by Jack Parker
However, the shrieking cry of the infected had made the house seem alive as the sound of movement from upstairs came to our ears. Drawing my handgun, I approached the bottom of the stairs as another infected came into view. Lining up my sights as quickly as I could, I let off a couple of shots, one piercing the chest of the infected.
Like a rag doll, the infected went completely limp as it tumbled down the stairs, I jumped to the side to avoid it as it finally reached the bottom and slid across the tiled floor for a couple of feet where it lay completely motionless.
The house was silent, so quiet in fact that I could hear muffled talking coming from the middle house as the group talked amongst themselves, probably about the gunshots I had just let off.
A minute later, John came bursting through the front door, looking at the two of us before his gaze fell on the corpse on the floor. He let out a sigh of relief as his eyes moved to the gun in my hand.
"Jesus..shook me the hell up." he breathed, holding his hand to his chest. There were a few specks of blood on his cheek, which I noticed as I examined him, standing in silence with the gun still in my hand, sword in the other.
"I take it there were infected in your house too?" I remarked, pocketing my handgun to point at his cheek, which he promptly began to rub at with a piece of tissue paper.
"Just one. Have you checked upstairs?" John said, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at Claire, who slowly moved her knife behind her back as if she didn't want him to know that she'd put down an infected.
"Not yet. Just about to." Claire stated, taking the words right out of my mouth.
"I'll come with you." John said casually, waving his kukri around in the air a little as he spoke, the blood still glistening along its edge.
"We can deal with it ourselves!" Claire exclaimed, surprising me. What was with this sudden change in her personality? Was she starting to adapt to the world around her at last?
"I'm sure you can, but I'm coming just to be sure." John said sternly, stepping over the corpse on the floor as he approached us.
"Fine by me." I said quietly, setting foot on the bottom-most step as I began to slowly ascend the flight of stairs, gun at the ready. John seemed a little miffed that he wasn't going first, but he'd have to get over it.
There couldn't be many more left in here.
Scanning the corridor, I saw no signs of life as we each made our way to different rooms on the top floor. John took the master bedroom, Claire the spare bedroom and I checked the bathroom. There was nothing to be seen in any of these rooms.
Several hours later, after we'd eaten what canned food we could find in the houses, cooking it all on a little fire in the back garden of the middle house. We all decided to sleep in different houses.
Shaun was sleeping alone in the right-hand house, while Annie, Steve and Nick were in the middle house and myself, Claire and John were in the left-hand house, staying in the master bedroom while I took the spare one.
My sleep was haunted as I expected, lost in a haze of fog and trees. Dave stared at me, demanding to know why it all had to happen to him. I couldn't bring myself to answer him. Everything went red for a second as a demented figured appeared between the two of us, it's face bearing fangs and its eyes burning red.
I awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, my eyes adjusting to the darkness as they began to register that I was not alone. There was someone standing over me as I slept. A slender figure that could only be Claire.
"Ethan.." she said slowly, gazing at me as I sat bolt upright in my bed. I couldn't see her face, but I knew she was looking straight into my eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Day Fifteen (4th January – 2:23AM)
All was silent for a minute. Sitting there, I gazed at the distinctive silhouette that belonged to Claire. I raised my hand to my face and let out a sigh.
Was she watching me sleep?
The sound of birds tweeting and cawing could be heard from beyond the house. Owls hooting to each other in the distance. All that could be heard in the room however, was breathing. Not a single word had been said yet, and I felt compelled to break the unnerving silence.
"What's going on?" I said groggily, trying to shake the urge to just curl back up on the bed and go straight back to sleep.
"Nothing. I wanted to talk, but you were having some kind of nightmare, and I couldn't wake you up." Claire responded, pulling out a box of matches.
Striking one, she placed it to a candle on the bedside table, where a flame grew steadily higher until the room was filled with a gentle, warm light.
"It couldn't wait until the morning? What if John wakes up?" I questioned, feeling my face form a puzzled expression.
"He sleeps like a log, there's no waking him up once he's gone." she said, sitting down at the edge of the bed. From through the wall, I thought I heard the sound of somebody snore loudly, before all was quiet once more.
I didn't doubt what she said, but still found myself concerned that John would awaken. Then, discovering his sister missing from the room, he would venture into this one. It was a rather compromising situation, and I didn't really feel like facing John's scrutiny, given how protective he was over his sibling.
"So, what's up?" I asked, stifling a yawn as candle began to emit actual heat, which filled the room very slowly.
"I wanted to continue our conversation." Claire said, her tone and words being very straightforward.
"Really? What's left to discuss? And why are you even awake?" I quizzed her, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
"I couldn't sleep. And I don't think you've said all you want to." she admitted, giving me a piercing look that reminded me of John. That feeling of X-Ray vision washing over me. I hated it when people could read me, as though I were a book.
I keep myself to myself, that's just how I am.
Explaining my feelings was out of my comfort zone.
"I've just been thinking about all the talks me and Dave have had." I said, sighing quietly as I finished my sentence.
"And?" Claire asked briefly. I felt as though I were in a therapy session.
"I keep coming back to a conversation we had, days back when all of this was starting." I continued, my thoughts going back to the second day, visualising the events of that day.
"What was it?" she enquired. Honestly, I thought Claire would have made a good therapist. Better than an assassin, anyway. She didn't seem to have the nerve for that particular job, unlike her brother.
"We were trying to get past a truck that was blocking the road, so we went through an office building, same day we met you guys. But before that, he told me something." I recounted as I suddenly felt quite sad. It was understandable to feel like this, I suppose. We had bonded a fair amount.
"Yeah?" she said, quizzing me for more.
"He wanted me to kill him while he was still him, if he ever got infected." I said, hearing Dave's words play through my head. They seemed so real, that for a moment I was convinced that he was in the room with us.
"And how do you feel about that?" Claire asked, leaning forwards on the bed. She was growing uncomfortably close. I really wasn't used to this 'social interaction' thing, especially when it came to saying how I felt.
"I feel as though I've let him down. I mean, I still put him down like I said I would, but it was too late." I admitted, spilling out the feelings that were toying with my mind.
Oh, how I've changed recently.
"I'm sure he'd be happy that you did it before he hurt anyone else." Claire said, trying her hardest to comfort me. It was no use, really. There seemed like a massive distance between the two of us, as though I could barely hear her.
"Is there anything that you want to talk about?" I asked curiously, feeling as though I'd played my part.
"Nothing that wouldn't be just repeating myself. You sleep well, Ethan." she said, standing up from the bed. She gave me a strange look that I failed to identify as she slid out of the room. I heard John grunt in his sleep as she e
ntered the master bedroom. And just like that, she was gone.
After putting out the candle, I flopped back onto the bed, turning onto my side and curling up somewhat in the covers, clinging to the duvet. I'd better not mention this to anyone, lest they suspect something was going on between the two of us.
I really wasn't in the mood for that conversation; I wasn't even the romantic type. While everyone was off clubbing and dating, I sat in my apartment and played games with people I'd never even met. Sure, my friends dragged me out every now and then to hang out, but I was no master of the social side of life.
The conversation had brought up all the memories again, and I found my head swimming with thoughts, feelings and ideas. I felt as though I were in a cinema, watching my life on a screen. Slowly, but surely, I fell back to sleep, my body slowly sinking into the memory-foam mattress.
The next morning, I awoke to the sensation of being shook. Opening my eyes, I saw John standing over me as Claire pulled the curtains open. The light was almost blinding as it filled the room.
"Jesus.. Isn't there a better way to wake someone up?" I groaned, vividly reminded of being woken up as a kid by my mother pulling the curtains open. I bit my lip and swallowed hard; I hadn't thought about my mother once this whole time.
She was in a better place than me, I'm sure.
I wondered if my father was still alive and well, back in the dingy little town I grew up in. He was always the fighting type, so it wouldn't have surprised me if he was still kicking somewhere, bashing infected heads together. I chuckled at the thought and sat up in a memory induced daze.
I was almost expecting to hear the calls of father, along with the smell of toast and a nice fry-up. My family had been a lot nicer back in those days.
My mother had died when I was only a little kid, barely eight years old. Every now and then, I was reminded of her warm smile and carefree nature, the polar opposite of my overly-serious father, who had been a lot nicer back in those days.
"Ethan! Rise and shine!" I heard a voice call as I found myself visiting warmer memories. Lost in nostalgia, I felt a sharp pain in my chest as my eyes watered up slightly. It was always painful to remember these things.
Her passing changed my father. He grew distant and bitter, with a touch of sarcasm. I felt as though he could barely stand to look at me and my brother. I suppose it was understandable, we probably reminded him of her, and that must have been very painful.
"Ethan?" John called, waving his hand in front of my face. I'd seemingly slipped into a little trance as I remembered my past.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. What's for breakfast?" I said, stretching out my arms and letting out a loud yawn.
"Beans, lots of beans, maybe some spaghetti. Here, put these on, they look like they should fit you." John said, throwing me a rather thick hoodie, a shirt and a pair of jeans that he'd found in the chest of drawers opposite the bed.
I was in dire need of a change of clothes. The two of them left me alone to change into them. Giving the shirt a brief sniff, I could almost make out the scent of fabric softener, they'd been washed rather recently. I happily slid into the fresh clothes.
The infection must've hit them not so long ago.
Sliding into my jacket, which I'd laid on the floor beside the bed, I made my way downstairs to the smell of beans and pasta. The scent filled the hallway leading up to the stairs.
God, how I missed bacon.
I was rather taken aback as I entered the kitchen to see Claire cooking on what looked like a portable stove. It seemed as though the former residents of this house had been avid campers. This was fortunate for us, having lost all of our camping supplies.
The rest of the group had gathered in the dining area and were seated around a rectangular, wooden table. Shaun's map was spread across the centre of it, and himself and John had their eyes locked on a certain part.
"There could be a vehicle here." John said, pointing down to a part of the map that I couldn't make out.
"So you think we should go here instead of the motorway? That's quite a diversion." Shaun asked, drawing a line in pencil across the map.
"Think about it, I know I'd rather be in a car than out there, walking." John interjected, thinking about our safety as a group.
"That's true. What do you think, Ethan?" Shaun asked me, looking up from the map to give me a quick, serious look.
"Hmn?" I mumbled, walking over to the two of them, positioning myself behind their chairs.
"This place here, it's a scrapyard and vehicle hire facility." Shaun said, pointing to a square area on the map.
"Looks alright to me, it's quite a walk though." I said, pointing to the little circle that marked where we currently were, dragging my finger across the map to the scrapyard.
"It'll be worth it if we find a car, or a minibus!" John piped up, crossing his arms across his chest, which he puffed out slightly.
He was right, the concept of finding a safe vehicle was more than welcome in our current situation. It was just a matter of finding time. On our current course, we'd only barely make it. Though if we found a vehicle, we'd have time to spare.
"That's settled then, we'll go to the scrapyard. Now where's that breakfast, dear?" Shaun stated, glancing over at Claire, who was preoccupied with dishing out beans and spaghetti hoops into some bowls she'd found.
We ate merrily and discussed our options with the rest of the group as we sat around the table. Everyone seemed to agree that finding a vehicle was the wisest choice. Without one, we were completely exposed to the dangers of the outside world. Though I doubted that we'd be able to just drive through the city, it would be full of obstacles just like the one we'd come from.
A couple of hours later, we were on the forest trail again, weaving through the various types of trees and foliage that littered the ancient pathway. On our backs were the supplies and tents we'd found in the houses. There weren't enough for one each, but we'd have to make do with what we had.
"Hold up, hear that?" Shaun said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. I listened intently, hearing only the tweeting of birds. And then, I heard something snap, followed by incomprehensible grumbling. From behind the trees came the sight of a couple of men, swiping their arms through the air.
Infected, out here in the middle of nowhere?
"Heads down, ladies and gentlemen." John hissed, ducking down into a crouching position along with the rest of the group, who cast worried looks at each other.
"Danger, be cautious." Nick mumbled to himself, casting a strange look towards me as I stared at him. Nick interested me, we didn't know much about him besides the fact that he'd come from some sort of medical facility. I remembered earlier when he'd been staring at the fire of the cookers, he seemed entranced by it.
John began to move through the trees with his weapon in hand, ducking in and out of sight as he approached the infected as quietly as he could. A moment later, there was a pained shout as he dispatched the first infected, drawing the attention of the second, who began to claw at John. Seemingly oblivious to the pain, John kicked the second infected back and slashed at it until it crumpled to the ground and moved no more.
"Well, shall we?" John sang, twitching in pain as he dabbed the cut on his chin with a piece of tissue.
"Woah, are you okay?" Shaun asked worriedly, examining the cut briefly.
"I'll be fine, I've been bitten by one of these things and nothing happened." John said, putting the tissue back into his pocket as we began to move in unison once more.
"Oh right, you're immune. I forgot about that. Lucky for some." Shaun said, tightening his grip on the rifle in his arms.
We walked for a couple more hours, having found a little road that cut through the forest. According to the map, this road led up to the scrapyard, which wasn't that far ahead now.
"I think I can see it." Shaun mumbled, pointing ahead to a fenced-off enclosure. It looked like a rather large scrapyard, and I could almost make out a stack of scrap cars as we drew
closer to the facility.
The road forked a little bit to reach the entrance of the scrapyard. Approaching the pair of fence-gates that sealed the area off from the public, we stopped to take a little breather.
"I'm praying there's a bus in there. God knows we need the space." John said, sighing lightly as we all caught our breath. We'd been walking for hours again.
"I don't think our luck is that good, John." Shaun remarked, examining the gates, which didn't appear to be locked.
"Still, it'd be great!" John sang, wiping the blood from his kukri on a stray piece of clothing that lay on the dusty ground.