Take a deep breath, Sean, he repeated in his mind as he took another few steps towards the shed. You’re back home. You are not in Syria anymore. Suddenly, he heard it again.
Scratch. Pause. Scratch. Groan. Scratch.
This time, he stopped and took a slower look at his surroundings.
Scratch.
His ears were alert as he shuffled a little forward.
Groan.
What was that? He wished he had his guns.
Scratch.
He turned to look at his neighbor’s fence, but it was intact and seemed perfectly fine. He took a step forward.
Groan.
Sean reached his hand out to touch the fence. It shook violently like it was electric and had jolted to life. He stopped and gently pushed the fence, and it shook wildly again.
“Hello?” he called out.
Groan.
There was a hole in the fence which his daughter, Kate, had made when she was nine. She was eleven now, and they still hadn’t fixed it. Sean looked through the hole and saw a figure hunched over. He dropped his guard and crouched down.
“Are you all right?” he asked the figure.
It was Jon, his neighbor. The man said nothing, and instead, groaned again. He was wearing long denim overalls with rubber boots and a red and black checked shirt. It was wet and ripped. He groaned again.
“Jon, are you okay?” he asked again, but there was nothing. Sean sighed and rubbed his forehead. He didn’t know what to do. “I’m here to help.”
Jon lazily raised his head. His dilated eyes stared right into Sean’s soul. Sean stepped back in a hurry. The man in front of him wasn’t his neighbor but a monster.
He had to get to his crumbling shed and get a weapon. What the fuck? he thought to himself repeatedly.
Sean unlocked the shed and grabbed his knives from the dusty shelves before safely securing them to his person. When his pocketed were full of all the weapons he could carry, he pulled the shed door open a crack.
Sean could hear Jon groaning again and scratching at the fence. Occasionally, he would shake the fence in frustration. Then a new sound came. Sean looked up to see Jon’s kids smacking their bloodied fists on the window glass panes and screaming. They weren’t screaming words. They were frightening sounds, like a high-pitched gravelly tone straight from a horror film.
Blood dribbled down the window, and Sean could hear soft cracking. The windows wouldn’t last forever. The kids tried harder, but the glass stayed together. The figures stopped for a moment before whacking their heads against the panes.
Sean stepped back, amazed at the disturbing scene. They repeatedly smashed their skulls against the glass, the glass cracking even further.
Sean pulled his focus away from the children long enough to get back into his house. Sweat poured off him as he caught his breath. What he’d seen didn’t seem real. It was like the old Flash Gordon movie had come to life around him, and he got stuck right in the middle.
He pulled his phone out. His family photo was the screen saver. Levi was laughing, Kate was pulling a face, and Claire was smiling. He hoped they were safe, and Sean typed furiously to Claire.
<
He hit send and shut his phone off. He had to get to the rendezvous point quickly. He’d had many missions before, but nothing quite like this one. Ready with his gear, he swept up the car keys and headed outside.
The street was filled with sleepwalking figures. There were people everywhere, all shapes and sizes. Their street was normally empty, and he’d only ever see a handful of people each day walking by his house to get their newspaper.
Sean approached his car quietly, and no one had seen him. He unlocked the door but was interrupted as he opened the door to climb inside. A man rushed towards him, and Sean knew he had to fight, or he could be infected, too.
As the man charged at him, Sean swung at his chin. He landed a knockout punch, dropping the man to the ground.
You messed with the wrong man!
Sean jumped into his car and jammed the keys in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and he shoved his foot down. The car zipped out the driveway and down the street as a cluster of lumbering figures chased closely after him.
Chapter Five
The birds sang outside Harry’s window, and all he wanted was for them to be quiet. He valued his sleep, and the constant chirping outside was not a good start to his already shitty day. The sofa wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep on, but after the argument last night, he was just grateful he was sleeping indoors and under a decent blanket that covered most of his tall skinny frame.
Harry rolled over, grunting. He squinted at the clock on the table, making certain it read the right time. Groggily, he picked his watch off the floor and checked it to be sure. He was late for his paper round again.
With a hearty sigh, he lunged off the creaky sofa and pulled on any clothes his hands could find which happened to be a long sleeve baseball tee and his grey jeans. They didn’t smell too great, but Harry didn’t have time to care. He shoved them on as he hopped to the door. He couldn’t be late again.
Oliver and George would wait for him, and he couldn’t take the teasing his best friends dished out. Not today, not after the argument last night. Oliver would smart mouth him, giving him the exact time he had wasted down to the millisecond. George would probably be eating. No matter the time of day, George was likely eating.
The chilly morning air helped him wake up as he swung his leg over his bike which seemed to sit lower to the ground. He remembered he had forgotten to fill the tires with air before chaining it up the night before.
He moaned loudly and cursed up at the morning sky. Everything was going wrong so far, and it wasn’t even nine a.m. This was just his luck. Harry ran into the garage and got the pump before pumping a little air into his tires, just enough for this morning’s newspaper round.
Harry glanced back and saw the milk crate that teetered on the back, and he gently pushed it down on its mount. Even though he knew pushing it would do nothing, he did it anyway to make himself feel better.
He had to replace the aging red crate soon, but he was fond of it. He’d found it while hunting Pokémon in the park a year ago. Oliver and George were always jealous of his treasured lucky red milk crate, but Harry wasn’t about to give it up that easily.
He hopped onto his bike and pedaled as fast as possible toward the little corner shop where he would pick up the papers he would distribute around the neighborhood. Harry and his friends had been delivering the paper from this newsagent for as long as he could remember. It had given him a perfect excuse to get out of the house and hunt Pokémon with his friends.
His mom and dad never seemed to notice that sometimes his route would take all day because Harry had been out playing with Oliver and George. He liked his route. It wasn’t too long, and there were only had a few hills to cycle up. There were always plenty of new Pokémon to catch on the way.
As he cycled, he felt his brown shoulder-length hair lift from the back of his neck as it flowed in the cool morning breeze. He felt like a shampoo commercial, but the girls liked it so Harry didn’t complain.
After a short cycle, Harry turned onto the street the newsagent was on. Even though he was still a few minutes away, he could hear Oliver and George bickering already.
“No, no, no, no,” George whined. “That was the best part! The way he jumped on his prey was so fucking kick ass!”
“What the hell were you watching?” Oliver shot back.
They were arguing over a TV show from last night. Harry didn’t know the name, but he knew it was about monsters and aliens. Harry’s mom would never let him watch that kind of show. Sometimes he’d watch them when he was at his dad’s house, which felt like every day.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Oh, it was cool all right, but it wasn’t the best part.”
Harry shook his head and knew he had to break up the argument. He pushed his bike by his side and cursed the fact he hadn’t pumped up his tires more before he left. The boys could have waited for him, but he’d rushed. Another fuck up for Harry, but whatever, he thought to himself. He approached the other two and gave a small smile.
“You know I have no fuc—” he began as he plopped his bike on the ground so he could join in the argument.
“Don’t worry about being late, Harry. What you should be worrying about is us kicking your ass at collecting more Pokémon than you!” Oliver teased with a twinkle in his eye that made all the girls swoon. Well, he liked to think they swooned over him. They actually thought he had a nervous twitch.
Harry was in the lead on the Pokémon chase they played on their routes and after in the park. He had reached level twenty-two, but Oliver was close behind him on level twenty-one. George was well behind them, mainly because he often got distracted by his stomach when they hunted for Pokémon around the city.
George produced three Walnut Whips from his pocket. “I got us some fuel!” he said proudly.
George was on the heavier side of the weight scale, but Harry and Oliver didn’t really care. Normally, George would often bring them all “fuel” for their paper routes. Harry had been so late that morning that he had forgotten all about eating before he left home, and the sight of a Walnut Whip made his stomach growl impatiently.
Oliver took a chocolate from George’s chubby hand. “The calories in this thing are exuberant,” Oliver said. He was basically a smart ass, and he always liked to say smart things that usually annoyed George.
Harry just smiled big and wolfed down his chocolate quickly, grateful for however many calories there were in the Walnut Whip. The sweet and gooey inside perked Harry up, and now he was ready to deliver the papers and catch some Pokémon.
“Delicious though,” George responded with his mouth full of chocolate.
“Let’s meet at the park after to Pokémon hunt,” Oliver proposed.
Harry nodded in agreement. “Deal.”
George hopped onto his bike. “I’ll beat you there!” he yelled out as he sped off to his route.
“No way! I’m way faster!” Oliver added.
“Race you!” George called back to them. He had a head start, but Oliver would soon catch up because out of all of them, he was the fastest.
Oliver threw his wrapper away before pushing his bike toward his route. He set off fast, hoping to get his route done first. It was always a race to see who could complete theirs the fastest.
Harry usually came in last because he liked to collect different Pokémon on the way. He had found loads of different creatures as he cycled, and he enjoyed the confusion Oliver and George shared at his unbeatable lead. Harry couldn’t let Oliver catch up with him because he’d never hear the end of it if he did.
The others left Harry on the street corner alone as the dust settled from the other boys’ bikes. He picked his bike up and turned it toward his route before heading out he pulled out his phone. There was a text from Harry’s mom on the screen, and just looking at it annoyed him. His mom was an air hostess and had a habit of overreacting about everything.
Harry stayed with his dad whenever his mom went away for work. They had an argument the night before, for the second time that week, and Harry did not want to go back to his father’s house that night. He hated his mom for leaving him all the time with his dick of a dad, but at least he didn’t have to report everything to his dad, and he could be out of the house all weekend if he wanted.
He glanced at his mum’s messages.
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He deleted the notifications and opened to the Pokémon app.
Harry had to admit that his mom was being silly and overreacting. There was often fighting in the city, and people died a lot, but this was the cherry on top. He shook his head in disbelief. She was just being stupid. Nothing that ridiculous could happen, she was just watching TV and thought it was the news, he thought.
He pedaled slowly, looking at his route on the Pokémon app and stopping occasionally to collect a new creature here and there. Halfway through his route, Harry saw a rare one, and he giggled with excitement. He had hit the jackpot. This would help him keep the lead, and it would crush any hope of smartass Oliver beating him.
With some difficulty, he caught the beast and let out a victorious fist pump. Ha-ha motherfucker, he thought with a smug smile. Harry thought of Oliver’s face when he told him about how he was now a level twenty-three.
Harry pedaled into the wind. The first hill on his route hit hard, and he panted his way to the top. In the crisp morning breeze, the trees liked to dance and wave at him as he cycled by.
He never got frightened on his route through the peaceful urban dreamland. Today it felt a little different. He heard rustling behind him, which made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked back over his shoulder and nothing there.
Chill out, Harry, he told himself. Mum is overreacting. There is nothing wrong, and you’ve done this route tons of times.
Shrugging his shoulders and passing the feelings off as superstition, he looked down at his phone. The screen had darkened, and when he pushed the on button, nothing happened.
Getting frustrated, he pushed it harder and the phone lit up. There was another rare Pokémon close to where he was. He couldn’t believe his luck. He had to pedal a little off his route, but he didn’t mind the sacrifice for such a rare prize.
He focused on the phone screen as he turned his bike to the right and parked it up against a wall. The leaves crunched beneath his feet as he walked closer to where the rare Pokémon had last been seen.
Harry continued his way down the silent street, not noticing that the once bustling Sunday morning Street was empty. A well-worn, once neon yellow football sat alone by the gate of number 15. He kicked the football and followed the path to the rare Pokémon. The wind whipped through, causing his bike to fall over. The entire crate spilled freely to the ground, forcing Harry to stop.
God damn it! He angrily cursed to himself. Why the fuck didn’t I secure them better? I’m wasting my time. Oliver and George are probably almost done with their bloody rounds, and here I am. I haven’t delivered a single bloody paper!
Harry crouched down and scooped the papers up in his arms. At the same time, he kept his tight hold on his phone. He dumped the papers back in the crate, and he stood by his bike.
Yes! He saw that the rare Pokémon was close. He leaned the bike against the wall again and made his way down the street.
The screen showed the Pokémon just behind the next tree. He approached it, grinning as he walked. He tried to imagine the faces of Oliver and George as he triumphantly secured his place in the lead. This Pokémon would surely get him to level twenty-four, and little Oliver would be stuck back at twenty-one.
Eat my dust, smart ass! He laughed at imaginary Oliver in front of him. Lookie, lookie what I found!
Looking at his screen, Harry saw that the Pokémon was right by a zombie.
A zombie?
He stared at his screen intensely. The graphics looked nothing like the normal app, and Harry didn’t like the upgrade. He swiped the screen to capture the weird zombie and Pokémon. He caught the Pokémon, but the zombie was still there. He tapped again, but nothing happened.
Work you fucking thing! He internally screamed as he pushed the zombie a third time.
“C’mon, you little fucker!” Harry called out loud, and the zombie responded with a groan. “Uh… What the fuck?” he muttered to his phone, thinking it was a noise from his device.
A louder groan came from the distance, and he looked up to see a lazy, stumbling figure coming right toward him. The man reminded him of a comic he had once seen at The Forbidden Planet comic store. His clothes had ripped to shreds, just like the flesh on his legs. Harry could see the man’s leg bone through his mangled skin. His mouth was gaping open, and saliva dripped from it. He looked disgusting, but worst of all, he appeared to be hungry for Harry.
The man staggered towards Harry. His movements were slow and jolted from his broken ankle which dragged behind him.
Harry walked backward away from the man, but his hollow eyes locked on him. Harry’s heart raced. It can’t be…
A flapping orange windbreaker caught Harry’s eye. There was another one of them, and this one wasn’t slow. The newcomer quickly approached Harry, and he was dressed in his football kit.
Great! I’m going to get my ass kicked by a jock! Just like a normal day at school. Maybe mum’s karate lessons will finally come in useful. Harry had always been too scared to use karate at school because he didn’t like to hurt people.
He turned to run away, but he moved too quickly and tripped over a rock on the ground before slamming down into the mud. The zombie footballer took his chance and dived for Harry.
Adrenaline raced through Harry’s veins, and he kicked the zombie square in the chest. At that moment, it was as if he was in a slow-motion movie. The zombie fell backward slowly and landed with a loud snap from his neck. That seemed to stop its groaning.
Harry jumped to his feet and looked down at the zombie. It had smacked his skull against the rock. He leaned down and stared at the monster, but it didn’t move.
I killed him. Harry gulped in horror as his hands trembled. He hadn’t meant to kill him. Am I a murder now? He looked around. The slower coach zombie was still moving towards him.
Pandemic Z (Book 1): Pandemic Z Page 4