Affliction Z: Abandoned Hope (Post Apocalyptic Thriller) by L.T. Ryan

position.
    Addison stood three feet from the bed, where, on the corner
she’d set the pistol. She glanced at it, and then looked back up. Carla had
followed her gaze and stared at the weapon. Her lips trembled as they opened
and closed. Finally, she formed a distinct word.
    “Why?”
    Addison shook her head. Tears began to collect along her
bottom eyelids. She held up both hands in a calming gesture. “I don’t know,
Carla. I don’t. But I’ll help you. Okay? We’ll find a treatment. We’ll get you
fixed.”
    She took a step forward. This resulted in a change in
Carla’s posture. The woman went from slightly stooped and submissive to rigid
and poised to attack.
    “I just want to help you,” Addison said as she froze in
place.
    Her words seemed to settle Carla, for the moment at least.
Addison took another step forward. Using her leg as a guide while maintaining
eye contact with Carla, she shuffled along until her skin brushed the corner of
her bed. Along the outer edge of her vision, she made out the shape of the handgun.
One swoop of her arm and she could have it in her possession. Surely, she could
retrieve the weapon, aim it and fire before Carla made it to her.
    Eight feet versus eighteen inches, round trip, and a few
actions which she’d never performed without the aid of a game controller.
    She opted for a different approach.
    “Carla,” she said. “Why don’t you go lay down in your bed?
I’ll be right in with some medicine after I get changed.”
    Carla said nothing. She didn’t try to say anything. She
stood there, slack jawed, staring at Addison. The woman’s fingers twitched,
causing them to tap against her upper thighs. The intensity of her stare did
not decrease, although the odd brightness seemed to fade.
    “Carla?” Addison said, letting her right hand fall. She
didn’t care if her towel fell open. If anything, her nudity might be enough of
a shock to her roommate to allow Addison a few extra precious seconds to line
up her shot.
    “Okay, Addy,” Carla said, slowly and deeply.
    Addison stopped breathing as she watched the woman turn in
place and leave her room. The floor where Carla had stood was wet.
    Had she urinated while standing there?
    Addison grabbed the pistol off the bed. Then she pulled off
her towel and threw it toward the doorway. It landed a foot past the spot, in
the hallway. She dressed and put on her boots, leaving them untied. They fit
perfectly. A good thing, because there might be a lot of walking in her future.
    Her mind raced. What would she do? Where would she go? How
would she get there?
    Before she could answer any of those questions, she had to
prepare. Addison reached into her closet and pulled out a duffel bag, which she
filled with socks, underwear, shirts and pants. Unsure where she was going, she
grabbed a North Face thermal jacket, rolled it up, and stuffed it inside the
bag. It would be cold eventually. In fact, the nights had already started to
dip into the fifties. The jacket would be perfect in both fall and winter.
    She carried the bag into the bathroom and stuffed her
toiletries in one of the side pockets. The messenger bag sat on the toilet. She
grabbed it and slung it over her shoulder, ensuring quick access to the pistol
it housed. In her left hand, she carried the duffel bag. In her right, she held
the other pistol. She believed she had it ready to fire. She’d done everything
to the weapon that she’d ever seen performed in an action film.
    How hard could it be?
    She exited the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and
then she rounded her bed. The room looked undisturbed, although it did smell
foul. The urine on the carpet could be part of the reason, but it smelled worse
than any pee she’d ever been around.
    Addison came to a stop at the doorway. She spread her feet
wide, making sure not to step in the puddle. The sound of the fan was the only
thing she heard, rhythmically cycling around and around. No coughing, no
television, no game