(Howdy gang. This is another piece of short Points in Case fiction, or as I like to call it "PICtion." I hope you like it. Actually, I just hope you read it. Enjoy. You're the best — kc)
Part 1 of 2
Running away implies I once had a place to call home. I guess my old cross country coach, Coach, would say my home is on the road, but I never liked running in the first place. Now, it's a living.
Even though Coach probably croaked by now, I do what Coach recommended. I think of a phrase over and over until I come up with a new one. Right now, it's "Shelly wasn't the one for me." If I repeat it enough times, maybe I'll finally think it's true.
I wonder where she is now.
But for now, there are others wondering where and when I'll stop running. So I need to keep going.
I make a wild turn and go for the stairs. Those who trail behind me stumble as they attempt to keep up. The pants and moans always get closer, then much farther away. Man, some of these runners really stink.
After all the penalty laps Coach gave me in my high school sports days, there's nobody alive in this city who can run stairs better than me. That was a long time ago. And even though everybody said high school sports would be the best time of my life, I never believed them. Boy, was I wrong. Who knew how much the world would suck after school sports ended?
Okay, I'll start a new mantra. "The best days of my life are ahead of me. The best days of my life are ahead of me."
Shelly will have to take the backseat. Well, another one.
I could really use some new shoes. I wonder if anybody will pick some up for me after this run. A box of granola bars would be nice too. I'll put the call in.
"How much longer?" I ask into the headset. I'm not happy with the answer. At least twenty more minutes. The blisters forming on my feet don't feel great, and neither do the straps on the backpack I'm carrying. My side is cramping, but I don't get the chance to rest. And no chance of a granola bar or shoes? I didn't think these people could get any less grateful.
I follow my usual path. More followers drop out, which is what this route is supposed to do. Once I get to the railroad bridge over the river, I'll create an artificial bottleneck. Some will give up, others will fall and a few may get up again.
I don't hate the runners, but I certainly don't like them. In some ways, they're fairly admirable. Following me, even though somewhere they must understand the likelihood of them catching me is impossible. I just wish my run was over. And there was somebody to run home to.
I wonder if Shelly would wait for me at home. Or what she's up to right now. I remember all the times we used to run together. She was always a little bit better than me. But I'm the bigger man now.
Geez. That was a little close for comfort. I don't think I want them getting any closer than that.
And that's what Coach was talking about. Losing focus. That's why I always sucked. In sports and with Shelly. And I've seriously got to stop thinking about her. It almost got me killed.
There's fucking zombie cannibal mania behind me and here I am thinking about my ex-girlfriend.
I don't know how it happened. I guess I just wasn't really paying attention, it got out of hand. One minute, things are okay, then a little rocky and finally all Hell is breaking loose. The breakup and the outbreak.
The worst of both situations is, I don't know where she is. And where the shit are my tribe-mates? I've been out here for almost 90 minutes. That's about eleven and a half miles. I don't know if I have fifteen more minutes in me. My sides stab and my legs cramp. Especially since all I've eaten today is baked beans from a can and peanut butter straight out of the jar. And I am starting to feel a very liquid shit forming.
The frikkin' scavengers are supposed to be able to be in and out of these places in less than an hour. They get to run around abandoned shopping centers picking up goodies while I'm out here flaring up my shin splints and carrying around some beacon that attracts the undead. I swear, the scientist who cooked up this beacon deserves to be tossed outside the bunker and served up as an appetizer. I didn't sign up to be a moving target full of zombie catnip.
I wonder if tigers like catnip. I'd like to see a tiger get all nipped out and play with a ball of yarn. Then maybe, rip Shelly's face off or something.
I didn't mean that. Just like I didn't mean to start that huge fight with her neighbor because he'd never pick up his dog shit. I'm just saying, I don't like coming to my girlfriend's house and walking through a minefield of turds. It's gross and dangerous. You don't know what kind of diseases are hanging out in dog shit.
But 10 more minutes. I don't know if I can physically do that.
Just like Shelly. Always asking for more time, more energy, more something that I'm not sure if I can do. I hope she survived. Maybe she'll see me sometime as I run through the city. Or maybe some other dipshit can build up the endurance to get his ass moving for longer than thirty minutes.
It's not that hard to learn. I run through the park. The wide open spaces make the zombies easier to see. Then after I've attracted them I hit the forest to lose them. The undead seem to get caught in every bush, gopher-hole and vine available.
Once a good amount of rotting ex-humans is disposed of, I cruise out of the wilderness and clomp through a building that was once under construction. I let them follow me through the narrow walkways, and they do the hard work for me. In order to get to the front, zombies claw and grab at each other, like a bunch of drowning idiots trying to keep their heads above water.
This route just causes most of them to fall to their deaths. Or second deaths in those cases. Some zombies break their legs, which doesn't stop them from trying to chase me, but definitely makes them easier to dodge. Unless I need to jump over them while getting hounded. But a few years of high school hurdles helped me out with leaping over objects. Zombies are usually too surprised to hit me when they see me running at them rather than away from them.
Whoa. Just about ran right into that pothole. I need to pay more attention. What would Coach say?
"From now on, when I'm running away from zombies, I'll pay more attention."
I wonder if Shelly is running for another tribe?
Come on man, focus!
"From now on, when I'm running away from zombies…"
(Are you liking the new short fiction/semi-true stuff? Or not? Give me your comments good and bad.)