The Undead Situation by Eloise J. Knapp

required, it wouldn’t be a problem.
    “We’ll just go east,” I said. “I’m sure once we get out of the hot zones we’ll figure the rest out.”
    Pickle brushed up against my leg. I hadn’t seen her in quite a few hours, so her presence was comforting. I picked her up, letting her climb up onto my shoulder.
    “I’m surprised you have a pet.”
    Oh, boy. She just couldn’t shut up. I tried to show via body language I was done talking, but I wasn’t sure how. I ended up looking restless as I glanced at my room.
    Gabe took the hint and smiled halfheartedly before squeezing past me into the living room. I waited until I heard her settle into the sleeping bag I gave her before going into my own room. I shut the door and fell onto the bed.
    I was done with talking. Done with planning. I just wanted to sleep.

Chapter 7
     
     
    The weather got its act together and remembered what it should be doing. Sunlight broke through the morning mist, dissipating the grey clouds. I stared, entranced, at the small strip of sky just above the building next to mine. For a second I wished today would be normal. I’d work out, read my magazines and other relevant periodicals, then go work the night shift at the pharmacy. My daydream was brief, ending as I threw back the covers and made my bed for the last time. It seemed like the right thing to do, though irrational, and I took this quiet time to let my mind go blank.
    After I ate an MRE (Cheese tortellini), I rationed a bottle of water for tooth brushing and a miniscule sponge bath, again taking my time. Rushing things now would create a bad start for the rest of the day, for the rest of however long it was going to take to get somewhere safe. As I readied myself, I listened for their sounds outside but heard none. The stiffs dissipated overnight from the lack of stimuli.
    I got dressed. My barely used combat attire was stiff, as I hadn’t worn it yet. Under my pocket-laden tactical vest I wore a black, Ripstop tactical shirt, with a pair of coordinating Ripstop Tru-Spec pants to finish off the look. When browsing the internet for things like this, anything with the word ‘tactical’ seemed to work out just fine.
    By the time I finished getting ready and packing ferret food, I expected Gabe to be waking up, but she was still sleeping on the living room floor. Everything was ready to go—everything but her. Cutting her beauty sleep short, I pushed her onto her back with my foot.
    “Hey, get your act together. It’s time to go.”
    She opened her eyes wide and scrambled to her feet, reaching for her shoes at the same time. “Sorry.”
    “I’m going to bring everything to the balcony and check out the situation. Eat something, drink some water, and meet me out there.”
    As I suspected, there weren’t many undead outside. None of them even noticed me as I dragged our packs and everything else out. Since there were so few in the street, I doubted there were many more in the alley. I wasn’t going to need the Barrett.
    Gabe picked up the pace and was on the balcony just as I grew impatient. She looked up at the brick wall between us and the roof, then back to me.
    “How are we getting up there?”
    “You get on my shoulders and I’ll boost you up. Take this rope and loop it around something so we can lift the supplies.”
    I explained how getting on my shoulders worked. Leaning forward, I braced my hands on my knees so she could place her right foot atop my right thigh. Her hands went to my shoulders for support. The physical contact made me uncomfortable, but I ignored the feeling for the sake of practicality.
    Gabe worked her feet up to my shoulders and grabbed my offered hands so she could stand. She must’ve weighed around a hundred pounds, so the pressure of her feet on my shoulders was bearable.
    When we were both standing straight, Gabe’s forearms had just enough room to lay flat on the side of the ledge. This is where I got worried. It took a lot of strength to