseball bat went to town on her until she was no longer moving.

During that time, I had got up, hunched over a maggoty display and just vomited my little heart out. When I turned there was a Drifter, a small kid, maybe my age or a bit older, the dripping baseball bat propped on his shoulder of his Drifter Leather Jacket staring at me with cold disapproving ice blue eyes. His blonde hair looked perfect, like he hadn't styled it at all and he just woke up with wonderfully placed hair, he was the kind of pretty boy I had always hated cause they got it easy and four-eyes like me never stood a chance against them.

I didn't know what to say. It wasn't like a Drifter to help someone out in need, not unless they were getting something out of it.

The Drifter swung the bat down and then used it to point at the Jeep I could barely make out through the grimy windows. "Is that yours?" he asked.

Great he wanted my car.

"Yeah, it is," I said puffing my chest out to seem bigger so he'd consider leaving me alone.

He nodded. "You sure?" he asked.

"Yes. It is. And it ain't for sale," I snapped more firmly. "And if you think you can muscle it off of me you've got another thing coming, I'm the only one who knows how to make it work."

The Drifter broke out laughing. "You don't even have the keys," he said through his chuckles and I edged back a bit, because how the hell had he known that?

He sobered up quickly and pointed the baseball bat at me. "The car's not yours. Cause it was my friend that reported it stolen," he snarled. "So here's what I'm going to do, I'm going to..."

I didn't wait to hear what he was going to do. I swatted the baseball bat away from him and swung the hardest punch I could muster. I caught him square on the jaw and that was it. The kid went down, landing straight in the pool of blood that was now accumulating a fresher patch. And then I ran.

I stopped only to puncture the tires of the vehicle that had pulled in behind mine, obviously his. And of course there was about three minutes were I vomited some more, but honestly that was just the candy.

I wasn't an hour away from that gas station when the roads filled up with Drifter cars, all of them chasing me. I had been smart enough to realize by that point that the reason they were after me was because I had stolen a Drifter car, it made sense to me now, why it was all tricked out, why it had great weapons and even better supplies. I mean it was so obvious now that I cursed myself for taking it. But what was I going to do? I couldn't just stop the car and hand it over. I was a thief. I had stolen from the Drifters and they do not take kindly to that. If they caught me, I was as good as dead.

I was in Pickering when I crashed the jeep. After that, it was all down hill.