Page 1 of Making Haven
Chapter One
Devin
“Welcome to Jillian Bay,the city of lakes,” I read to myself, passing a giant green sign. I keep to the sidewalk, scanning the area as I go.
The sun is still out, making me feel just a little bit safer as I make my way into the town. It’s a little place, the sign claiming it was a town filled with 10k people. Well, that manybeforethe whole world went to shit in a handbag.
On my left, there’s a large lake half surrounded by forest on the far side. I’m sure it’s just one of many lakes I’ll find in this town, based on that slogan. Before all of this, I would have entertained the thought of taking a dip. Now? Not so much. I’d rather not freeze my nuts off before something found me with my pants down. No, thanks. I’d rather bathe in places that are a bit more open, where I can see someone coming towards me from a distance so I have time to get my shit back on and my weapon ready.
I hurry my steps, wanting to be on the other side of this town before the sun starts to set. In my experience, zombies are always faster and nastier at night. Something about the sunseems to fuck with them, making their senses muted. They’re sluggish and distracted in the bright light. I’m not sure if it’s the light or the UV rays, but either way, the best time to hit a town is during the day.
That’s without thinking about whatelsecomes out during the dark hours.
I run my fingers through my hair. It’s getting quite long. Maybe if I can find some proper scissors in one of these houses, I’ll give myself a haircut. It’s been a while. I had to toss the last pair I had because they were starting to rust and I amnotdealing with tetanus on top of everything else. I could always try with my hunting knife but I have a feeling that would only lead to me shaving my entire head and as much as I don’t care about how I look, it’ll leave me feeling cold at night.
Shuffling behind me makes me look over my shoulder. My hand goes to my sword because yes, I carry a sword with me. I had a huge collection before all of this in my little apartment. Most of them were just for display but a few of them I always made sure were sharp enough to cut through random shit, like fruit. This particular one is namedBethany. It was an inside joke between me and my sister. Bethany has gotten me out of more than one sticky situation. She cuts down zombies like butter.
Looking around, I let out a sigh of relief, finding only a bird darting from the ground up onto a tree branch. This is probably morbid as fuck, but the sight makes my stomach grumble as I think about Thanksgiving dinner. It’s been so long since I’ve had a hot, meaty meal. Instead of debating on how best to fight a bird for dinner, I keep moving forward.
The first building I come across is a gas station. Of course it looks completely looted already. Most major places like this were the first places that people went, getting as much gas and supplies as they could. I don’t even stop and check it out, especially not when I see movement coming from inside. Mostzombies bunker down in buildings or in the woods, keeping themselves to the shade during the day.
Ahead of me is an apartment complex. That looks promising. Maybe I’ll even lock myself inside and sleep in a bed tonight. It’s beenmonthssince I’ve laid in a bed. I usually just find a really sturdy tree and tie myself onto the branch to sleep. Zombies can’t climb and if there’s anyone else in the woods, well, if they really want me they’re gonna get me even if I’m not strapped to a branch.
The apartment complex has two stories. My instincts are telling me to hit the second floor. There are balconies attached to each apartment. Looking around and finding no suspicious noises or movements, I toss my backpack up onto the balcony before me. Then I toss up my sword. With nothing restricting my movements, I start to shimmy up the wood that holds up the balcony, climbing up. Thank Christ I’ve always been strong and the whole end of the world thing has kept me in shape. By the time I’m hauling my ass over the ledge and onto the balcony, I’ve worked up a sweat, my breathing coming out in harsh pants.
I quickly get my backpack and sword back onto my back before stepping over to the door. It’s a sliding door which means I should easily be able to see if there’s anyone or any zombies inside. I put my hands against the window, looking inside. Everything seems quiet and I take a chance, turning the handle and to my utter delighted surprise, the door slides open. This feels too good to be true.
At the very least, this must mean that things have been looted already, right?
As quietly as I can, I step into the apartment. I pull my sword from my back, having it ready, just in case. My heart speeds up. I hear nothing. I’m in a little living room area, straight in front of me is a kitchen. To my right is three doors and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s two bedrooms and a bathroom. Everythinglooks so achinglynormal. Like I’ve stepped into the past and any moment a mom and her two kids are going to step into the room, ready to watch a movie together.
It makes me ache and I grit my teeth. The world didn’t have to be like this. Itshouldn’tbe like this, damnit. But who am I to say that, I’m a fucking no one in the grand scheme of things. Just an average Joe who’s stuck in a world corrupted by people in power playing with things they had no right to play with. Or at least, that’s what the rumors are.
It’s not like we’ll ever know the truth. Only what the officials funneled to us when using the emergency broadcast channels at the beginning of the outbreak.
I step over to the three doors, pressing my ears to them, trying to listen for even the softest sounds. I gently knock on each door, waiting for some sort of reaction from the other side. Finally, I decide it’s safe enough to open the doors. The entire apartment is blissfully empty.
I quickly get to work, rummaging through dressers and cabinets. Pulling my backpack from my back, I take out my clothes. They’re old and raggedy and dirty. I’ve hit the literal jackpot because whoever lived here before was close enough to my size. I carefully fold a few new shirts, a pair of jeans, and two sweaters as small as I can before stuffing them into my bag.
In the bathroom I find bandages, alcohol, soap, toothpaste and a whole pack of new toothbrushes. There’s also toilet paper, some meds, towels, a little sewing kit that includes a needle and thread. Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been this lucky. Are all the apartments like this? Have people really been overlooking this place for the past two years?
Taking a new washcloth and the soap, I clean myself as best as I can with what little water I have. I’m not fully clean like I would be if I took a dunk in a nearby lake but I can at least wipe over my pits and face and groin. There’s even some deodorant here andI swipe it over my pits, smiling to myself when I smell that over the usual smell of myself. I feel like a brand new man. Now if I could just cure the ache in my belly.
Moving to the kitchen, I rummage through the cupboards. I stuff can after can into my pack, followed by a little handheld can opener. That’ll be nicer than using my knife when I’m back to traveling. There’s beans and corn and soup and tuna. Holy shit, I’ll be set for a while! If this wasn’t the end of the world as I know it, I’d feel lucky enough to stop at a gas station for a lottery ticket.
I pull a can of tomato soup from the cupboard, using its tab to pop it open. When I was younger, one of my most cherished meals was my mom making me tomato soup with grilled cheese. If only I had a fire to heat this with, but alas, drinking it cold will have to do.
As I sip my can of soup, I walk through the apartment, taking in the pictures on the walls. I stop at a wedding photo featuring a handsome man with a trimmed beard and a woman with long black hair. They look happy. It makes me miss the way things were before. Things were so easy. If someone was in love, they moved in, got married, popped out a few kids. Anyone could have the apple pie life.
Now? People are lucky to find other people who aren’t massive dickheads who’re trying to kill you for your shoes.
Before this shit show, I used to manage a pizza shop and occasionally did pizza deliveries. I got free pizza every weekend, got to visit my favorite customers, and drive around town without a care in the world. Then I’d spend my free time in my shoebox apartment playing video games and talking to my friends online. I was living the dream!
How did some nerd like me manage to survive this long? Spite and dumb luck.
I toss my can into the sink once the soup is all gone. My body feels warm, my stomach full. My plan was to be on the otherside of this city before the sun went down but as I gaze out the window at the setting sun, I can’t find it in myself to move on quite yet. There’s a chance that there’s more supplies to be found in this apartment complex and it would be dumb not to at least check it out.
I triple check that the front door and the sliding door are secure before moving the couch in front of the sliding door, then moving the fridge in front of the front door. No one is getting in here. Not without me hearing it at the very least.
