Sometimes We Ran (Book 1) by Stephen Drivick Page B

they evacuated the living out of my dorm. The rescue crews painted skulls on all the doors where they found undead. They also painted them on the exit doors too. I lost a lot of friends.” She turned her head away, and took another drink of water. I think she was crying a little.
    I had a few orange-skull stories myself. I remember walking through entire communities with nothing but skulls painted on the doors and walls. Some of them had been painted in haste as the crews themselves were forced to run as the undead swarmed the cities. In a lot of cases, the rescue crews became part of the swarm.
    Claire looked so sad leaning against the car. I wanted to put my hand on her shoulder to reassure her, but it didn’t feel right. We were still getting to know each other. Instead, I stood near her, not knowing what to say or do She wouldn’t look me in the eye. I think she didn’t want to cry in front of me.
    “You okay?” I finally asked.
    Claire looked up. Little tears had managed to escape her eyes. “Yeah. I try not to dwell too much on the past. Once in a while, it overwhelms me though. You ever feel that way?”
    I knew exactly how she felt. Sometimes, in the quiet between the moments of terror, memories of the old world would come back. Sometimes they would paralyze me with fear. I leaned against the car next to her. “I know how you feel. We have to be strong though. We can’t let grief overcome us, or we’ll give up. We don’t want to do that. Right?”
    Claire tried to smile, but failed. “You’re right.” She wiped her eyes. “So what’s the plan, Tiger?”
    Again with the “Tiger.” “Well, we have to find some more supplies. We’re running a little low. Also, we need to find a place to give you a bath. You smell a little like a really overripe banana,” I said, with a little smile.
    “Hey, I don’t smell too bad.” Claire lifted her sleeve to take a whiff and made a face. “Oh, maybe I do smell a little bit. You don’t smell too good either, Tiger.”
    I feared the nickname “Tiger” was going to stick. “Yeah, you’re right. We both could use a little touching up.” That last line got a giggle out of Claire. I was getting quite attached to her laugh. It was a much better sound than some of the others I’d heard lately.
    We stepped away from the car, leaving the orange skulls and our hygiene discussion behind. Suddenly, I had a pressing need to go to the bathroom. The water had gone right through me.
    “Uh, Claire. I have to …uh …you know.” I stammered like a teenager.
    ”What, John? What do you have to do?”
    I couldn’t believe how embarrassed I felt. I guess I’d been traveling by myself for too long. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
    Claire smiled a little crooked smile. “Well, go silly. I won’t stop you.”
    I looked around for a good place to relieve myself. I found a large oak tree surrounded by a few low bushes in one of the front yards. “I’m going to use that tree over there. You stand over by that mailbox. Keep an eye out for any trouble.”
    “Roger.” Claire threw me a salute.
    I walked over to the big old oak, unzipped, and began to water the bushes. I shot a quick glance over my shoulder at Claire. She was leaning against a large brick mailbox checking out our surroundings. It was nice to have a lookout for a change.
    I finished my business, and started to zip up. That’s when I caught a powerful scent.
    It was the scent of death.
    I stepped away from the tree just in time to see a Red-Eye zombie slide away from her hiding place behind the oak. It was a middle-aged female in a yellow dress. The dress had ripped and left her naked from the waist up. Blood, brains, and other assorted gore covered her front. She advanced towards me, hissing in anticipation of a good meal.
    I backed up slowly, fumbling for my gun. I wasn’t watching where I was going, and promptly fell on my butt. The Red-Eye shot forward, bending down so she could eat. I couldn’t seem