Voodoo Plague - 01 by Dirk Patton Page B

skillet was one of the best I’d ever smelled.
    Giving
everything a stir I searched some more cabinets and found a couple loaves of
sourdough bread.  Cutting the tops off each loaf I hollowed out the insides and
put each on a plate, the bread from inside the loaves on the side.  Each one
made a perfect bread bowl.
    The shower had
been off for a few minutes and I was about to go looking for Rachel when she
walked into the kitchen.
    “That smells
fantastic,” She said, coming over to the stove to look in the skillet.  Rachel
had found clean clothes in the master bedroom closet that almost fit.  She had
on a pair of cotton shorts that were short enough to not leave much to the
imagination and a thin T Shirt that was stretched almost impossibly tight over
her breasts.
    “And it’s
ready.  Hope you’re hungry,” I answered, trying to keep my eyes from drifting
to the hard nipples stressing the thin fabric of the shirt or the long legs
left bare by the short shorts.
    I scooped
generous portions of the skillet contents, I didn’t even have a name for it,
into the bread bowls and carried them to the table while Rachel found water
glasses and filled them at the sink for us.  A quick search of drawers yielded
a couple of spoons and we settled down at the table.
    The kitchen was almost
dark due to the heavy clouds outside and the closed blinds at all the windows,
but I didn’t care to show a light that might be seen by either survivors or
infected.  We both dug in, too hungry to spend any time talking.  From across
the room Dog watched us, his chin on his front paws.  When my food was half
gone I was able to slow myself down and enjoy eating the meal.
    “So I was
thinking about why those infected showed up at the park when we stopped this
afternoon,” I said, then shoveled another spoonful into my mouth.
    Rachel paused
with a spoon half way to her mouth and looked at me with raised eyebrows.  I
chewed, swallowed and continued.
    “I think it was
the sound of the truck idling.  I think mechanical sounds are going to draw
these things like a moth to a flame.  I’ve got to find a switch I can wire into
the truck so we can shut it off and start it easily when we stop.”
    “How many of
them do you think are out there?” Rachel asked, getting up to refill our water.
    I thought for a
minute before answering, “I don’t have a clue.  So far we’ve seen far more
infected than we have survivors.  I’m shocked the nerve gas was so effective
and spread so fast.  Based on what we’ve seen so far it seems like most of the
population has been infected.”
    That thought hit
both of us like a slap in the face.  Suddenly my food didn’t taste good anymore
and I put the remains on the floor for Dog who gladly polished it off for me. 
When he was done I picked the plate up and washed it in the sink.  Not that it
mattered, but old habits die hard.
    I made another
tour of the house, checking windows and doors to make sure we were secure.  The
worst of the storm had passed, but it was still raining and now completely dark
outside.  I put a piece of duct tape over my flashlight lens and poked a small
hole in it so only a tiny beam of light could make it out.
    Using the muted
flashlight I carefully covered the master bedroom windows with blankets, taping
the edges to the wall with more duct tape to prevent any light from escaping. 
The battery powered LED lantern I had looted had a night light setting and I
turned it on in the bedroom for Rachel then went to the living room and covered
those windows as well, taping the blankets as I had in the master bedroom.  I’d
be sleeping on the couch tonight.  There was only one bed in the house and I’d
already decided to give it to Rachel.
    Next I retrieved
a 12 gauge shotgun I’d found in the outfitter store vault and showed Rachel how
to load it, rack the slide and where the safety button was.  After having her
rack a few shells through the gun and reload it she was about