by Alice Carina
"Okay," the man in the suit said slowly. "We will allow you to stay here as long as you want, but until we are sure you can be trusted, we would like you to have an escort. What that be agreeable to you?"
This did not sound good at all. An escort? More like a guard. I would be little more than a prisoner in a large prison... With stores and other people... Yeah... Still a prisoner, though! They would probably only keep me around as long as I was useful, then discard me like a broken toy the moment I didn't serve a purpose. These guys were definitely dangerous.
The big scary man who hated me was my guard, and he never even tried to hide how annoyed he was by my presence. On the plus side, there was only one of him, and they hadn't tried to take my rifle, figuring I wouldn't be able to or want to shoot anyone at close range. It was a wise decision, but one I hadn't expected from them.
The big scary man followed me everywhere I went, but he didn't stop me from doing what I wanted. Everywhere I went, I began to notice people packing, readying themselves to leave the shopping centre they had called home for who knew how long. I was kind of glad I had found them before they left, but it was kind of strange that they had chosen now to leave. There was a large group of zombies passing through the area, only a few blocks away. Leaving now would mean being at risk of being caught by a large group of the undead with nowhere to hide.
"When are you guys leaving?" I asked a mildly friendly looking woman who was packing clothing and blankets from an expensive-looking store.
"Tomorrow," she answered quickly, seemingly nervous about talking to me.
"Why?"
She looked at me guiltily, as if she had done something wrong... Or she was going to. "Supplies are running low, it's time to move on."
She had to be kidding! Why would they leave it too late to move at a safer time? It didn't make any sense... What was going on?
The scary man looked at me, and smirked. What was going on? He looked disturbingly satisfied, as if an annoying bug had been cornered and was about to be squashed. I had a sinking feeling that I was the bug, and very soon I was going to be squashed.
I was beginning to wonder if keeping my rifle was going to help me at all. With the way these survivors were plotting around me, as far as I knew it could be exactly what they wanted. Despite my confusion on their choice of leaders, it could actually be appropriate; one or more of them could be smart enough to plan.
For all I knew, everything I thought and did might be part of their plan. The problem was finding out what they wanted, and how they were going to get what they wanted. It would be really useful if I knew what they wanted, and how exactly I fit into their plans. I had a bad feeling that I was about to find out.
Chapter six
Chapter six: sacrifice
Okay, so I thought that people wouldn't want to kill any of the other survivors. Perhaps it was naive, but even the selfish types had to have a limit; how often would they go out of their way to kill another survivor? Well, I guess I was wrong; there are some seriously messed up people out there.
It was hard to say exactly how I had gotten into this situation, but I probably had to blame most of it on my own stupidity. A smarter or wiser man wouldn't have been dumb enough to fall for their trick. Not me though, I clearly possess a small enough brain to succeed in dooming myself to being eaten alive. Yay for me.
To sum it up, I was trapped outside the shopping centre, the door locked behind me, and a whole horde of zombies in front of me. I wasn't sure if they had noticed me yet, but it wouldn't be long before they did. I was hiding behind a car parked near the door at the back of the shopping centre, trying not to be noticed.
Why was I hiding behind a car, locked outside and trying to avoid a horde of zombies? Simple; I was tricked by the survivors. It was stupid of me to be so trusting, but no one would have believed it possible for a fellow survivor to betray them. Now, because I trusted them, I am going to be eaten by zombies!
I still wasn't exactly sure why they had betrayed me and locked me outside, but I had a theory; they wanted me to create a distraction so they could move without drawing the attention of any zombies. It was a smart plan really, because it meant that no matter how many zombies there were, they wouldn't be attacked.
If someone, like me, was trapped by the zombies, they would make a lot of noise, drawing more zombies. If that someone had a gun, like I did, without a silencer, even one shot would draw the attention of every zombie for miles around. The survivors would only have to wait for the zombies to leave before they could move to a new base, without a zombie in sight as they went.
Already, just from the sound of the door being barricaded behind me, more than three dozen zombies had drifted closer. It was obvious that as soon as the zombies came close enough, I would fire at least one shot, whether it was to stop just one more zombie or to have a quick death was up to me, but I had no doubt that I would fire a shot.
I had already considered breaking into the car I was hiding behind, but it was locked, and almost definitely had an alarm that would bring just as many, if not more, of the zombies right to me. Even in the car, they would probably be able to get me. Being trapped might extend my life, but it would rob me of any chance I had of surviving.
If I wanted to live through this, a hope that was dwindling by the minute, I had to avoid drawing their attention as long as possible. If I waited long enough, the other survivors might leave, drawing the attention of the zombies around me. I doubted it, but still, I could dream couldn't I? Especially if I was going to die soon.
It was kind of sad that I was going to be stuck there, trapped, then surrounded and eaten alive by zombies. It was even more sad that I was going to die alone, abandoned by my fellow man. It's not like I wanted the other survivors stuck here with me, although they deserve it, I just wished I could see mr creepy-kid-who-watches-zombies again. Man, I really needed to find out his name!
Alone and trapped, I waited for the zombies to come. In the silence of the empty world, each footstep, which dragged across the cement slowly, was distinct. I didn't dare look when they were so close - any sound could give away my position - but I could already tell there were more of them, and that they were much closer than before, even when they were just drifting aimlessly closer.
As slowly and quietly as I could, I loaded my rifle and waited, wondering what my decision would be when it came down to it; kill the zombies or myself? Well... I could just do both, to rid the world of at least a few more zombies. Heh, to think that only yesterday I thought I could just help out survivors without a single risk to myself.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the end - seriously, waiting was killing me! It was almost worse not knowing when the end would come. I gripped my rifle and brought my ammo closer, making sure I could reload quickly. It was times like these I wished I had a handgun; a rifle was useless at such short range.
The sudden screeching of a car alarm nearby almost made me shoot myself. When a sudden chance of survival has arrived, it would be pretty dumb to kill myself, or draw the attention of the zombies BACK to me, just when they were distracted. Talk about a stupid way to die.
But now I had to wonder what exactly had happened? For a second I hoped that the other survivors had changed their minds and had come to rescue me. But the door was behind me, and the car alarm was in the opposite direction. They would have had to go all the way around to do that, and they would have only needed to unlock the door to save me. It wasn't them.
I heard a footstep nearby, and with the instantaneous reaction formed from months of fleeing from the flesh-eating undead, I raised my rifle, ready to fire. Instead of the zombie I had expected, I was confronted with a familiar young face.
"Mr creepy!" I said in shock. Probably not the best thing to say in that situation, especially after he had just saved my life. In fact, it might actually be one of the worst things I could have said. Insulting the person who saved my life was generally frowned on, wasn't it?
"Huh?" he asked, his face twisting in c
onfusion. He stood there, staring at me in bewilderment, seemingly unbothered by the weapon pointed at him. I couldn't say how glad to see him I was, and not just because he was saving my life.
Chapter seven
Chapter seven: rescue
Jake's POV
"Mr creepy!" Matt said in a shocked voice. He was on the ground, his back against the car, his rifle pointed at my face with his finger on the trigger.
"Huh?" Who was 'mr creepy'? What was he on about? Either he was crazy, or I was, but I was betting on him. What kind of reaction was that to me SAVING HIS LIFE?! He was clearly insane. Too bad there were no more insane asylums to send him to.
I looked around, keeping an eye out for any smarter of the zombies or the evil survivors. I was pretty sure that every one of our enemies had been distracted by my brilliant plan of throwing a rock at the pristine Porsche left in the street, probably after the whole fleeing from zombies thing. It was a shame to destroy such a beautiful car, but it couldn't be helped. Plus I always wanted to smash an expensive car.
Matt was looking especially pathetic as he stared at me, looking like a lost puppy who had just found its owner. Was this guy really older than me? Because by the way he was acting, he was a five year old. What exactly did he think I was? Yep, he was definitely crazy.
Obviously we couldn't stand around gawking like idiots, so I grabbed Matt's arm and pulled him off the ground. The guy was surprisingly heavy; it was a miracle I managed to drag him off the ground at all when he was in shock. Why was he so useless?
We couldn't go back to the shopping centre, so I pulled Matt towards the nearest building next to it, an old second hand clothing store. We ducked past cars, moving as fast as we could while avoiding the zombies gathering at the other side of the parking lot. The door to the store was unlocked, and I was pretty sure the alarm was off.
Matt still looked a bit stunned, so I left him standing next to the counter while I barricaded the door behind us with a shelf devoted to pamphlets for charity organizations. Oh the irony; charity was finally giving help back to the common man... To protect us against zombies. Hmm... I don't think they ever imagined that purpose for the shelf.
"Okay, we can stay here for a while, but we should start moving again soon."
Matt gave me a look like I had said the earth was flat. What was wrong with this guy? You'd think that when the apocalypse came around, everyone would stop acting so irrational, but no. No, everyone had to panic, to let their emotions get them into more trouble than they needed. Just like Matt, who looked like a goldfish with bulging eyes and a round 'O' for a mouth.
"What are you doing here?" Matt asked finally.
Good question. I didn't particularly want to answer it though. It was embarrassing that I had gone out of my way to save someone else, even if he had saved my life before. More embarrassing, though, was that I was there in the first place to save him.
I stand by the fact that I only followed Matt because I needed to know where the other survivors were staying. I was NOT worried about him. Except any worries I might have had were apparently completely justified. He was kind of pathetic when he wasn't rescuing someone else.
I had followed Matt to the evil survivors' hideout, and I had noticed their suspicious behavior. They had been quite obviously gathering and packing supplies, which made no sense with the number of zombies that were mulling around outside. They had a large horde waiting for them in the street and they were packing? It didn't make sense.
So I waited out the night, just watching what they did. For some odd reason, I couldn't possibly say why, since the whole zombie apocalypse thing, I had been having trouble sleeping. Threat of being eaten alive really was a good way to turn everyone into insomniacs.
Early that morning, I had seen them gathering all the bags near the entrance, so that they could be picked up quickly on their way out. The only reason they would do that was if they planned to leave. And they would only leave if they had a way to distract the zombies. From the way the three survivors from before had been moving, I didn't doubt that these people would be willing to sacrifice one for the benefit of the many.
Unfortunately, that one was Matt. Of course it was. For someone who could shoot a zombie, accurately, from the roof of a bus, through a window, and miss a person's foot, he seemed pretty useless at defending himself. He didn't even run when the zombies were distracted. It was like he didn't know what to do when there was no one else there. He was such a child.
"Saving your life, what does it look like?" I replied.
Matt didn't look satisfied with my answer, but he didn't say anything to contradict me. He sat down on the floor and stared at his feet. He reminded me again of a lost puppy looking for its owner. Why was someone older than me reminding me of a dog? I hadn't seen an animal since the attack, except the fish in the pet store.
"Thank you," Matt said softly, still staring at his feet. This guy was like a cross between a puppy and a five year old.
"I didn't save you so that you'd thank me. I expect you to save me at least ten times in the future to repay me. Even if it means risking your own life."
He looked confused for a moment, but then he got a dopey grin on his face. He stood up and looked at me for the first time since he had almost shot me. His confusion and uncertainty disappeared, and he regained his composure and confidence.
"It's a deal."
"Yeah, whatever. We need to leave before the zombies work out a car alarm doesn't mean people. I also want to check out where your... friends are going."
"Anything you say."
Such a child.
Chapter eight
Chapter eight: partner
It was 6AM and I was awake. This wasn't anything strange, I spent a lot of hours trying to sleep and failing miserably. But this was different. This time, I didn't want to sleep. I was too creeped out by the strangeness of having another person breathing nearby. Each breath was shockingly loud to my ears, but I wasn't sure what to do about it.
It wasn't like I could ask him to stop breathing, tempting as it was. At least then I could have some peace and quiet where the only thing I had to worry about was the undead roaming around outside looking for people to eat. Oh how I missed those days; things were so much simpler.
I wasn't particularly happy with him picking the apartment I had chosen to sleep in either. Unfortunately it would be pretty stupid if I said I didn't want him nearby despite the danger of being separated just because I wasn't used to having someone else around. Curse the undeniable rules of the apocalypse! Now I'm never gonna get any sleep.
I decided that 6AM was late enough in the morning that there was no point in sleeping anymore, so I got up. Lately it had been getting colder, with temperatures that normally wouldn't be any trouble if there was still electricity. Now even hypothermia was a serious danger to consider. I was already wearing three layers, and I was tempted to add more with the temperature continuing to drop.
The only consolation of the temperature decrease was that more layers meant less chance of the zombies actually biting you. They would have to tear through the layers of clothing before they could reach flesh, or they had to aim for the exposed areas, which were lessening with the temperature.
I had also noticed a peculiar change in the behavior of the undead. I couldn't be sure yet when I had been distracted by Matt and his stupid situations, but I was pretty sure the zombies were being affected by the cold. They seemed slower and they were moving around less. I figured it had to do with their limbs freezing and stuff, just like how a broken or missing leg slowed them down, freezing did too.
I was determined to find out whether this was true, and with Matt snoring on the floor, now was the perfect time to check up on the street outside. The fact that it was morning, the coldest time of the day, was even better, where the cold would have the greatest effect on them. I grabbed my binoculars and headed upstairs to the roof.
It was even colder outside than it was inside, but I wasn't part
icularly bothered. I was more interested in a pack of zombies that were sniffing out the building across the street. That was a bad sign. It meant that there was a chance they had noticed me. It was when they were checking out everywhere but the place you were hiding that you could be pretty sure they knew there was something there.
Oh well, I had lived here long enough. It was about time to move on anyway. Besides, with Matt tagging along, I doubted I would have stayed here much longer anyway. Still, it felt good to blame it on him. How could he deny it when we had to leave as soon as he arrived.
We had to check out where his psychotic little friends from the shopping centre went anyway, so it wouldn't be a bad time to scope out the area. We might even be able to find somewhere warm to wait out the temperature drop. Heck, I would be happy as long as I could have a fire to sit in front of, as selfish and dangerous as it was.
"Mr creepy!" said a familiarly annoying voice behind me. "What are you doing?"
I didn't even have to look to know that Matt was standing behind me, probably with that stupid grin on his face.
"My name is Jake, NOT mr creepy!" I hissed at him. What kind of person calls someone YOUNGER THAN THEM mister? And who was creepy???
"Sorry, sorry, it's just that I didn't know your name, and it kind of stuck."
"Why 'mr creepy'?"
"'Cause the way you act is older than you are, and you stalk zombies, it makes sense if you think about it like that, doesn't it?" he asked innocently.
"Who would stalk a zombie?! That doesn't make any sense!"
"But you spend all your time watching them. That's pretty stalkerish if you ask me."
"I didn't."
"Why are you so angry?" he asked, looking genuinely perplexed.
"We have to leave here soon."
"Why?" he asked, not even having to confirm what I meant by 'here'. Why was he only mature in these kind of situations?
"They know we're here."
"How do you know that?"