then gurgled on the floor. Blood spewed from the hole in her skull, a hole a little bigger than the gun’s handle. Brain particles floated down a red stream, stopping only when a column blocked their way.
Head between her knees, Stormy panted. “Why didn’t you just shoot her?”
“You fucking dirt bag asshole!” Stan yelled at the air that occupied the Cadillac’s former spot. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The gun passed over his face, blocking his eyes.
He sighed, looked at the woman, and then back at Stormy. “Out of bullets.”
He turned back toward the stairs. Tires locked up and screamed. Both of them jumped when they heard metal collide with concrete.
“Serves him fucking right,” Stan said. And he kept walking.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 30:19:12
Stan stomped halfway down the stairwell before turning to face Stormy. She knew his glare wasn’t for her, but that didn’t make it less imposing. “Where’s your car?” he asked.
“One more down. At the far end of the lot.”
He climbed the steps, mindful not to come too close as he passed her. The door closed behind him as he eyed something on the wall. Glass shattered. When he took the stairs a second time, a wooden handled ax dangled at his side.
Stormy freaked when she heard the blast. The force damn near knocked her down. The walls threatened to collapse. Concrete bits crumbed and fell down on her like tiny warning shots. They both looked up, but Stan hustled downstairs first. They didn’t slow down when they reached the landing.
“It’s the Jeep. Blue trim,” she yelled.
Eyes fixed on her vehicle, Stormy stayed the course when Stan cut across an aisle. He was between two cars when a cop, who had been dead a while, toppled him. They rolled over each other on the pavement. When they settled, Stan was on top and the fight was six feet from where it started, and where the ax remained. After wriggling free, the cop put Stan in a headlock. Stan jabbed his elbow into the cop’s ribs over and over again. He yanked on an ear, which fell off in his hand. He jammed his elbow into the cop’s gut again and the force knocked the air out of his chest. Undeterred, his teeth scratched against the top of Stan’s head.
“I’m fucking tired of this shit,” Stan said.
Stormy grabbed the ax and sprinted to him. “Move your legs.”
The ax sunk into the cop’s left leg seconds after Stan’s limbs cleared the area. After severing the limb, the ax scraped against the pavement, and it was on. Lashing out, the cop abandoned Stan to attack Stormy full force.
The ax rose high over Stormy’s shoulder. She made a wide sweeping motion across the cop’s neck, after which, a headless body collapsed onto a thoroughly pissed off Stan. He pushed the corpse off and checked that he was still intact. The severed head rolled until it bumped into the rear left tire of an old Ford. The car’s alarm went off. Seconds later, supers filed out of aisles and crawled around cars.
With Stan back on his feet, and in tow, Stormy sprinted the length of the aisle. She dug in her pocket for keys while Stan darted around the Jeep. He banged on the passenger side window while she fumbled. She dropped the keys once. They landed on the edge of a sewer grate. Stan looked around, tapped at the window, and then his eyes were back on her. She ignored him so he couldn’t unnerve her further.
The alarm blared, her fingers shook, and Stan yanked on his door handle. It took a few tries for the key to make contact with the lock. Eventually, it slid in and clinked as she forced it to the right. She flung her door open and unlocked Stan’s side so he would quit torturing the handle.
Stan locked the doors while she floored it in reverse. A faint glimpse of hope lay just beyond the hood. Stormy stalked it. The Jeep sailed over a series of speed bumps, and supers that became speed bumps, as it rounded the turns
Head between her knees, Stormy panted. “Why didn’t you just shoot her?”
“You fucking dirt bag asshole!” Stan yelled at the air that occupied the Cadillac’s former spot. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The gun passed over his face, blocking his eyes.
He sighed, looked at the woman, and then back at Stormy. “Out of bullets.”
He turned back toward the stairs. Tires locked up and screamed. Both of them jumped when they heard metal collide with concrete.
“Serves him fucking right,” Stan said. And he kept walking.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 30:19:12
Stan stomped halfway down the stairwell before turning to face Stormy. She knew his glare wasn’t for her, but that didn’t make it less imposing. “Where’s your car?” he asked.
“One more down. At the far end of the lot.”
He climbed the steps, mindful not to come too close as he passed her. The door closed behind him as he eyed something on the wall. Glass shattered. When he took the stairs a second time, a wooden handled ax dangled at his side.
Stormy freaked when she heard the blast. The force damn near knocked her down. The walls threatened to collapse. Concrete bits crumbed and fell down on her like tiny warning shots. They both looked up, but Stan hustled downstairs first. They didn’t slow down when they reached the landing.
“It’s the Jeep. Blue trim,” she yelled.
Eyes fixed on her vehicle, Stormy stayed the course when Stan cut across an aisle. He was between two cars when a cop, who had been dead a while, toppled him. They rolled over each other on the pavement. When they settled, Stan was on top and the fight was six feet from where it started, and where the ax remained. After wriggling free, the cop put Stan in a headlock. Stan jabbed his elbow into the cop’s ribs over and over again. He yanked on an ear, which fell off in his hand. He jammed his elbow into the cop’s gut again and the force knocked the air out of his chest. Undeterred, his teeth scratched against the top of Stan’s head.
“I’m fucking tired of this shit,” Stan said.
Stormy grabbed the ax and sprinted to him. “Move your legs.”
The ax sunk into the cop’s left leg seconds after Stan’s limbs cleared the area. After severing the limb, the ax scraped against the pavement, and it was on. Lashing out, the cop abandoned Stan to attack Stormy full force.
The ax rose high over Stormy’s shoulder. She made a wide sweeping motion across the cop’s neck, after which, a headless body collapsed onto a thoroughly pissed off Stan. He pushed the corpse off and checked that he was still intact. The severed head rolled until it bumped into the rear left tire of an old Ford. The car’s alarm went off. Seconds later, supers filed out of aisles and crawled around cars.
With Stan back on his feet, and in tow, Stormy sprinted the length of the aisle. She dug in her pocket for keys while Stan darted around the Jeep. He banged on the passenger side window while she fumbled. She dropped the keys once. They landed on the edge of a sewer grate. Stan looked around, tapped at the window, and then his eyes were back on her. She ignored him so he couldn’t unnerve her further.
The alarm blared, her fingers shook, and Stan yanked on his door handle. It took a few tries for the key to make contact with the lock. Eventually, it slid in and clinked as she forced it to the right. She flung her door open and unlocked Stan’s side so he would quit torturing the handle.
Stan locked the doors while she floored it in reverse. A faint glimpse of hope lay just beyond the hood. Stormy stalked it. The Jeep sailed over a series of speed bumps, and supers that became speed bumps, as it rounded the turns
Similar Books
