Between Two Evils

The stray

My balance wavered in a weakening exhaustion. My head pounded painfully. My heart felt weak. And on top of it all, my vision was blurry. But that didn't matter. I needed to keep moving. I needed to fight against my body's weakness begging me to stop. People were relying on me. I couldn't stop now.

     With one large movement I pulled on my pants. An exhale escaped from my lips as I stood up straight.
   I had just finished my morning shower and now stood in my hotel suite bathroom  My hand pushed through my damp hair, my migraine pounding in retaliation.

Looking back, I admittedly shouldn't have had so much to drink the night before. But I would not lose to a hangover.

Once I had finished preparing myself for the day, my eyes took in the sight reflected on the bathroom mirror.
My wavy Chestnut colored hair was pushed into a sloppy middle part. My dark blue eyes were tired and accompanied by dark circles denting my skin. And my skin was more pale than usual, making the light freckles scattered on my face more visible.
As for clothes, I wasn't exactly a fashion icon but I stuck close to my roots.
I wore a dark blue long sleeve athletic shirt, a black face mask that now hung around my neck, and black cargo army pants held tight by a black belt.
The outfit, though plain, served as a reminder of my life before the breakout. Those under my leadership also adorned similar uniforms.

With a quick glance down at the red and silver vintage Timex watch on my wrist, I made a hasty exit from my bathroom. 9:47.
After pulling on black army boots I grabbed the last part of my uniform; two holsters. I secured the strap of a knife holster around my thigh and the one made for a large gun across my chest. Of course the latter remained empty momentarily, contrasting the black tactical military knife weighing down my leg.

Grabbing the empty black backpack that sat beside my door, I finally made my exit.
The lights that illuminated the glum white walls of the hotel brought a sudden sting to my eyes. I squeezed them shut for a few seconds before allowing my eyelids to drift open.
My boots thumped against the torn and dirty red carpet below as I made my way towards the elevator at the end of the cement corridor.
My finger pressed the lower of the two buttons on the wall, calling the lift with a soft ding.
I was in a slight rush. The race started as soon as I exited the safety of my room. The sooner I got out of the safehouse, the less likely I was to run into one of my drinking buddies from last night or someone who might want to bother me. As the metal doors closed, I pressed the button marked 1.

Moments later I stepped out of the elevator and onto the first floor. The lobby was far from crowded, most people either in the cafeteria eating breakfast or doing their jobs around the hotel property.
I gave short greetings to those passing by as I made my way to the front entrance of the safehouse and pushed my body through the double doors.

Outside reflected just about what you'd imagine for an apocalyptic bunker. Our property was surrounded by giant cement walls, the only exception being the metal barred fence that was wrapped in electric barbed wire, which had red stains, from both rust and blood. Besides the fence was a table, one chair on either side of it, which sat two familiar faces. And storage on top of the table included pocket and military knives, two pistols, boxes of ammo, and a large first aid box. One large rifle sat leaned against each of the two chairs.

The man nearest to me had mildly curly blonde hair that fell a little long around his pale white face. Under his shaggy bangs were round hazel eyes. He was slightly shorter than me, standing at around six feet.
“Kit, dude, there you are! I was starting to think you had finally died from alcohol poisoning.”
Shawn had been my best friend since high school. We had bonded over our mutual dream of growing up to be cops. And when the outbreak started, he specifically requested to be in my safehouse as second in command.
I looked at the grinning face of my best friend with an unimpressed frown. Seeing my reaction, the man cleared his throat. “I guess you’re still hungover. You know, nobody would start a riot if you missed one patrol.”
After letting out a slow groan I shook my head. “No, I'm fine. Actually, I think a little exercise would help.”
A short laugh drew my attention to the woman sitting in the other seat. “What a world we live in. Now ‘a little exercise’ consists of going out and shooting undead people who want to eat us.” Nichole was also someone who'd come from our academy, though we definitely weren’t as close, at least, I wouldn’t consider us close.
The woman had messy shoulder length hair, long curtain bangs framing her round cheeks, and a sharp jawline. Her hooded eyes were a light blue. Darkened by exhausted eyebags, much like my own. Her skin was a pale white and her body reflected her athletic skill set.
Nichole picked up a gold plated desert eagle pistol in one hand and a CETME assault rifle in the other, holding them out expectantly.
I took the guns from her hands, dropping the rifle into its holster before tucking the pistol into my belt.