900 Miles: A Zombie Novel

900 Miles: A Zombie Novel by S. Johnathan Davis

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Authors: S. Johnathan Davis
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system showed going up to the area.
    With a little finesse, I was able to push cars out of the way with the Hummer, and continue on the road that led to the secluded hillside.  We didn’t see any creatures in the area.  It was strange to not see anything at all, but we didn’t question the good fortune.  Still, I couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling.
    We hit an intersection on the outskirts of the town, where a stoplight was blinking red.  It was the first one we’d seen working in days.
    The intersection created a crossroad surrounded by a series of small broken down storefronts on each corner. Aside from the rhythmic blinking of the light above, the shops were devoid of any movement or noise. There was a blue post office box on one corner of the intersection and a yellow “Pedestrian Crossing” sign on a black metal post.
    My eyes were drawn beyond the yellow sign, and focused on a liquor store which simply said , ‘Bottle Shop,’ painted on the window above a still illuminated and brightly glowing OPEN sign. Next door was a small deli, which was missing the front door.
    Kyle nudged my shoulder and pointed my attention over to my right and through his window, and said, “Looks like a pharmacy.”
    “Or what’s left of one .” I nervously shrugged looking over and noticing the front window had been completely blown out.
    “We should check it out anyway.  Might be some medicine for our friend in the back seat,” Kyle suggested.
    Agreeing, I put the Hummer into park right outside the Pharmacy.  Kyle and I eased out, leaving Michael in the back seat.  I had my hammer in my left hand, and opened the broken door to the pharmacy with my right.  I kept glancing around, looking for any signs of life , or worse, the dead.
    We stepped in to find much of the stuff on the shelves gone.  Even the condom rack was completely empty.  There was still a stack of newspapers sitting nicely piled by the cash register, frozen in time.  The front story featured some politicians debating over some shit that nobody really cared about.  There was no mention of the dead rising.  The whole thing had happened so fast, the newspapers never had a chance to print.
    Kyle and I moved to the rear of the store.  We hopped the counter, and rummaged through a bunch of tipped over boxes and pill containers.  Neither of us were educated enough to know what we were looking for, so we just grabbed everything that had a child safety lock on it and filled up a plastic bag that was sitting behind the register.  There wasn’t much left that had -cillin or -biotic on the labels.
    We were heading back towards the front door when we heard the gunshot, then another.
    We both ducked and hid by a magazine rack at the front of the store.  No telling which direction it came from or how close it was.  I looked beyond the D-cup boobs in the Hustler sitting next to my head, and towards where the Hummer was parked.  I had pulled the keys out of the ignition, not wanting Michael to drive off with it.  There was no movement.
    We sat there for several minutes; listening to the silence. Finally, I ventured to whisper, “Can you tell what kind of gun that is?”
    He gave a slight shake of his head and then motioned towards the Hummer.  Remaining in a crouch, we started to make our way toward it.  Nothing was in sight.  No movement.  No sound.  No nothing.  It was a little unnerving to know that the vehicle was bright yellow. It was like a giant blinking sign giving away our position. We slipped back into it and closed the doors as quietly as possible. The sound still seemed to echo between the buildings in the dead silence.
    Kyle threw the bag back into the rear seat; Michael grabbed it and was savvy enough to pull a bottle from our loot.
    “This will work,” he muttered while downing a couple pills and laying back down.  His face and arms were pale.  In his daze, he didn’t even hear the gun fire.  Kyle shot me a look that said he hoped

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