Deirdre's boots crunched on the gravel in the parking lot of the abandoned zip trip gas station. She crouched by the door, her shotgun drawn, and peeked through into the eerily lit convenience store. Seeing nothing of note, she tried the door and it swung open easily. Good, no need to draw attention to herself by breaking the glass. She walked inside, shotgun drawn, and skirted the window towards the register. Shit! She needed gas, desperately, and she didn't know how to use the damned authorization pad. she was not paying for it now. She'd spent the night in jail, seen a cop brutally eaten alive, and barely escaped with her life, now everyone she encountered was some version of dead. No WAY was she paying for fucking gas. Searching under the counter she found an employee ID card on which the poor sucker had written his pass code on the back.
She shouted with glee, and then covered her mouth quickly, glancing around. The store remained silent. She slid the card in the register slot to activate it, then punched in the passkey. Cheering silently as the screen read "authorized" she slunk back out to her Ducati and began filling. God she hated it here, she was an open target with plenty of places for zombies to hide. She turned the nozzle into the gas tank and thanked her lucky stars that she only needed a few gallons. This would be quick. When the machine stopped pumping with a click that made her jump, she just dropped the nozzle onto the ground, closed her tank, jumped on the bike and sped off.
"Later mother fuckers! You'll have to snack another time!"
Dee's stomach growled and a dull ache worked its way up her abdomen.
"Speaking of snacks. Damn. I need to eat. Should grabbed something at that gas station"
She looked up at the signs she was passing on I-5, and pulled off on the next exit. There should be a Safeway nearby; she could get some food to stash in her Ducati so she wouldn't have to stop again. She'd left the police station in such a hurry that her under-seat storage had only shotgun shells that she'd pilfered from the armory, no clothes or food. Her stomach growled again and she pulled into the Safeway parking lot slowly, looking to make sure it was clear before she lowered her protective shield. She glanced at the lowering sun and hoped she'd be out of here and back on the freeway before dark. Readying her shotgun and putting a handful of extra shells into her jacket, she slunk up to the door, amazed that it still slid open automatically, the air inside was still perfectly temperature controlled. She slunk inside, her shotgun at her shoulder, but then she tripped on some cans that had been knocked to the floor and crashed into a molding display of pastries. Oh well, the store already looked as though a bomb had gone off it in. She scrambled to her feet and backed against the deli counter as a hobbling form came from behind an isle shelf. She pumped her shotgun and instead ended up leaping to the side as a zombie she hadn't seen emerge from the deli lunged at her in his slow halting motion. She jerked her shotgun toward the zombie and fired once, the scattered blast ripping his torso in half and spraying decaying flesh and blood across her leather jacket.
"Damn it! That's going to be a Bitch to clean you bastard!"
She shouted, and then aimed her shotgun at the other approaching zombie. Blasting it, she noticed that the scuffle had attracted a lot of unwanted attention as zombies began shuffling towards her from all points of the store. She pulled her shotgun open and dumped the spent shells onto the floor, fumbling to reload it. Stupid double barrel pump action!
"GODDAMMIT! You'd think those stupid pigs would have better equipment!"
She shrieked in frustration as she snapped the gun closed and pumped it again, taking aim. She blew the head completely off the next zombie, and a hole out of the torso of the next, but again she had to stop and reload. She looked at the advancing mob, they were about 30 feet away now, damn it and there was about 12 of them. SO did not have time for this.