Sometimes We Ran (Book 1) by Stephen Drivick Page A

few minutes. My lips still tingled from Claire’s kiss. The girl could really knock ‘em dead. The last time I kissed a woman was my wife Gia about eight months ago. It was tempting to think about Claire in that way, but she was far too young.
    I stood up, grabbed another flashlight, and attempted to find Claire. The store was too dark and dangerous to be alone.
    “Claire! Where are you?” I called into the dank expanse of the store.
    There was no answer at first. After a few seconds, a thin voice came back at me from the darkness. “Over here. Bedding section.”
    I found her sitting on a mattress floor model. The sign said it was the “Comfort Star”, and that it was currently on sale. I walked over, and sat down heavily next to her. The “Comfort Star” lived up to its name. It was really soft and comfortable, but it smelled horrible.
    Claire didn’t look at me, but she began to speak. “I’m sorry, John. I think it was the wine cooler. I don’t know why I did that. Never could hold my alcohol. I thought I saw something.”
    “It’s okay, Claire.”
    “No, it’s not okay.” She turned to look at me. Her eyes were red from crying. “I always do this. My brain shuts off, my hormones take over, and I turn stupid. You must think I’m some kind of a slut.”
    “You’re not a slut. You’re not stupid either.”
    “Still doesn’t give me the right to try and make out with you.”
    I sighed. Claire was still so young, not much older than a teenager. I remember when I was like that. Full of emotions and hormones, I often didn’t make the right choices either. Add zombies and the end of the world to that and it could get a little overwhelming. I felt sorry for Claire. She had to go through all of this while it was still early in her life. It didn’t seem fair.
    I chose my next words carefully.
    “Actually, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it. You’re pretty easy on the eyes.” She looked up, and started to listen. “It’s just that I’m almost twenty years older than you. It wouldn’t feel right to me. Zombie apocalypse or not, I just don’t like dating women who are almost young enough to be my daughter. I think of you more like a friend or a buddy. We watch each other’s backs. You get what I mean?”
    Claire smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Yeah. You’re right. Of course you’re right.” She put her arm around me. “Friends. That sounds good.”
    “I guess we can chalk it up to the wine coolers, the dark store, and my rugged good looks. Right?” I was joking of course.
    Claire giggled a little. “Right. Still pretty embarrassing though. Can we never speak of it again?”
    “Right after I tell everyone I made out with a twenty-two-year-old college girl.”
    Claire stood up and punched me in the arm. “Very funny, John.”
    I rubbed my arm where she hit me. The girl could pack a punch too. “Now, let’s get back to the campsite. It’s dark and scary over here, and this mattress smells like boiled ass.”
    “Okay.” We stood up, walked over to our campsite, and continued our evening. A few hours later we both fell into a deep sleep to end our day. Another day of being alive.

Chapter 12
A Short Rest Before the Horror
    I smelled pancakes. Why did I smell pancakes?
    Slowly, I opened my eyes and tried to focus. The long night on the cold concrete floor had done wonders for my aging joints and back. Everything was hurting, including my head. The multiple beers the night before were not a great idea either.
    Claire, the morning person, decided I had slept long enough. “Time for pancakes,” she said, as she shoved a paper plate with what kind of looked like pancakes under my nose.
    It appeared that Claire had put our kiss last night behind her. Another great thing about her: she was very adaptable. “How in the hell did you make pancakes?” I asked, taking a bite. The pancakes were a little misshapen and doughy, but they were actually pretty good.
    “I worked