by Levi Doone
I then look to the door and listen. It’s silent. I walk slowly and carefully toward it. Did my former foster parents leave? I’m a few inches from it when I reached my hand to the doorknob. As my fingers grip the knob, it rattles. I freeze for a second. Then a slow hissing sound followed by an awful moan comes from the other side.
My gut twists in knots as I crouch then lie down and put my head to the floor. Looking under the door, I see two pair of feet. Roger must’ve joined Ellen as an undead. I scamper backward and my knee hits the floor hard. The sound it makes causes the creatures to start pounding and scratching on the door.
I stand and think of how to escape. Moving to one window then the other, trying to decide if jumping is a possibility. The pounding now shakes the door. It won’t be long before they break it down.
I decide the window facing the backyard will be safest because it’s directly over the basement bulkhead. The other window is over the cement steps to the side door. Thin metal beats cement. I open the window and look down at the bulkhead and figured I should see about finding something I can use as a rope. Searching my room, I find nothing strong or long enough. Then I look to the ceiling.
Yes! That’s it!
My room’s ceiling has a hatch with a fold-out ladder to the attic. I stand on my desk to pull the cord to open the hatch. When I have the ladder unfolded, I climb up. The attic is completely dark. After searching a few moments for the light switch, I turn it on.
Nothing. Power must be out. I climb back down the steps and grab my clock radio before going back into the attic. It has a battery backup, so the red digital display will hopefully be enough to illuminate the space.
Zombie Roger and Zombie Ellen seem to be getting louder and more violent. The door won’t be able to hold them out much longer, so I close the hatch. I thought it was dark when it was open. Now that it’s closed, I see how much darker it can get.
The attic is a small space, and I have to kneel so I won’t hit my head on the wooden beams or get stabbed by nails coming through the roof. Sitting with my legs folded, I really take in what’s happening to me.
Mindless zombies have taken over the world, my brother is missing, and I’ve been chased into an attic. If my foster zombies break through the door, I’ll be stuck here for who knows how long. Could this be the end of me?
No! Stop thinking like that!
But how am I to think? This is the truth. I’m not exaggerating the situation. I could die in this dusty, dark attic.
Think of Luke, stupid. If he comes home, he’ll be attacked by the creatures at my door. I have to listen for him so I can warn him before he steps into this nightmare.
So that’s what I do to keep my mind occupied and myself from freaking out. I also listen for the zombies at my door. They seem to quiet down a bit. I can still hear them moaning, but they’ve gone back to only scratching at the door. Apparently, if I’m out of sound, sight, or, I assume, smell, then I’m out of their undead mind.
I’ve always hated the dark. It’s depressing and scary when you’re alone. It plays tricks with your mind, making things seem hopeless, especially when they are. I’ve always had a nightlight in my room when I sleep. Yeah, I know. I’m fourteen with a nightlight. So what? I like to be able to see my surroundings when my eyes are open. Luke used to make jokes about it and laugh at me. Where is that jerk? I sure miss him.
My mind keeps going back into the despair of my reality. I need to keep busy with something. I pick up the clock radio and turn it on. Maybe somewhere out there’s a station that’s still in operation. I turn the selector nob and move from one end of the row of stations to the other, hearing nothing but static. I repeat back and forth, slower and slower, hoping to find anything. I’d be happy with a message from the Emergency Broadcast System, but I find nothing.
Realizing I’ve only checked the FM dial, I switch to AM with renewed hope. I move up and up on the stations, when I finally hear a voice speaking. A girl’s voice, and she sounds young, like around my age, and tough like this isn’t the first horrible thing she’s experienced in her life. She speaks plainly about what’s going on. “Everything has all gone to crap. Freaking dead people are everywhere, going after us living people. Get as far away from those things as you can. That’s how I got stuck in this radio station. I was chased in here. The place had only one ghoul in it, so I locked him in a closet and barricaded it. One zombie is way easier to handle than the twenty or so outside.”
I was so glad to hear someone else’s voice that I forgot for a second my situation. She continued. “I sure hope there are people out there that can hear me yackin’ away. If there aren’t, then I’m just talkin’ to myself, and that would be crazy. So I’m just gonna assume I have an audience.
“Let me introduce myself again for those who may be just tuning in. I’m Avril Corine and I don’t live far from this station. When things hit the fan and my foster parents tried to eat me for lunch, I took off and ended up here. The dead are all over the place here, so stay away from downtown Woonsocket. Stay away from any areas where a lot of people are, because they’re all zombies now. Unless you have a tank or a copter. In that case, I sure would appreciate a lift outta here.
“Here’s the 4-1-1 on the undead that I figured out in my run for my life. They’re slow, like old people with walkers slow, so it’s easy to outrun them. They’re stupid and clumsy also. Their strength is they’re relentlessness, plus their vast numbers. Once they see you, they won’t stop ‘til they get you, and other ghouls will join in on the chase. They won’t attack each other; they’ll just all go for the prize—a living, breathing human like you or me. The farther you run, the more that will follow, and once you find a place to hide, the suckers will wait for you. Stay out of sight and don’t let them hear you or they’ll get aroused and start beating down the door and walls.
“Well, that’s all I got for now. This station runs on a generator, so I’ve got to conserve the fuel. I’ll be back on air tonight, say nine, for another hour or so. So if anybody’s out there and wants to hear my babble, talk to ya then.”
Once static replaces Avril, I turn off the radio and remove the batteries so the digital display won’t drain them. Then I listened for zombies Roger and Ellen. I hear nothing. They seem to have calmed down. I then think of Avril’s words and warnings. It’s all stuff I already knew, but it helps me to remain calm to know I’m not alone in being trapped. Who knows how many people out there are in our predicament? It’s like they say: misery loves company, and I sure am miserable.
I think of something Avril said that sent off a flare in my mind. She mentioned she had foster parents. Coincidence perhaps, but I’m gonna assume it isn’t. I’m also not so foolish to think simply being a foster kid is enough to become immune to the zombie pandemic. No, I think it must have to do with how we became fostered. Something we encountered in our past that made us unaffected by the asteroid’s poison. Maybe we both ate the same brand of cereal for breakfast.
The more I think about it, the more being foster kids seems like a coincidence. Whatever. It kept my mind busy and off my present situation, which I realize I need to get back to and make a decision.
I think of the reason I came up here in the first place—to find a rope of some sort. I go on all fours and searched with my hands and a little with my eyes as they’ve adjusted to the darkness and can make out some shapes. I find some boxes, open one and feel round, light objects with hooks on them, Christmas decorations. I dig deeper and feel a rolled-up cord, Christmas lights.
Yes, that’ll do it. I pull the lights out of the box and go back to my spot by the hatch. I sit and unravel the string. Measure five arm lengths, which I figure to be about ten feet. Should be enough to hang out my window and get me to the ground without breaking something. Now all I need is to muster up some courage and go back into my room and out the window.
Chapter Seven
Bravery has never been my thing. The closest example would be going to the bathroom after on
e of Luke’s long sitting sessions. So instead, I decide desperation will have to do. I know I’m on my own. Luke’s been gone way too long, and I don’t want to stay trapped like Avril.
Yup, I certainly am desperate. I slowly open the hatch and its creak disturbs the silence enough to cause my captors to resume the scratching and moaning.
I quickly climb down and start looking for something to tie the Christmas lights to, something close to the window. The bed is up against the door and I’m not about to move it. My desk doesn’t have any bars to wrap the cord around. I look into my closet and see the wooden rod my clothes hang on. That would work, but the closet’s too far from the window.
That’s when I have a moment of eureka-ness in my brain. I pull my clothes off the wooden dowel and pop it out of its brackets. The noise I make excites Ma and Pa Zombie, and they proceed to pound and slam up against my door. Lucky for me, the undead apparently can’t work a doorknob, but I’m afraid the door might come off its hinges at any moment.
I quickly put the rod across the window. It overlaps the opening by about a foot on either side. Good, it’ll work. It has to work.
I tie the electrical cord to the dowel and tie a fist-sized mess knot. My door pops open, but my bed keeps it from opening more than a few inches. Zombie Roger’s creepy glowing eyes look into mine. Fear shoots down my spine like an electric current.
I shut my eyes to think for a second. Shoes, I need shoes.
I grab a pair of sneakers and throw them out the window. I’ll put them on when I get out of this house. I put one leg out and lean. In one hand, I hold the bar and the other I wrap around the electrical cord. I sit on the sill and sling out my other leg. Propping the bar across the opening, I lean forward.
Smash! The zombies are in. I don’t look. Instead, I let go of the bar once I have enough tension on the cord to hold it in place. I grab the sill with my hand and lower myself to hang from the window. My other hand is wrapped in the cord and tightens as I try to lower myself.
I didn’t think this through. My hand is stuck in the cord. I try to raise myself with the other hand and loosen the cord, but as I do, Roger appears and grabs my hand on the windowsill. He tries to bite me, but the bar holds him back.
I just panic. I mean, I really freak out. Roger starts to lift my hand off the sill toward his mouth. I flail and kick myself away from the house. Just as I pull my hand from Roger’s grip, I hear a snap. I fall butt first onto the bulkhead.
I don’t feel anything, though. Must be the adrenalin high I’m experiencing. I scramble to my feet, untangle my hand, and grab my shoes. The cloud of orange dust I kicked up makes me start coughing. I jog away from the house and look up at the window. Zombie Roger is hanging out with his eyes fixed on me.
I grab my sneakers and run around to the street to sit on the curb to put on my shoes. Yeow, I feel my butt now, and man did I do a number on it. I slip my feet into the shoes just before I hear a loud smashing sound. Roger must have made it out the window. Better move.
I stand and look around to decide what to do and where to go. The neighbors across the street, the Andersons, are friends of Roger and Ellen and are of similar age. Maybe they’re okay like me. I run, slipping on dust, but I manage to stay on my feet. When I get to the Andersons’s front door, I let out a loud cough, trying to get the dust particles out of my lungs.
Roger and Ellen are still in their yard, but they’re coming for me at the slow pace Avril mentioned. It’s still terrifying.
I ring the doorbell and pound on the door. “Hello? Please help me!”
I hear something moving inside. “Please, open the door! They’re after me!”
To the left of the door is a narrow window. I look inside and see orange eyes looking back at me. I leap back and fall down the front steps. A crashing noise resonates from the house. The zombified Mrs. Anderson tumbles out the picture window.
I scamper back and jump to my feet, hurrying to get away. When I glance back, I find Mrs. Zombie Anderson with shards of glass sticking out of her chest, shoulders, and face as she ambles after me, but she isn’t bleeding. Mr. Zombie Anderson comes face first out the same window.
I meet back with Ellen as I get to the road, and see she has a gash across her head. It glows orange but doesn’t ooze. The things don’t bleed! How do you fight something that doesn’t even bleed?
I can feel myself start to panic, so I run as fast as I can toward the adjoining street, which is a sort of main road. Once I get there, I try to stop abruptly, but I slide halfway across the street and end up on my butt again. The pain from my previous injury shoots up my spine, and I curse the dust.
“Dust is very slippery, so try to remember, stupid.” I look behind me and see my four pursuers are just getting off their lawns and onto the street. “Okay, Avril, your right again. They’re very slow.” I decide to walk swiftly toward Pine Swamp Road. Once I get there, I take a right. A left will take me into Woonsocket and, as Avril mentioned, more zombies.
The road I walk on has few houses and is mostly wooded. Less houses, less zombies. As I walk, I try to decide where to go. I want to find Luke, but Chloe’s is on the other end of Cumberland. I figure I’ll head that way and maybe find help. The police station is on the way. If there’s one place I can find some help, it’ll be there.
Chapter Eight
I walk for what seems like forever. When I walk, I think, and right now, I don’t want to think. The obvious questions are running through my head, like what if Luke didn’t make it to Chloe’s or did make it and didn’t make it back? What if he turned into one of those things? Chances are something happened to him, but what?
No lea, stop it. Stop the ‘what-if’ questions. Luke is all right. He has to be. He’s at Chloe’s and they’re holed up there. I’m going to the police station, and they’ll help me get to my bro and rescue him and Chloe. Everything will be okay. They’ll then take us to a safe spot where we’ll be protected.
Yeah, I know. It sounds farfetched, but I need to feel it’s all possible. I need hope. My emotions are in a state of flux, and if I stop to consider reality, I think I’ll break down. I mean crawl into a ball in the middle of this street and just lose all control. I have to hit the pause button on my brain and concentrate on the moment.
I turn to check on my pursuers. Pine Swamp Road is a long straightaway with few turns, unlike most of the winding roads in the Blackstone Valley, so I can still see the zombies. They seem to have found company as well. I count ten of the beasts hungry for my flesh and shudder at the thought.
I look forward with the feeling of incredible loneliness. Walking in the middle of a usually well-traveled road without any cars, trucks, or bikes flying by will do that to a person. I suppose it would be appropriate to say it’s dead out here.
I finally come to a fork and turn right. Diamond Hill State Park is coming up on the left. I travel on past it and come to a neighborhood on my right. It’s a small development made up of several side streets with one-story cookie-cutter houses. I walk faster as I remember Avril’s warning to beware of places where people reside. Where there are people is where the zombies are.
I’m halfway through the development when I hear the loud sound of shattering glass from a house I’m in front of. A zombie woman starts crawling out of a bay window with her eyes fixed on me. Startled, I begin to run with caution so as not to fall on my aching butt.
Just get me outta this place!
I rush away and nearly run right into a group of the moaning undead. I slide to a stop but stay standing and run back to the she-zombie. When I arrive at her house, she’s there along with the rest of her family. Others from the surrounding houses are either already outside, crawling out their windows, or smashing their way out. It’s a chain reaction brought on by little ol’ me.
My stomach sinks as I run past them. I’m heading back the way I came and know more of the same is coming for me up ahead. I have to get off the road, away from every one of these things.
&nbs
p; Diamond Hill is perfect. I can lose them on the hill and woods there.
I arrive and run into the deteriorated parking lot, only to find more zombies coming at me from the park.
Oh crap! I didn’t figure on this. I turn to find on both corners of the parking lot two groups of zombies have caught up with me. I’m out of places to run and ideas.
I feel like just crying and giving up. This is impossible to get out of, and even if I do, I’ll just get into trouble at the next turn. But I can’t surrender and die. My bro is out there and might need help, so I have to find help for him and myself. This can’t be all that’s left of the planet. Not to mention, I’m not keen on the idea of being eaten alive. That’s probably really gotta hurt. I’m just sayin’.
So with renewed spirit, I search the area beyond the mobs closing in. I see a stage in front of a manmade pond. A small bridge over a stream leads to it and is clear of ghouls. I just have to make it past the row of zombies that is tightening as they get closer.
I stop thinking and run to the bridge. I come to the line of undead and fly past it. I feel an arm brush against me, but I’m too fast for it to grab me. I make it on the bridge and turn to see the reaction.
Zombies begin adjusting their bodies to pursue me. Every eye is fixed on mine. A sharp bolt of fear shoots up my spine, and I just want to get the heck out of there.
I run across the bridge and onto the stage and head stage right to exit and be free to make for the hill. No sooner do I look right than I see a group of zombies making it my way. I turn for the direction I came and see the creatures just stepping onto the bridge. At the back of the stage stands a small structure with two doors. I tried them, but they’re locked. I try to kick in one door, but it won’t budge.