Apocalipstick (Hell in a Handbag Book 1) by Lisa Acerbo (best motivational books for students .TXT) 📕

to my family too, but I’m thankful you are all my new family now. I would be dead if the group hadn’t found me. I’m sure of it. I’m trying to enjoy the little things like Cat and the horses. Keeps me going when stuff like this happens.”

“That’s why Eric’s death was so hard. It was like losing my family all over again. I’m not letting another person die.” He shook his head, exorcising demons. “Tell me more about the horses. I see you working with them.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to harness them to the wagon. I found all the stuff needed in a shed but have no idea how to make it work. I wish there was internet or at least a book somewhere on the subject, but no.”

“You’ll have to go riding with me soon.”

“I’d love too. The horses are so well behaved. Someone obviously owned them at one time. What have you been doing to keep busy?”

“I’ve been working with Peter and John on alternative fuel sources for the inn. A gasifier is great but needs constant attention and burns so much wood. We must replenish our supplies daily. Peter’s also wants to create a wind turbine at the inn and we’re scouting for solar panels in nearby areas. It takes time. Most are too damaged to use, but if his ideas work, you’ll never run out of hot water or heat.”

“Sounds wonderful and amazing. I love my hot showers.”

“There you go again, putting images into my brain.”

“Stop it.”

Was he flirting with her?

“Can’t help myself.”

The long but uneventful ride returned them to the dreaded car pile-up, but after exiting Pittsfield already, it was easy to navigate through.

Jenna’s palms began to sweat when the two entered the city. She didn’t want to lose Quentin, but she was also risking a lot coming for the antibiotics. Time gardening at the inn had given her a false sense of security. This was reality. She had to remain hard and ready to kill.

Driving along Main Street, finding a drug store wasn’t difficult. The ransacked building sat on the corner, dark and seemingly empty. Caleb cut the engine and Jenna grabbed a shotgun from the back seat before slinging it over her shoulder. A 22-inch machete and a 12-inch bowie knife cradled her belt.

Caleb grabbed for a shotgun. Instead of knives, his weapon of choice was a large, wooden, baseball bat. They listened and Caleb scanned the area through the open windows. When he gave her a thumbs up, they exited the car, leaving the doors slightly ajar for a quick escape.

The drugstore, with broken windows and a battered front door, was a mess. The dim beam of their flashlights created eerie shadows on the walls and floor. Jenna prayed the light would not attract the attention of unwanted visitors.

Easy to steal items were long gone. Jenna had hoped for left-over sweets, but little merchandise remained on the long-toppled racks What survivors hadn’t looted the vermin finished off. Jenna focused on finding the lifesaving medicines. Living day to day for years had taught her and the group to never pass a chance at any new supplies.

Nothing was insignificant.

The duo combed through the shelves along the route to the pharmacy in the back. They kicked aside debris and turned over discarded boxes, searching for anything of use.

“It appears safe enough. Let’s split up to search the last rows and meet at the pharmacy in five,” Jenna said.

“You sure you want to go it alone?”

“We’ll get out quicker.”

The store remained secretive, cloaked in darkness. Heading in the opposite direction, Jenna’s flashlight licked the floor.

Out of the darkness a sudden shriek pinned her to the floor. Within a heartbeat, Caleb drew to her side, faster than humanly possible. With a hard shove, she stumbled through a swinging door that separated the pharmacy. She righted herself and glared.

“Find what you need. I’ll worry about whatever is out here,” he said, hauling the bat into position.

She found the mostly empty bins and began rummaging through bottles, looking at different drug names. Not one of the labels sounded familiar. How was she supposed to find antibiotics in this mess?

Take everything.

She threw vials, bottles, and cardboard boxes into the drawstring bag.

Two Streakers rambled toward Caleb. He dropped the bat, aiming the gun. A rally of shots puckered the undead’s faces before splatter hit the walls and floor.

She returned to her search, reading the generic drug names, not one of them sounding like the needed prescription. Out of an abundance of caution, she packed every medicine.

Who knew when you might need something?

She fumbled with a large container, the exterior print reading amoxicillin, something prescribed to her for strep throat.

“Got it.” She swept whatever else was in the vicinity into the bag. “Let’s go!”

They didn’t get far. It emerged from the recesses. Shielded by the inky blackness dominating the store, Jenna couldn’t fathom the Streaker’s size or shape.

She stared at the stunted, hunched figure. Shadow and hair covering its features. That didn’t stop the demonic moan calling for additional undead to join the party.

Not what they needed.

Caleb approached, bat in hand. Jenna pulled the drawstring bag on like a backpack before covering him with her firearm.

All the while, piteous, high-pitched moans crowded the tight space. The Streaker edged along the dark aisle, closing the distance.

Too close for comfort.

“Do you want me to shoot it?” she asked.

“Hold tight for as long as you can. I don’t want the gunfire to become an invitation. I’d like to make it to the exit without the arrival of more Streakers. Let me try to quiet this moaning banshee first before you use your gun.”

Jenna tracked the figure with her flashlight.

Wrong move.

Noticing the light, the undead’s pace quickened. Its head shot up and for the first time, Jenna could see its face in the flashlight beams. She reeled back.

A child. A small girl younger than her at the time when the pandemic craziness started.

Long-dried blood smeared the rose-embroidered dress. Vacant eyes held no