The Adventures of Steve and Terry: The Zombie Chronicles by Mark de Jong Page A

his pent house. When his building had been overrun
he had fled, leaving his neighbors to die. Late at night he could still hear
their screams.
    Dave turned as someone put their
arm around his waist to see Jill. Jill was not someone he would have been
interested in before the epidemic. She was a working class girl, with short
dark hair and a hard, toned body. Dave had always been into blonds with soft
curves and giant, well, you get it. He looked over his shoulder to check on
Paul, a ten year old boy who was not biologically his. The apocalypse had a way
of bringing people together with nothing in common, except for having survived.
    Dave had found Jill cornered by
three undead. He had been about to run on, leaving her to die, as he had so
many others. But just as he had started to go, they had made eye contact. He
couldn’t look away, and had done something, for no personal gain, for the first
time in his life. The two had gotten away, just two more refugees in a city of
undead. They had found Paul almost two weeks later, wandering the streets
alone. He didn’t say a word when they saved him, and to date still hadn’t said
even one. They didn’t even know his name, but Jill liked Paul, and the boy
responded to it. So here they were, one effed up little post-apocalyptic
family.
    They had been on the move for days
now. Their small base had been overrun and they had barely escaped with their
lives, but not much else. Dave had gotten his gun, but less than fifty rounds
of ammo. They had no food, not water, and only the clothes on their backs. Food
and water didn’t concern Dave so much as the ammo situation. He had decided to
take it one day at a time, and not plan on a long, safe life. His only concern
at this point was getting Jill and Paul to safety.
    Dave and Jill didn’t say anything,
just stood arm in arm looking out at the dark city. Both jumped as an explosion
suddenly rocked the night. A gout of flame lit up a nearby street. In the light
of the blast they could see two figures hacking at the undead with some sort of
cold weapons. The fire blast soon faded, but they saw quick flashes as the two
men fired guns into a horde of undead.
    “Do you think they’re gonna make
it?” Jill asked.
    “Doubtful,” Dave answered
honestly. Jill blew out a frustrated breath. “What?” Dave asked.
    “For once could you just . . .”
    “Just what?”
    “Lie to me,” Jill said, putting
her head on his shoulder.
    Dave turned and pulled her into
his arms. “I’m sorry. This whole thing has turned me into a bit of an asshole.”
    Jill laughed sadly into his chest.
“You think?”
    “We should get some sleep.”
    Another explosion lit up the
night, the same two figures illuminated again. “If we can,” Jill said.
    The next morning they were all up
with the sun. They cautiously made their way back down to the street. As they
skulked through the streets they came to scattered dead with burn marks
covering their bodies. The street had craters in it and shrapnel marks covered
the walls of the buildings.
    “Hey,” Jill said. “Isn’t this where
we were seeing those explosions last night?”
    “I think so.”
    “I don’t see any bodies. Maybe
they made it.”
    Dave thought it more likely the
men were killed, and now were wandering the city as undead themselves. But he
didn’t tell Jill that. “Yeah, maybe,” he said.
    They continued on, but Paul
suddenly stopped. The boy was like a hunting hound when it came to sensing
zombies. He had almost a sixth sense about it. Both Jill and Dave started to
look around, Dave chambering a round in his gun. Suddenly a walker rounded a
corner. Without thinking Dave shot the thing. It took three shots to finally hit
it in the head. Almost immediately they heard moans of the undead, sounding
like they were coming from everywhere.
    “Shit!” Dave swore. “Let’s go!” He
grabbed Jill’s hand, who in turn grabbed Paul’s.
    They fled through the streets, but
Dave was unfamiliar with