Escape - Part 2

Brien makes his way to the zoo... (part 2)

Voiced by Chad Luckner
Written by Brien Bartels
Original music by Ian Botsford

©Kaotix Illustrated

Transcript

Escape, part 2

Written by Brien Bartels, Read by Chad Luckner, man's voice

Made good time. Kept up a steady jog. Used a compact mirror to see around corners. Attracted a few of the infected right away. Saw familiar faces: the guy who used to cut my hair, a barista. Someone I went out with once. Alright, fine, you want to chase me? We’ll see who’s faster.

Down the hill on 7th, to Commerce. Avoid the Spanish Steps, white-washed territorial-era artifact. Its two flights short-cut to the water but was a place to get ambushed and killed in normal times. Commerce is the wide street with the trolley line. The theater district, now a carnal field. More slow moving zombies. Getting tired. Conscious of how long it has been since I ate. Yin scratches my lip open. Moisten my tongue on my own blood. Must keep one foot moving forward. Then the other. Again. And again.

On Pacific Avenue, I lead a parade through where the Daffodil Parade used to roll, like a drum major from hell. A running zombie darts out from under the freeway overpass, near the Pacific Grill. Unsling Mini-14. Haven’t fired it in years. Eye down the iron sights – why didn’t I buy a scope for it years ago? Or one of those little barrel stabilizers I saw online. Each time I miss the growing target I regret all those hours I didn’t spend on the range. Nooooo, I had to spend all my money on food and medicine, instead of range fees and ammo. Finally I bring him down. Deaf from the blasts, taste of cordite on tongue. Realize the slow ones have caught up.

Lash a few down with the boken, take to my heels again. Toss the gory plague-coated boken away. Stumbling, weezing, I find myself at the gate of the History Museum. And here Yin launches herself from the backpack, scuttles under the wrought iron fence and disappears. Shamblers crash into the gate just as I lock it behind me. Over the bridge to the Glass Museum. A good number of original Chihulys smashed all around, crunching underfoot. Calling Yin. Realizing she’s gone.