Word Count: 692
We came trundling up to a gas station that looked thoroughly abandoned, or like it was hiding something. Joe asked if we could find another one, but Rayn shook his head. I glanced over at the gas meter and he was right – we’d never find another station before the car gave up on us.
“It’s fine, you two stay in the car, I’ll go get us some gas,” I muttered, slamming the door shut behind me before either of them could say anything. Lights flickered on and off inside the shop and I could see this shuffling figure in there through the window. Knife in one hand, gun in the other. Deep breath. There couldn’t be many, no point using my gun, really, but I kept it out just in case. Shooting that one through the window would break the glass and make a noise anyway. I wanted to stay as quiet as possible.
The bell over the door dinged loudly as I crept inside. Mentally, I cursed it, watching the zombie turn slowly to face me. The thing realized it had live company; it twitched and suddenly became incredibly animated. It rushed towards me snapping its jaw hungrily and making these horrible growling noises. I didn’t have much time to move – I’d aimed to stab it in the head but it was going too fast and I missed.
Its eye caught the tip of the knife and ran itself into the blade before realizing what it had done. Rotten blood dripped down the knife towards my hand as it trembled, finally dying, half held off the floor by the fact I was still holding my knife.
I pulled the knife back, trying to ignore the little bits of brain caught on the serrated side. A quick search revealed a couple more bodies, already shot clean in the head and slumped behind the counter. There were plenty of those plastic gas cans, so I grabbed a load of them and took them to the pumps outside, gesturing for the other two to help me. Rayn rolled the car onto the forecourt and got out, grabbing a couple of cans and skipping off to another pump.
“What kind do I get?” Joe asked, looking a little lost with a can in each hand as he looked at the pumps with a frown.
“Just get gas,” I shrugged. He still looked lost. “The one on the left.” With a nod, he set off to fill up at the pump on the opposite side of the station to me.
When I’d filled up all my cans, I put them away in the trunk and eyed the space that was left. I s’pose that’s the good thing about a Rover. You can fit a lot in them. I propped open the door to the shop and started taking everything we could fit in the car. Food, drinks, cigarettes, anything in there we could use. I even remembered to pick up an ice pack.
Joe was still filling up cans. He’d come into the shop and grabbed a couple more, moving onto another pump when his first one had run out. I hesitated. This felt too much like an apology to me. Letting out a sigh, I grabbed the ice pack, a bottle of water and a pack of beef jerky and took it over to Joe. I left it on the floor next to the pump he was at, moving on before he could say anything.
Rayn watched me as I walked over to him.
“Was that an apology, Cancer?” he laughed, amusement sparkling in his eyes. I whacked him around the back of his head, just hard enough to shut him up. He giggled and danced away from me, holding the nozzle of the gas pump in front of him like a sword. I bumped it with the flat of my knife just to make him happy, giving him a small smile. “Well, it’s about as close as you’ll ever get to saying sorry to anyone,” he laughed, lowering the nozzle again, “now you just have to hope that Joe’s gonna accept it.”