The Heist (© J. Sherwood)
Page 1 Shelley lined up the shot. She
regulated her breathing and made sure her footing was solid. She ignored the
sounds and other distractions around her. It was just her and her lucky 5-iron. She pictured the shot and took
it. The ankle-biter was torn free of Hugo's pant leg and flew squealing in fury
through the air. Even though it was dark, Shelley shaded her eyes and squinted,
watching until the little beast was gone. "Jesus Christ, Shelley!" Hugo
screamed. "Did you have to take that long?" He was already crouched down and
inspecting his leg for damage. "Yes," Shelley said simply. She
twirled her 5-iron and propped it casually on her shoulder. "You just can't
take a shot that isn't right." Hugo tried tucking his pants
into his boots for the umpteenth time but they were too shredded to stay. "I
fucking hate those things," he muttered. "It's a good thing you got me
and Daisy, then." Shelley grinned. Hugo glowered at her and stood
back up. They'd argued more than once over why they were together. Never once
did they come up with anything other than they'd both be dead without a
partner. Apocalypses just aren't
something you can go it alone on. "We should get going," Hugo
said. "Where there's one, there's bound to be others." "Right." Shelley sobered up
quick and spun in a full circle, searching the ruins-littered street for more
of the ankle-biters. Hugo took point, sliding around
the corner of the brick bank and hurrying as quietly as he could down the
sidewalk. Shelley followed a few steps behind. She had Daisy, her trusty
5-iron, while Hugo had the gun and a crowbar. When Hugo came to a sudden
halt, Shelley was quick to stop as well. The two had done this sneaking around
bit enough times to understand how best it went. Hugo held up a hand and Shelley
listened. Hugo left a single finger up before slowly motioning around the
corner in front of him: in through the front doors. He took a few steps back and
turned around to whisper to Shelley. "We've got a chum inside. How it managed,
I don't know. But we've got to get it out before we can go in." Shooting it was out of the
picture: it had to be lured out. A gunshot would attract every face-eating son
of a bitch within a mile or two. It would be no different than letting the chum
make a commotion. They had to deal with it,
though. They had to get into the bank. "We should find out how it got
inside first," Shelley whispered. "That's probably going to be the best way to
get it out." Hugo nodded and pointed past
Shelley. She flattened herself against the wall and he slipped past her. One
behind the other, they circled around the building. They stayed away from the
old burned-out dumpsters in the back. That's usually where the ankle-biters
came from—or worse, if they weren't lucky. As they made their way down the
rutted alley, Hugo again came to a stop. Shelley immediately turned her back to
him and kept an eye out. "Shelley," he hissed. "What?" "We can't go this way." "What do you…" Shelley trailed
off as she looked over her shoulder and past Hugo. There was a collection of
nearly pristine bottles of booze gathered together in the middle of the road. "Shit," Shelley swore.
Immediately she looked up, scanning the edges of roofs all around them. "Lead us out of here, girl,"
Hugo said in as calm of a tone as he could manage. "I am all over that." Shelley crept
forward, every step low and deliberate. She tightened her grip on Daisy and
watched above them just as much as she did ahead of them. "Shit," Hugo said behind her. "What?" Shelley whispered. She
didn't dare look back. [ Continue to page 2 ] |