A Little Me Time Read online

  A little me time

  by David Rogers

  A little me time

  Copyright© 2013 by David Rogers

  [email protected]

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased or lent for your use, then please return to your preferred ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of original fiction set in Georgia. Some real locations and businesses have been used to set scenes, but all such trademarks are the respective property of their owners. All depicted characters are fictional and not intended to represent specific living persons.

  Cover map data Copyright©2013 Google

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter One – Coming down the mountain

  Chapter Two – Take a look around

  Chapter Three – Leaving it all behind

  Foreword

  Zombies

  Chapter One – Coming down the mountain

  Lloyd straightened with a happy sigh and gazed around from the peak of the mountain with a deep sense of satisfaction. Every year it seemed to get a little harder, but he could still hike the hills with the best of them. Of course, every year there seemed fewer and fewer who were even interested in hiking said hills. Or any hills. Or even hiking, for that matter.

  “Don’t know what they’re missing.” Lloyd murmured as he took in the view. The top of Powell Mountain gave a spectacular view of the area, even allowing for the many other peaks that surrounded it. The north Georgia mountains were part of the picturesque Appalachian chain, and while the area he’d grown to favor over the years wasn’t the tallest, he didn’t care. Let the weekend warriors – really the quarterly, or even the once-a-year warriors – have the more touristy areas.

  He liked the quiet. The untouched nature. Sure there were still roads around, but only on the lower elevations. No sir, this part of the landscape was made for good hiking boots and a sturdy set of legs to make use of them. You weren’t getting so much as an ATV up here, much less any sort of real vehicle.

  It was just the way he liked it.

  Lloyd spent about a half an hour just enjoying the view. The late afternoon sun was starting to cast shadows across the tree covered slopes that was made to fill a man’s soul up with wonder. Taking a picture would cheapen it. But the sun kept sinking, and reluctantly he turned to head back down to a lower elevation before night started to fall.

  By the time he got back to the little crevice where he’d left his pack, the sun was low enough that the trees turned dusk into darkness. He shrugged into the old canvas rucksack and pulled out his flashlight. The compass hanging from his belt gave him a bearing, and he struck out without hesitation. Another half an hour brought him to the creek he’d found earlier, where he’d decided he was going to spend his last night of vacation.

  Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He wasn’t due back at work until Monday, but he always left himself an extra day in case he decided to take his time on the hike back to civilization. And, honestly, Sunday night didn’t really count as a vacation night. That was a work night. Any time you went to sleep knowing you had to be somewhere the next morning, that wasn’t a vacation night. It belonged to whoever expected you to be at that somewhere.

  It was part of why he liked to get away.

  Lloyd hummed tunelessly as he busied himself with his camp chores – setting up his little tent, gathering wood and building a fire pit, and finally starting a proper fire for light and comfort. Then, all that settled, he used his pocket knife to quickly whittle all the extra bits off a stout piece of treefall and attached his fishing line to it.

  His main concessions to modern convenience were the rice and spices he carried, the glow-in-the-dark compass, and the little leather roll of plastic fishing flies and metal hooks. He picked out a good wiggler and baited the line, then dropped it into the creek and leaned back against a convenient rock. It was so peaceful up here. Nothing was busy, no phones ringing or people dropping by with complaints or ‘just a minute’ questions. Definitely no traffic, and – as much as he loved them to tears – no wife or kids either.

  Lloyd let the gentle burble of the creek sooth him as he waited for a nibble, enjoying the clean air and regretting only that tomorrow he had to hike out. By the time the moon had started illuminating the sky, he’d landed three decent sized fish. He only needed a few minutes to clean and fillet them, then he got them going in the little frying pan that doubled as his plate. The rice was already bubbling in the bowl / pot.

  A little salt and pepper on the fish was all the flavoring it needed, then he mashed them up and mixed the flaky meat through the rice. It tasted mighty fine as he listened to the forest’s second shift start to wake up. There was the day forest, and the night. He liked both. The day was all about vista and captivation, while the night revolved around more subtle enticements.

  Lloyd was sorry when he finished up the rice and fish, but it was getting late. The creek that had provided the fish also served to wash out the pot and pan, and he tucked them away in his ruck before crawling into the tent and stretching out. He fell asleep with the owls and crickets providing him company.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Lloyd awoke to songbirds and a warm shaft of sunlight that split through the trees just right to land on the open flap of his tent. He stretched and yawned, and delayed his departure as much as he could. Breakfast was important, so he had to catch and clean and cook fish for that. Tidying up the camp site was important, so he took his time dousing the ashes of his fire and scattering the tree limbs and rocks. The tent had to be packed properly or it wouldn’t ride in the ruck right, so he dawdled over that too.

  Finally though, he was out of things to do, and he reluctantly shouldered the pack and started off. The miles fell away beneath his boots as he traipsed over the slopes. All too soon – though it was a number of hours – he had reached the cracked two lane expanse of US-76. The road wasn’t the most direct way back to Hiawassee, but it would only add about twenty or twenty-five minutes to his walk. And would avoid him having to skirt around private property.

  Trusting his ears to alert him to any vehicles approaching from behind, Lloyd headed northwest along the asphalt. It was both better and worse for walking. More level, without any dips or sticks that could trip up an attentive hiker; but not as forgiving on the soles, ankles and knees as dirt and grass. The stretch of lake off to his left was pleasant to look at though, as he hiked up the road.

  He was almost to town when he realized something seemed off. He’d been on the road long enough that it was odd to have not been passed by a car or truck or something by now. Hiawassee was a very small town, right at around a thousand people; but this was still summer. Late summer, but that actually made it even better. Lots of ‘wilderness tourists’ wouldn’t venture out in the height of the heat. September in Georgia was still hot and humid, but it was typically better than July or August.

  Between the road and the long winding lake that he knew meandered up to and past the town, before turning into an even broader more lake-like lake north . . . he should’ve seen someone by now. Someone in a boat or a canoe, a delivery truck, campers . . . strange.

  Lloyd pondered that for the next five or ten minutes as he continued walking. Then – once he was sort of mentally on the subject – he realized he didn’t hear much of anything. Oh there were the noises he liked – wind in the trees, birds and chipmunks, lapping water – but none of the ones he disappeared into the mountains to avoid. Engines, horns, boats, jet skis, people; those were not i
n evidence. Only the background of the mountains and woods.

  Piqued now, Lloyd allowed his comfortable pace to quicken somewhat, and was soon at the outskirts of the town. The first building that he thought of as part of Hiawassee proper was a sort of miniature strip mall; a long, low slung structure that was shared by three businesses. A pawn shop, a hardware store that dealt primarily in power tools and outdoor equipment, and a propane dealer.

  They were the sorts of businesses that needed to be here, but also only survived because they had no competition. Not that Home Depot would bother to open a store anywhere near here, but if one did, or an Ace or another independent, then things would get tight for the owner. Same for the propane guy. Maybe the pawn shop could survive if another one started dividing up the work, but Lloyd doubted it.

  There simply were only so many customers to go around this far into the mountains, where the population density was low. Start losing people to a divided field, and it was over. For that reason, Lloyd was surprised to see the parking lot empty. The stores were closed up tight. He dug his watch out of his pocket where it had been since Labor Day. No, he hadn’t gotten mixed up. It was Saturday afternoon, still early in the afternoon. It should have been a reasonably brisk period for at least the hardware store, with people coming by to have chainsaws or lawnmowers worked on.

  Lloyd walked past a couple of houses, each set well back from the road and still not yet too encroached upon by the slowly growing civilization around them. They were equally quiet; no one out on the porches, no kids in the yards, no smoke rising from a backyard grill. No, that wasn’t quite true. He did smell smoke, but it was coming from somewhere on the other side of town; north a ways. He looked in that direction, but he didn’t see any. Just smelled it.

  Finally he got to Abner’s Tire and Auto, more than a little perplexed. His confusion only grew when he saw the garage and bays were closed up tight. That was beyond strange. Even though there were plenty of paved roads out here, living up in the mountains could be tough on a vehicle. Plus most of the locals knew better than to neglect them; being stranded when you were three hours from an AAA truck was best avoided. Saturday was always Abner’s busiest day, by far. Especially in tourist season.

  Yet as Lloyd strode onto the lot, he saw no sign of any activity at all. The lights were off in the store area, and when he stood against the glass and cupped his hands around his face to better see inside, he saw absolutely no sign of anyone being present.

  Annoyed now, Lloyd glanced around at the front parking lot one more time, as if daring it to stop being empty. But nothing materialized. He headed around to the back of the building, and then cursed. His Ranger was not here. He always let Abner have it while he was up here. Rather than having to rent a motel room he wasn’t planning on using just so he could have a parking space, Lloyd preferred to let Abner do all the annual maintenance the Ranger could ever need in exchange for it staying in his care for the week Lloyd spent up in the mountains.

  This was his eleventh year doing this, and Abner had never raised a hair of protest when Lloyd had first proposed, then continued, the arrangement. He always got the Ranger back completely tuned up into tip-top shape, and Abner was happy for the business. And it wasn’t as if Abner, unlike big city mechanics, had any shortage of space on his lot. A hundred vehicles could fit onto the lot without much crowding at all.

  But as Lloyd stood looking around, his little blue Ford Ranger was nowhere to be seen. He circled around the building to the far side, just in case, then came up along the vehicle bays and peered closely into each one. But no, the Ranger was not in any of them for some last minute adjustment.

  Lloyd kicked at the side of the building angrily. It wasn’t necessarily that he wanted to leave just yet. But his phone was in the car, on purpose. He had absolutely no need of it when he was up on the slopes, and the coverage was spotty out there at best. He only kept his wallet on him because one year he’d encountered a game warden that got annoyed when Lloyd explained his identification was down in town. Since then he’d grudgingly carried it; but there was no law that he had to have a phone with him at all times.

  He glanced around. Across the road was a storage franchise, orderly rows of little garages with their orange doors. There was no fence around it like you saw in Atlanta; this was rural and back country enough to still have little, if any, crime. Just the occasional scuffle between two of the country boys over something silly that resulted in a black eye or a few scratches. Occasional speeding tickets. Maybe some underage drinking on the part of a tourist’s precocious teenager while boating or jet skiing; but that was it.

  The storage place looked deserted too. It wasn’t a hotbed of activity, but usually the owner’s car would be out front. And often one or two of his buddies, who would all sit in the rocking chairs out front and shoot the shit while they waited for the rare instance of someone needing to come store something. Not now. Nothing but clear gravel and dirt, and the lights were off on both the building and its little neon ‘open’ sign.

  Lloyd pursed his lips, perplexed. Maybe a town meeting had been called? He didn’t know. But he did know that about three more minutes up the road was a Zaxby’s, where he could get some proper processed and industrially prepared food. And they’d have a phone. And likely some news or gossip or something about whatever the hell was going on. Shaking his head a little mentally, Lloyd continued walking northwest. As he topped the slight hill and started nearing the restaurant, he saw movement in the parking lot. He squinted against the sun and was able to resolve a handful of figures that seemed to be milling aimlessly about on the asphalt.

  “Hello.” Lloyd called as he came within a hundred feet of the Zaxby’s lot. “Town seems quiet today, did I miss a memo on a meeting or something?”

  Heads came around to look at him. Not quickly, and not without what appeared to be more than a routine amount of effort. Two of the figures seemed to almost be unable to complete the simple physical action of looking in his direction. Lloyd continued walking, but he frowned slightly. It was awfully early for the kind of drinking that looked to be in evidence here. And they were risking heat exhaustion doing it out in the sun like this too; alcohol was a desiccant that was a fast ticket to big time trouble when it was this bright and hot.

  “You guys should maybe head inside, or head back to your motel room.” Lloyd said as mildly as he could as some of the people started staggering towards him. Sure this was a tourist town, but there were limits. Falling down drunk – literally, as he saw one of the people trip over his own feet and land face first on the asphalt.

  “Hey, you okay?” Lloyd asked, wincing. The guy had gone down without making any effort to break his fall. He’d just face planted straight into the hard, unyielding parking lot. That had to have broken his nose, and regardless surely hurt. But Lloyd didn’t hear so much as a grunt by way of reaction. In fact, the guy was already scrabbling with hands and knees trying to rise again.

  While that one was trying to get up, the first of the other four had now reached the edge of the parking lot. They were getting close enough for Lloyd to make out features, rather than just humanoid shapes. He paused as they began to register. Something was off here . . .

  The person in the lead, by about two steps, had something on his face. Lloyd squinted again, and thought it might be blood. If it wasn’t, then there had been a barbecue earlier and the guy was one hell of a messy eater. He had it all over his cheeks and chin. So did the one behind him, a woman wearing what looked like Atlanta country club clothes. But they’d seen better days, because the shirt was torn at the shoulder, and her stylish slacks were ripped and dirty.

  “You guys don’t talk?” Lloyd asked as they continued walking toward him. No, that wasn’t right. Walking was a fairly orderly process. You lifted a foot, leaned forward a little, put the foot down. Repeat. That was walking, and wasn’t what these folks were doing. They were – well the word was staggering. They teetered back and forth almost as much as they ma
naged to stumble forward, weaving as they nearly fell every couple of seconds.

  “I don’t know . . .” Lloyd began, then trailed off. The latest stagger had sent Mrs. Country Club to the side a little, and let him get a clear look at the person behind her. This one was dressed like he was about to go fishing or maybe needed to launch his boat. His waders hung by a single strap, the other dangling loose around his thighs. Right next to his missing left forearm.

  Lloyd stopped and stared. He’d seen amputees before, they weren’t as rare as, say, Siamese twins. But this wasn’t a typical case of a missing limb. This looked . . . fresh. The part just below his elbow where his arm ended was red and raw and ragged, but didn’t appear to be bleeding despite that. There was no smoothly healed over bulb of skin. In fact, Lloyd saw stubs of what could only be bone protruding a little.

  “Uh . . .” he stepped back. The guy who’d fallen was on his feet again, and Lloyd looked closely at him. His nose was definitely broken, almost certainly from the fall. But he didn’t seem to mind, and it wasn’t bleeding. No one whose nose had been rotated nearly ninety degrees relative to the usual position should not be bleeding. And even a tough guy would show some sign that it was – Lloyd didn’t know really – annoying, painful, distracting?

  His instincts were starting to light off. Lloyd was not a violent man. The last fight he’d gotten into was back in grade school, and that one he’d lost. Timmy Mathers had accused him of . . . Lloyd couldn’t even remember what the fight had been about. Whatever it was Timmy had thought Lloyd had done, he’d backed it with fists and feet until Lloyd had broken away and run off.

  Lloyd was starting to get that same feeling here. Something was wrong, and he felt like it was definitely time to head for home.

  “Okay, look, I don’t know what the deal is.” Lloyd said calmly, starting to back up. “But I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. Okay?”