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

systems. She stepped through the doorway and into the hall.
The towel she had tossed out there earlier became tangled with her left foot.
Leaning against the wall, she shook herself free from the damp linen.
    Before turning into the kitchen and living area, she glanced
down the hallway toward Carla’s room. Soft light filtered through the opening
at the bottom of the closed door. She considered barricading it, but decided against
doing so. Once she had the door in sight, she made a line straight for it. As
she reached for the handle, she stopped. She had no provisions for her journey.
While there was little in the apartment, anything available could provide
helpful. Despite the urge inside of her to leave, Addison backtracked to the
kitchen and raided the pantry and refrigerator for anything she could find.
    In the end, she stuffed four pouches of dried noodles, a
half-dozen bottles of water, three light beers, an opened package of crackers
and some salami into her bag. She’d have to eat the deli meat first, which
meant as soon as she left the apartment. Addison was starving, having gone
almost a day without eating. The rest, she figured, would last her a couple
days at most.
    Satisfied she had everything she needed, Addison left the
kitchen and headed toward the front door.
    “Where are you going?”
    She looked to her left and saw Carla standing behind the
couch, her shape silhouetted by the diffused reflection of light on the television.
    “I have to go get you medicine,” she replied.
    “Why do you have all that stuff?”
    Addison hesitated, and in those few moments Carla’s
expression changed from confused to angry. Her roommate went to speak, but the
only sound that came out was a deep grunt. A few seconds later, the couch
tipped over and Carla climbed over it. Her eyes were bright. Her mouth hung
open. She reached out with both arms. Her fingers contorted into hooks.
    Addison dropped the duffel bag and backed up. She reached
inside the leather messenger and pulled out a bottle of beer. She held it by
the neck. Carla kept coming toward her, grunting and baring her teeth.
    “Get back,” Addison shouted.
    Carla ignored her. The woman walked right into the kitchen
table, refusing to allow it to stop her. She kept shuffling her feet, pushing
the table an inch at a time. The entire time her eyes remained focused on
Addison while the fingers at the end of her outstretched arms snapped like a
crab’s pincers.
    Addison backed up until she felt the kitchen island. She
retreated behind the six-by-three foot structure.
    “Go to your room, Carla.”
    Carla kept pushing forward, her waist pressed tight to the
table, moving it inch by inch.
    Addison cocked her arm back and then flung the beer bottle
in Carla’s direction. Having been an all-district short stop for her high
school softball team, Addison had tremendous aim. It did not fail her. The
bottle hit Carla in the middle of the forehead, causing further damage to the
cut already there. The woman fell back and dropped to one knee. Addison
realized her mistake when, instead of getting up, Carla dropped to all fours
and crawled under the kitchen table.
    Addison waited until she couldn’t see her roommate and then
bolted for the front door. It seemed like it took minutes to cross the short
distance. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carla change course. The woman
lunged for her, grabbing a hold of Addison’s ankle. She dropped the messenger
bag in an effort to break her fall. It worked, to a point. The impact of landing
on her abdomen knocked the wind out of her.
    Carla’s damp, cold hands worked their way up Addison’s back
and arms.
    “Get off me,” she said in a hollow voice. Moments later, air
rushed into her lungs. She gasped it in, yelled and forced herself to turn over,
sending Carla sprawling to the side. Addison pushed her back off the floor and
scooted toward the door while in a sitting position. As she pressed into the
door, she realized she’d