Read Online Only The Dead Don't Die by A.D. Popovich - Free Book Online Page B

the shoulder and took the previous exit.
    For some reason, she couldn’t see the actual arena that was usually visible from Arena Boulevard. She decided that she must be lost again, and she headed in the opposite direction. She found it maddening that all of the entrances to the arena were barricaded. So she continued driving around the area until she found a small opening between two yellow school buses. Can I make it through? It was the only way in as far as she could tell. Already frazzled, she cringed at the sound of metal scraping metal, that unbearable screech, like the sounds of metal fingernails raking a chalkboard.
    Attempting her way to Sports Parkway, she drove around the back of a maintenance building lot and used a maintenance access road to connect to the arena’s main road. Once on Sports Parkway, she was amazed at the rows and rows of city buses and charter buses parked on the side of the road. The buses were all empty: just like in Roseville.
    Her heart palpitated faster and faster as she slowly passed the never ending line of buses; had all of those buses been full of people? Is this where everyone is? Had the entire city of Roseville been evacuated to Natomas? She was surprised not to see any police or any attendants monitoring the area.
    When she finally reached a point in the road not blocked by the empty buses, she screamed in utter despair, “Dear God!”  The Sleep Train Arena, once home to the famous (or not) Sacramento Kings, had been completely destroyed. Not even a fire could do that. No. It had definitely been bombed.
    “Shit, shit, shit!” She pounded her fist on the steering wheel and inadvertently managed to beep the horn several times in her anguish. She had really expected—really needed to find help at this Major Shelter Center: the police, the military or FEMA, just one single living human being. Is that too much to flippin’ ask?
    It had taken her all day to get here. And even worse, she had most likely ruined the car’s paint job and all for nothing. A movement in the rubble caught her attention. The rubble appeared to be growing in size; then she realized it was moving towards her, a mass of charred things. A rather large pack of creepers had spotted her and was crawling and hobbling directly towards her. She whipped the car around. “ Now what? Now what !” She ranted hysterically. Think!
    OK, OK, Natomas—what’s in Natomas? She racked her brain for ideas. She used to have a boyfriend that lived in Natomas; he used to take her to the Kings’ games. Jeff. Whatever happened to him? As she recalled, he didn’t live far from the arena. Irrationally she convinced herself that Jeff was home—this very second, and she drove to Innovator Drive, all the while peering out the window in a furiously frantic fervor of fear.
    First of all, it was ludicrous to think Jeff would even be home. Yeah, right, he’s lounging in his favorite chair drinking a Corona . Secondly, he probably wouldn’t answer the door if he saw her through the peephole. (That relationship had not ended well.) And thirdly, the world had gone mad. Natomas seemed to be deserted too. But she needed a plan, anything to hold on to. She drove around searching for his townhouse, remembering his unit was near a park. Jeez Louise, all of these townhouses look the same.
    “There it is,” she gasped, recognizing the greenish-blue patio furniture on the front porch. Ignoring the red painted curb, she parked the car, no time to find a parking spot and at this point, definitely not too worried about a parking ticket.
    Scarlett frowned at the sky; it was getting late, almost dark. She grabbed her purse, bat, and the rifle that she had stolen or rather acquired from the hermit neighbor, turned creeper. Out of habit, she rang the doorbell, even risked turning the knob of the front door, but it was locked, and no one answered. Really, what did you expect?
    She stood completely still. Shuffling noises from around the corner of