Supremacy In Apocalypse

Chapter 7

Evelyn blinked. She had been preparing to explain why her guild would be interested in him, and for a moment she wondered whether she had misunderstood his words.

"What? Wait, I haven't even told you what I wanted."

But Owen had already turned around. One of his zombies adjusted a carton that was slipping from its arms, and the others followed as he began walking away from the store.

"Owen!" Evelyn called, limping forward a step. "At least hear me out. I'm not trying to cause you trouble!"

He didn't answer. She opened her mouth again, then stopped when pain shot through her leg.

By the time she steadied herself against the wall, he was farther down the street, moving past an abandoned car without so much as a glance in her direction.

Evelyn stared after him with a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief. A few moments earlier, she had been certain that the smile meant something. Now she was standing alone with a packet of medicine and an introduction she hadn't managed to finish.

'What a strange man.'

She called his name once more, louder this time. Owen didn't turn back. Not even once.

By the next junction, the store had disappeared behind the buildings. Owen slowed his steps to examine the road ahead, where several vehicles had been abandoned across the lanes.

A traffic sign hung sideways from its pole, and weeds had begun growing through cracks in the pavement. The street was quiet enough that he could hear the shuffling feet of his followers behind him.

He had food, water, medicine, and something far more useful than any of them. What he didn't have was somewhere to keep everything. Carrying cartons through the streets might work for an afternoon, but he couldn't spend the rest of his life wandering from one shop to another.

A safe haven was the next thing he needed.

He stopped beside an old road map fixed to the wall of a bus shelter. Much of the plastic covering had been broken, but the major roads were still visible. Owen wiped a layer of dirt from the surface with his sleeve and followed one of the routes with his finger until it reached Haven 3.

There was a registration center there. He remembered seeing notices about territory claims before the evacuation, when the authorities were encouraging groups to reclaim buildings and districts that had fallen to the infected. Anyone willing to take responsibility for clearing a registered location could have their name entered against it.

Owen had paid little attention to those notices at the time. He had been occupied with the considerably simpler problem of staying alive. Now, though, the idea of claiming one of those places didn't sound nearly as foolish as it once had.

He studied the map a little longer, then tapped a road leading towards the center.

Registering a place first would save him from clearing an entire district only to have someone arrive afterward with a document claiming ownership.

He could deal with zombies. He had no desire to begin his new life arguing over land with strangers.

The nearest route passed through the more populated part of the city. Owen looked over his shoulder at the infected standing behind him, their arms filled with supplies. One had a badly damaged jaw, another dragged its foot across the ground, and a third had been carrying its carton upside down until Owen corrected it.

He almost laughed at the thought of marching into Haven 3 with them.

A person might be forgiven for arriving at the gates covered in blood. Bringing an entire group of zombies along to help carry groceries was another matter entirely.

Owen left the bus shelter and walked towards a row of abandoned buildings a short distance from the main road. The windows were broken, and the narrow passage between two of the structures was screened from the street by a collapsed metal fence. It would do for the time being.

He directed the zombies into the passage and had them put the cartons down where they couldn't be seen from the road. They moved without complaint, although one dropped a bag too roughly, making several cans roll across the concrete. Owen looked at it for a moment before ordering it to pick them up again.

When everything had been gathered, he stood at the entrance of the passage, making sure the group remained out of sight. From the road, there was little to suggest that anything occupied the space beyond the fence.

"Stay hidden," he instructed, looking from one infected face to another. "The city people aren't ready for you all yet."

His gaze moved towards the road leading to Haven 3.

"Neither are they for me.”