Rabid

“Any luck finding the keys?”

“I haven’t been back there yet.  You?”

“Nothing up front at the checkout.  Find anything else useful?”

“Not really.”

“Let’s go in the back and check -”

The thunderous roar began again.  Distant at first, and then growing louder by the second.  Taylor killed his flashlight and gestured for Carl to do the same.  Each sat down on one side of the aisle, backs against the cold metal shelving, and they watched as the mob passed by the front windows.

“Still running,” Carl said.  “I can’t believe it.  They must never get tired.  It’s almost like they’re doing laps.  The town isn’t that big is it?  It’s been how many hours since we saw them last?  If they’ve been running the whole time, what took them so long to make it back this way?”

“Don’t ask me.  Maybe they found something they were looking for along the way.  Maybe they stopped off at the local diner for some grub.”

They remained seated until the sound of the mob’s running feet had faded away completely.  Taylor stood up and re-shouldered the makeshift canvas bag.  “Let’s see if we can find those keys in the backroom and we’ll go figure things out from there.”

Carl had found a scabbard for the machete and had fastened it to his belt, looking like a modern-day swashbuckler with the machete sheathed along his left hip.

The backroom of Dave’s Hardware was roomier than the backroom of the women’s clothing store.  There were boxes stacked along the walls.  There was a bathroom and a small office.  There was only enough room in the office for a desk and a chair.  A corkboard hung above the desk, papered with invoices and Post-It notes.

Taylor checked the desk.  He rooted through the drawers and came up empty-handed.

“I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but for some reason I got my hopes up anyway.”

He put the canvas drop cloth down and opened it, handing several of the spray bottles to Carl.  “Let’s fill these up.  After that, we can fiddle with the Escort out back.  Worst case, we can’t figure out how to hotwire it and we have to leave some of this stuff behind.  I’m not going to be able to lug all this around very far once it’s filled with water.”

Taylor listened to the sound of water running in the bathroom sink as Carl filled the bottles.  All he had asked for was to find the car keys.  It was a small favor to ask, but for some reason God had chosen not to grant it.  All of it followed a certain pessimistic logic he had developed over the years.  If that continued, then they would be shit out of luck when it came to the Escort.  He knew that as surely as he had known they wouldn’t find the keys.

But once in a great while you got lucky.

“Finished,” Carl said.

“Lay them down on there.  As close to the center as possible.”

Carl arranged the filled bottles and gas canister on the canvas.  When he was finished, Taylor folded the edges over again.

Carl had his hand on the handle of the exit door.  He glanced back at Taylor before opening it.  “You ready?”

“Do it.”

Chapter 3 Mr. Sullivan and the Squirrel

A sound came from behind them.

Taylor instinctively dropped the sack, listening to the heavy thud and sloshing of water as the contents hit the floor.  In a flash, he was squatting down, grabbing for one of the spray bottles.

Carl had twisted around, unsheathed the machete and had it raised above his head.  He had nearly screamed.  When he saw what had made the noise he was thankful he hadn’t.

“Take me with you,” the girl said.  “If you’re leaving, please take me with you.”

One of her hands was up, shading her eyes from the beams of the flashlights.  She had something in her other hand and she held it out to them.  Taylor shined his flashlight on it.  Keys.  “That’s your car out back?”

The girl nodded.  She wasn’t crying now, but looked as though she had been recently.

“What are you doing here?”  Carl asked.

“This is my father’s store.  I go to the university and came home to visit for the weekend.  I got here and everyone had, well, you know…everyone had changed.  This is the only place I could think to go.”

“How long have you been here?”

“What time is it now?”

Taylor looked at his watch.  “Nine-thirty.”

“Almost seven hours.”  She pointed to a ladder leaning against the wall.  “I used that to climb into the ceiling.  There’s nothing up there but rafters and that insulation that looks like cotton candy.  It’s dusty and smells weird.  I listened to the two of you talking and realized you couldn’t be those…things.”

“You forgot to lock the back door,” Taylor said.  “That’s how we got in.  You’re lucky we’re the only ones that found our way in.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“But you remembered to lock your car doors?”

She showed him the black fob that dangled from her car keys.  “You use one of these things for a while, it becomes a habit.”

“So you come back to town, and all you find is a bunch of crazies,” Taylor said.  “What about your father?  Where’s he?”

The girl cast her eyes to the floor.

Dumb question, Taylor thought.

She shrugged.  “I thought he’d be here, but he wasn’t.  Do you think anyone is still normal?”

“I’m normal,” Taylor said.

“Some days,” Carl said.

“My brother is normal, and you look like you’re normal.  I imagine some people made it out of here.  Either that or they’re holed up in their houses doing the same thing we are.  Laying low so they don’t draw the attention of those crazy fucks.”

“Maybe they’re gone by now,” the girl said.

Carl shook his head.  “We just saw them run by a few minutes ago.  They run a lot.  Doesn’t seem like they ever get tired, either.”

Carl thought the girl was attractive.  Skinnier than he liked, but even through her blue jeans and tight sweater he could tell that she had an athletic build.  He wondered if she had ever been on the track team.  Strong shoulders, he thought.  Probably a swimmer.

Staring at the girl and seeing how vulnerable she looked standing there in front of them, and noticing that she had obviously been crying, made him think of Angie.  Alone somewhere - hopefully, locked up in the house - in a town that was mostly a carbon copy of this one.  He was disappointed in himself for spending so little time thinking of her safety.  Almost like he had forgotten about her.  He justified this by telling himself it was natural to put pain and worry from your mind in order to continue functioning; that Angie had been there in his brain all along, but that he had set those emotions aside temporarily while they searched for a safe place.

And he felt guilty for finding this girl attractive.

Taylor’s right.  Why the hell haven’t you proposed yet?  Because you figured you could take your own sweet time.  Now look.

Taylor said, “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you here, but are you sure about going with us?  I can’t guarantee it’s going to be any better.  We’re just trying to get home.”

“Where’s that?”