motion and raised his right arm. A shape moved out of the shadows next to
him, he could see it in the corner of his eye. It was human and it had a very big gun.
“Now it's not nice to enter someone's house without even knockin’. In fact, it
damn right pisses me off,” a creaky voice said. It was female and its crackle
made it sound elderly.
Sarah walked into the house at this moment, standing directly behind Mark and she
raised her hands in the air like she'd always seen on police documentaries.
“We mean you no harm, ma’am,” Mark said in his kindest voice, dropping the
crowbar he'd been carrying. “We thought it was empty and just wanted some
shelter for the night. We're sorry to have intruded.”
“Well you have just found out for yourself that it is not empty. You are
now trespassin’ in my home and I am well within my rights to shoot you both in
the ass if you don’t tell me what you’re up to,” the old lady said. “And don’t
call me ma’am.”
“We’re trying to get to Solitude. We got lost in the woods so we’re looking for
somewhere to stay. Its dark out and the infected are everywhere, haven’t you
noticed?” Sarah said, nervously.
“Yes, I damn well have noticed, Miss Smart-Ass, do you think I'm stupid
as well as old? They killed my cattle. I had to shoot my own husband! So don't
ask me stupid questions,” the woman interrupted in a shrill voice.
Sarah and Mark went silent. Mark backed away a little, staring into the barrel
of the gun as he did, feeling pretty sure he was going to get shot.
The lady lowered her gun from Mark's face and walked out of view. There was a
hiss and then a small, orange light flickered into life across the room. She
picked up the lantern and laid the shotgun on the kitchen counter.
Sarah and Mark sighed quietly with relief. Mark's shoulders dropped back down
and they lowered their hands, still unsure whether to speak.
In the dim lantern light, they could just see the person carrying it — she was
smaller than Sarah was and very thin. Her hair was grey and tied back in a bun,
a few ringlets flowing around her face. She looked a lot younger than she
sounded, with only a few age lines around her eyes and forehead, which were only
deepened by her current frowning. They guessed she was around her early sixties
and she wore muddy dungarees over a chequered shirt, it was hard to tell what
colour in the orange light, but Mark thought it was red. She had a cigarette in
her mouth and the smoke rose into the air in front of her face, curling and
swaying in the breeze. She stared at them, looking slightly pissed off.
“You have a lovely home,” Sarah commented feebly, glancing
around the room.
They stood in a small kitchen that had tiled floors and pine counters with an
old-style gas cooker and shelves covered in vases and knick-knacks. Most of the
pots were broken, the curtains were torn down, and all the windows boarded up
with what seemed to be parts of the dining table and inner doors.
“Thank you. It was a lovely home. Now it’s
a shit tip,” the woman hissed, moodily.
She walked towards Mark and looked him up and down
slowly, blowing cigarette smoke into the air. Her forehead lines finally reduced
and the distrusting expression left her face. “Well,” she said, facing them
both and taking the cigarette out of her mouth, “you're not infected that's for
sure. You wouldn't be so coherent...lucky you, I woulda shot you both dead if I
thought otherwise.”
Sarah and Mark looked at each other wide-eyed and stayed silent, as neither
wanted to ruin her better spirit.
“So, you've made a break for it have you?” The woman continued, “Can't think of
why anyone would walk this far out of town in this mess. Why you need to get to
Solitude so badly, anyway?”
“I — I'm looking for my family and my boyfriend,” Sarah said, her voice
breaking slightly. “They’re in Solitude, I think. We thought this was the only
safe way through… not
him, he could see it in the corner of his eye. It was human and it had a very big gun.
“Now it's not nice to enter someone's house without even knockin’. In fact, it
damn right pisses me off,” a creaky voice said. It was female and its crackle
made it sound elderly.
Sarah walked into the house at this moment, standing directly behind Mark and she
raised her hands in the air like she'd always seen on police documentaries.
“We mean you no harm, ma’am,” Mark said in his kindest voice, dropping the
crowbar he'd been carrying. “We thought it was empty and just wanted some
shelter for the night. We're sorry to have intruded.”
“Well you have just found out for yourself that it is not empty. You are
now trespassin’ in my home and I am well within my rights to shoot you both in
the ass if you don’t tell me what you’re up to,” the old lady said. “And don’t
call me ma’am.”
“We’re trying to get to Solitude. We got lost in the woods so we’re looking for
somewhere to stay. Its dark out and the infected are everywhere, haven’t you
noticed?” Sarah said, nervously.
“Yes, I damn well have noticed, Miss Smart-Ass, do you think I'm stupid
as well as old? They killed my cattle. I had to shoot my own husband! So don't
ask me stupid questions,” the woman interrupted in a shrill voice.
Sarah and Mark went silent. Mark backed away a little, staring into the barrel
of the gun as he did, feeling pretty sure he was going to get shot.
The lady lowered her gun from Mark's face and walked out of view. There was a
hiss and then a small, orange light flickered into life across the room. She
picked up the lantern and laid the shotgun on the kitchen counter.
Sarah and Mark sighed quietly with relief. Mark's shoulders dropped back down
and they lowered their hands, still unsure whether to speak.
In the dim lantern light, they could just see the person carrying it — she was
smaller than Sarah was and very thin. Her hair was grey and tied back in a bun,
a few ringlets flowing around her face. She looked a lot younger than she
sounded, with only a few age lines around her eyes and forehead, which were only
deepened by her current frowning. They guessed she was around her early sixties
and she wore muddy dungarees over a chequered shirt, it was hard to tell what
colour in the orange light, but Mark thought it was red. She had a cigarette in
her mouth and the smoke rose into the air in front of her face, curling and
swaying in the breeze. She stared at them, looking slightly pissed off.
“You have a lovely home,” Sarah commented feebly, glancing
around the room.
They stood in a small kitchen that had tiled floors and pine counters with an
old-style gas cooker and shelves covered in vases and knick-knacks. Most of the
pots were broken, the curtains were torn down, and all the windows boarded up
with what seemed to be parts of the dining table and inner doors.
“Thank you. It was a lovely home. Now it’s
a shit tip,” the woman hissed, moodily.
She walked towards Mark and looked him up and down
slowly, blowing cigarette smoke into the air. Her forehead lines finally reduced
and the distrusting expression left her face. “Well,” she said, facing them
both and taking the cigarette out of her mouth, “you're not infected that's for
sure. You wouldn't be so coherent...lucky you, I woulda shot you both dead if I
thought otherwise.”
Sarah and Mark looked at each other wide-eyed and stayed silent, as neither
wanted to ruin her better spirit.
“So, you've made a break for it have you?” The woman continued, “Can't think of
why anyone would walk this far out of town in this mess. Why you need to get to
Solitude so badly, anyway?”
“I — I'm looking for my family and my boyfriend,” Sarah said, her voice
breaking slightly. “They’re in Solitude, I think. We thought this was the only
safe way through… not
Similar Books
