Who: North and Bunny Where: an abandoned storefront in Austin What: running into each other When: Monday (today)
Less than a week. That’s how long it had been since Bunny first set foot inside of one of Austin’s shelters. Yet the world had shifted. It always felt different to be back in what passed for civilization again, and Austin was larger and more organized than most anywhere else Bunny had been since the zombies rose. It had given her hope, in the first days that she’d been watching the denizens of the city from afar, to see so many people. Of course there was more going on beneath the surface than was visible from first glance, but Bunny was sure she would figure out the lay of the land before too long.
Still, it was hard to deny that she felt her heart lift at being outside again. Some might’ve found the empty streets unsettling, but being out was almost second nature for Bunny by now: the watchfulness and the listening and the only sound that of her feet softly drumming on the pavement. Well, the last part was still new. And walking on the earth made less noise than walking on asphalt. Bunny softened her steps in response and, with a glance either way down the street, darted across to an empty storefront.
Most of the places along this road had been picked clean already, from the looks of things, but Bunny wasn’t out searching for supplies. Just peace of mind. The only thing that had set this particular store apart from the others was the beam of sunlight that hit its shattered front window, the light glancing across Bunny's face as she walked. Drawn almost like a moth to a flame, she tugged open the door, its lock long ago busted open by what looked like the work of a crowbar.
Bunny slipped through the entrance, careful not to catch her pack in the narrow opening she'd made, and paused as her eyes got used to the dim interior. No telltale moaning, or any other sounds of movement from deeper in the store. All was quiet.
Or was it? The little hairs rose on the back of Bunny's neck from a brush of cold air against her skin. It had to be in the 90s that day, which meant there was no reason for the sudden chill.
Don't worry, I'm listening, she thought, holding her breath and staying still. The time passed in heartbeats. One-one thousand. Two-one thousand.
A cough. The dead don't feel the need to clear their lungs, so Bunny crossed that possibility off her list. Taking a step deeper into the shop -- it looked like some kind of craft store, with the remains of fake flowers littering the floor -- she peered down a nearby aisle.
"Hello?" Despite the relatively low volume of her voice, the word seemed to echo in the abandoned store. "Is someone there?"