Fortunes & Failures - 03 Read Online Free PDF Page B

sliding glass door, then closing it again. Of course, I preferred this total sensation of exhaustion over the stomach cramps of the first few days. I’d already vetoed the idea of taking a stage-dive into the masses waiting hungrily below. Starving to death, while unpleasant, easily won my vote over being torn apart and eaten alive. Once the water runs out, this whole miserable experience might come to a fast ending.
     
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    I woke to what started out as a dull buzz, muffled and distant, but slowly grew to a whine, then almost a roar. It was coming from out back.
    Climbing slowly to my feet, I could see that it had morphed into early evening. All the shadows were pointing the other direction. It’s amazing how observant you become when you have nothing but tedious boredom to occupy each grueling hour of the day or night.
    Walking to the window, I stared out and noticed immediately that the zombies had all turned their backs on me. Literally. What the hell ? I don’t know if I said that…or just thought it really loud.
    Something low on the waterline flashed by; a rooster tail glittering in the late afternoon sun. I only had an armsbreadth view of the lake as trees on both sides screened off most of the vista. Once more the form shot past, this time going from left to right.
    If it comes by again, I will concede the probability of this only being an illusion brought on by starvation-induced dementia. I walked to the sliding glass door, struggling just a bit to pull it open. It seemed heavier than last time. Of course the smell came in a rush, along with the obviously agitated sounds of the undead. The buzz grew, magnified by the now open glass door. And there it was…a small hydroplane flashed past again. Stepping out onto the deck I could see somewhat through the dense pines as the craft slowed, its roostertail vanishing, then a sheet of water as it turned back for yet another pass. Then I noticed something interesting; the zombies were pouring down to the shore.
    I had absolutely no idea who this was, but they were giving me a chance. Maybe. I went inside, not bothering to close the sliding glass door behind me, and staggered through the building. I made my way to the room that I’d crawled through the window of when I first arrived. Did I dare to hope?
    Peeking out from the side, I could see the long, two-lane avenue through the heart of this little town. Stragglers were still visible, but all of them were heading past this building! Then I saw two figures poke out from behind a big truck a couple of blocks away. Both were bristling with weapons. There was no doubt in my mind that they were heading straight for me.
    I considered my options—which took less than ten seconds—weak and hungry, I would be no problem for at least two people packing serious weaponry. I pulled aside the bottom slat that I hammered into place, not that there was any chance of a zombie getting up and through a window as high above ground as this one. I’d done it mostly for peace of mind; even if I knew it was a placebo.
    “Steve!” a familiar voice called as the two men closed in on me at a sprint.
    “Aaron?” I stepped up on the box and tried to pull myself through the window. I heard the distinctive sound of a skull being cleaved, but was too occupied with my struggle now that I’d managed to work myself halfway out of the window. Kicking my feet and wriggling, my progress was anything but quick. I felt a tug which frightened me. I only realized in the split-second before I hit the ground that my pants were caught on a piece of aluminum window frame. That’s how I ended up facedown in the dirt wearing my pit-stained tee shirt and two-week-old underpants when Jamie Blossington rolled me over and extended a hand to help me up.
    “Come with me if you want to live,” Jamie said in what had to be the worst ‘Ah-nold’ impersonation I’d ever heard.
    Reaching up, I did my best to help get to my feet, al-though I don’t think I