Chapter Twenty-Five
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I clench my teeth as I keep hearing a soft whimper coming from Kira as I move around the city, but now, with this newfound vigor, I’m not scared anymore, I’m not dependent anymore.

I’m more than determined that I’ll find her cure myself, I’m going to save her, for sure.

Though I cannot do anything regarding the need to jump around I try to steady her with one arm as the other assists in my jumps as I steady myself against a wall or hold unto a pipe.

This is so thrilling and childishly addicting that I could certainly forget myself by jumping around and testing the limits of my new body, but even though my mind keeps being capture by all the new sensations and strange smells brought by the wind the weight on my chest reminds me of my mission constantly.

And now, even though mobility wasn’t a big issue  anymore, something else was.

 I may have thought to be able to track down a veterinarian clinic by smell only but I soon discover that it had been a naïve idea, not that I would not be able to do it with my newfound sense of smell, I was rather confident on that regard, but mostly because it has been 3 years since they shut down, so no traces of smell would exist by now.

So, in the end, after stopping for directions and trying not to get carried away again and keep a straight mind, me and Luna discussed what to do next when a familiar smell hit me, one of the firsts that hit my nose since I develop this sense so sharply.

The special zombie.

She had passed through here… could it be that she was going to her clinic? Sounds odd, but somehow believable since she had stayed in her old house even after her death.

Perhaps she had some memories of her alive time? Some attachments perhaps? Or it was as simple as muscle reaction, where she repeated the same actions from when she was alive?

It would be impossible to know what passes on her goopy undead brain, but still it could be a good lead to follow… better than the nonexisting one that I have currently.

I decide to follow her in the end, I could still keep an eye out while following her smell, doubling my chances of finding a clinic.

Of course it was hardly the best option… but it was what I have to go with.

Following her trail I pass by some strange walls build over the streets, made of unsteady bricks that were definitely simply piled up together by someone inexperienced in building structures.

Maybe some survivors tried to block the streets with walls? It didn’t seem to have ended up well, or ended up at all since some spaces had fallen apart and allowed the zombies to come and go, and yet seemed to be freshly made since the place was all dirty with building mass and broken bricks.

I was just hoping that they had not taken the medicines that I was looking for.

Even though my destination couldn’t be that far away the more I follow her trail, the farther I got from the climbable houses, changing from roofs and small apartments to rich people houses, with big gardens separating each building and 3 meters walls.

The good part is, most of these buildings where locked up from the outside, meaning that there were only the zombies from the inside to deal with; but that was the bad part too since I would have to get down and deal with them if I wanted to continue my journey and reach beyond these gardens.

I was still unaware of how much my body had changed and how well could I deal with any dangerous situations from now on, but figured quick enough that there was only one way to find out; so I jump over the balcony of the house I was on and do a quick survey of the place, my eyes scanning the darkness without difficulty as I do not lower my guard even though I could only hear silence on this floor.

I was still far from used to this hearing to precisely pinpoint the location of the zombies around this house.

Even though I feel much better regarding my problem with germs; something that bothered me even more than the sharp senses; I did not wish to fight barehanded so I decide to go around the house and find a weapon in case I need to clean a path among the undead.

I wonder where could I find a good weapon here… I remember that, at the beginning of the apocalypse, as many others, I thought that sharp weapons would be the best to kill zombies with but we soon discovered that the blood would tamper with the sharpness of the blade not only in long terms but mid-battle since the tick goopy dark blood of the zombies would stick to the blade like goo until you were left with a useless piece of thin metal.

Plus the aftercare, the cleaning, the sharpening, who had time for those in the apocalypse? Ugh, a nightmare it is.

No no, the best type of weapon was the ones that destroyed things in one hit; harmers, maces, wrenches and the like, things that the brute weight and impact would crack a skull like an egg.

So… inside would probably have some kitchen knives and the like, but where could I find the good weapons… They are usually kept with the car, even an iron bar would do better for me now, so I look around and try to find the garage as my eye surveys the area only to be caught by a small house to the side, probably filled with gardening utensils since it had buckets and lawnmower laying outside.

Hm… Is worth the try, is outside the house so is bound to be empty too.

I look over the garden before falling down, asserting that the place was so big that the few zombies dragging themselves about wouldn’t be a problem, I had more than enough room to maneuver and reach the house.

I wish I could test out my limits more and pick some fights; or even clean the place up and make a base of it, looked nice enough to be worth it; but with Kira hanging around me literally I chose to avoid any trouble and go as quickly and quietly as possible to my destination.

Even though it was made of wood, this small shack was once well-taken care of, probably so it wouldn’t look out of place, the once white paint still clinging to the wood.

The double doors seemed to be unlocked, but a pull makes me realize that the years did a number on the wood, making their crook and get stuck on the floor.

I could get it open with force, but it wouldn’t be the smoothest silent move to do right now.

I look around and find a dirty window to the side almost covered by plants, part of the glass broken allowing me to peek inside beyond the metal bars that forbidden my entrance.

Bending over I look inside, seeing that it was, indeed, full of gardening tools, gardening forks and shovels, hose, boots, even a rusty saw that was exposed to the weather by a hole on the roof.

But what attracted me the most was the axe and the hammer to the side, hidden in the dark and far from any rain and sun.

A rare smile makes its way to my face as I go back to the front, and with a quick glance behind me I force the door open, pulling it slowly...

Only to end up with the door on my hand, hanging weightless as the place where the wood used to connect falls down with a loud bang, followed by growls and gurgling excited sounds from behind me.

Oh well, I guess I may have the chance to test things out it seems… Thanks to a rotten door and bulging werewolf force.



Thanks for the patience readers! Had a minor writer block with this story but I hopefully will not encounter it again hehe.

BTW what those falling walls count mean I wonder…