Stunned, I watched them jump down from the stage to defend the helpless innocent people still being mauled by the bloodthirsty pack of cannibals.
Terrified by what was happening before me, all I could do was heed their dire words. So I ran for my life. I dodged hands that grabbed me, feet that tripped me, and stark raving mad cannibals trying to eat me.
A part of me felt horrified by my actions. The hands that reached for me, now reached for others.
As I ran, my Converse shoes betrayed me, and I slipped in a bright red pool of blood. It drenched the bottom of my sweater in the back and the seat of my jeans. I was sitting in some one’s warm life sustaining nectar, blood. As realization hit me, I panicked.
I stood, careful not to slip, my hands now covered in warm, viscous blood. It coated my hands and with stark reality I felt my traitorous demeanor had caused this. It certainly hadn’t helped. There was nothing I could do though, I assured myself.
Without hesitating, I reached for the doors to keep me from slipping in the blood. I felt guilty, so before walking through those doors I looked back.
My band was fighting off the flesh eating monsters that had taken us all by surprise. It was then, as I saw my brothers in the throes of a bloodthirsty war, that I realized these were not cannibals.
I saw Allen swinging his bass guitar at everyone that had the nerve to step up at him. The look on his face was one I’d never forget. He would not go down without a fight.
Tim had one of them in a headlock, but the monster had bitten him on his arm.
Douglas was being eaten alive before my very eyes. My stomach churned, I gagged, and nearly slipped in the blood again.
Douglas’s last words would forever ring in my mind. “Run Josh!” he screamed, his words tainted by the pain he must have felt as the zombie’s teeth ripped his flesh from his bones. As blood began pouring from his mouth, as the zombie savagely tore into his abdomen, and strands of his intestines slid to the ground, I ran for my life.
His last words, torn from his bleeding lips, dug into my brain and they spurred me on. I would run until I found some secluded place in which I could hide away until this hellish nightmare was over.
I’d found an empty restaurant, the lights out, and I hid inside of it quivering like the coward I was. No, I’d been told to run. One of us should live on and remember the ones who’d sacrificed themselves. There was no point in throwing myself to the wolves, or rather zombies. It was still shocking to hear myself think those words. I was in the midst of a zombie apocalypse…
It can’t even be an apocalypse, right? I mean that would mean the whole world had turned. I hope it’s only happening in Cali, or else the world is literally fucked!
As I hid, I kept scanning the dark around me and looking towards the venue. Suddenly, I could take no more of the madness that had driven me here. Shaking, crying, I sat there terrified beyond belief.
How could this happen with no warning to the public? Had we just been too careless to listen? Had the news warned us? While I sat here, too numb with fear to move, was the emergency broadcast system alerting us to the tragic circumstances?
I looked down at my hands, drenched in blood. I wiped the blood off by wiping them down the front of my pants. I don’t want blood on me. Not even my own…
Hours later, I stir from my comfortable spot, jolted awake by hellish nightmares of zombie monstrosities. Can’t fucking believe I slept, I thought. What if one found me?
I began to move when suddenly one of them awoke and started running to the front doors of the restaurant, she actually broke the glass from the force she was running. I stayed cowered in my corner till she disappeared so I could safely come out.
Still trembling, I waited until not even a whisper of wind could be heard. Slowly, I stood and scanned the area around me. Judging by the clock on the wall, it was midnight. Nothing stirred… not anymore.
The blood stains on the front of my jacket caught my attention. I reeked, ugh. Zipping it open, I slid it off my shoulders and dropped it to the ground.
I timidly crept out and into the night through the broken glass door. I looked left and right before walking on towards the venue. Cars were piled up here and there, some on fire, as if the people had just opened their doors and ran for their very lives.
Being in downtown right now seemed to be one of the worst places to be at this moment. How long have I been asleep?
Apparently, between the time the apocalypse had begun and while I’d been sleeping, a riot had ensued and everything in sight had been demolished.
Decayed, half eaten bodies were strewn everywhere. The streets were a jungle of carnage. Inside the burning cars were charred bodies, making it look as if a nuke had been set off here.
My eyes swept over the macabre scene as my heart wept from the devastation. No one had been spared, it seemed. Bodies had been half pulled from their cars, eaten and discarded; the same with shop owners and employees.
I wrapped my arms around me, trying to block the cold chill of vacant death and destruction; mind you it was the middle of fucking June.
Finally reaching the venue I peered in. It was a fucking bloody massacre.
It had been total mayhem here. From corner to corner, there was a mass of music lovers torn apart. Guts laid out like a buffet on tables, the bar, and lounge area. They dangled like moss from a Cypress tree.
Shocked, I stared at the walls that looked as if somebody had fucking used blood-like-paint to splatter the walls, dripping designs that shattered my mind. I couldn’t fathom the repulsive disarray and deprivation that had went on here. It looked like a slaughter house. Warm bodies had once partied here, not long ago, and now lay cold and lifeless on the floor.
I started moving, and before I realized it, searched for the members of my band. I gagged on the atrocious smell of the carnage that lay before me. Using only the moonlight from the windows, I looked for them.
One by one I found them all slain by the evil creatures that had crushed this building in as little as ten minutes, laid to death beside the stage we had once rocked out on, the last one we’d ever step upon and play our hearts out. In fact, tonight was supposed to be our big shot for a record company. Now that one shot blown away like the wind.
My band was nothing more than bloody, skeletal remains left rotting on the ground. Their eyes stared up at me in silent abhorrence. They’d known the evil as they’d lay dying. Did they regret staying and not running away with me or had they’d gone down in a blaze of glory saving what few they could?
Douglas’ guts seemed to no longer exist, along with an arm and leg. I followed the trail of where his leg had been dragged away by following the blood and shed skin, muscle, and fat.
Disgust was etched onto my face as I found one of his legs, half eaten, now nothing more than a protruding bone from his kneecap.
Only half of Tim’s face was there, the other side stared blankly up at me, the smile nothing more than gums and teeth.
I have a feeling he might wake up.
Allen! I started for him, tripping over the lifeless bodies.
He was still wriggling, still alive. His hand lay against his throat while he coughed up blood. How was it possible for him to survive this long?
“Jesus Allen!” I went to him, as he stretched his free arm out for me. I grasped his hand in mine. “Don’t die on me man,” I began to cry.
He freed his hand from mine, and grasped my shoulder tightly. I put my hand atop of his. His eyes held so much pain for the state he was in. I can’t begin to imagine what he must be feeling right now. “Josh,” he breathed out. “You...need….to...l...l...l..’ he swallowed the blood down his throat and continued, “leave....They….They….will….get you...if you stay here.” The look on his face, in his eyes, was enough to have the hair standing on my arms and neck.
Why do they care so much about my safety? I don’t understand. I don’t think I’ll ever understand. It’s not just because I’m the youngest. He looked at me
waiting on an answer. I blinked away my tears. “Yeah, yeah man. Sure. I will.”
“Beat ’em or leave ’em,” he smiled and began to chuckle. But the pain was too much for him.
Even while on the verge of death he was a joker. “Yeah man, beat em or leave em.” I agreed sniffling.
Then his eyes closed, and his hand from my shoulder no longer grasped my shirt. I took his hand and laid it against him as well as his other. The guy was basically lying in his own pool of blood.
He was the last of my band members, friends, or anyone who’d ever cared for me aside from my shitty father. I’ll never know nor understand why they cared so much about me. In my eyes I was nothing.
“FUCK!!!” I shouted in frustration. How could I forget my four-year old little sister Abby.
I began to run home, away from the reeking smell of decayed blood, away from the ever-consuming reality of death. I needed to get to my sister. She was my first priority. My mother died just three years ago by suicide.
Just as I’m getting out of the downtown area, I realize I’m being followed. I can hear their shrieks and growls from behind as they tried to catch up to me.
Shit, I didn’t even think about picking up a weapon. Too late for that now to even think about stopping. Well...I don’t have these pair of legs for nothing. And I’m not a star on the running track for nothing! I pushed my legs and lungs further than ever before.
Without slowing, I look back, while focusing on my breathing. They were pretty far behind me. Their shrieks sending chills up my spine even from here.
The slow fuckers. I laugh, turn my head around, and shout, “Fuck You!” I give them a two finger salute, flicking them off while I’m running. I felt like a bird in the wind. My medium short hair flying behind me, my cheeks pushed back, my shirt clinging to my sweaty body. It’s moments like these I felt totally free.
I look back again at my assailants who’d either stopped or got too far behind, diverging their attention elsewhere. But I continued to push my burning body on towards the shit hole I call home. All for little Abby.
Finally reaching my house, I rush up the stairs making so much noise on the wooden porch, and holler, “Abby!”
Still, I didn’t stop there. I continued to run up the stairs to her bedroom that was across from mine on the other side of the house. “Abby?” I opened her ajar door to her pink bedroom filled with barbies.
Not there. God, I hope she’s ok. I huffed and puffed out of breath, my legs burning tremendously as the sweat ran down my body. Thankfully, I was faithful about my daily morning runs. Otherwise I’d never made it home so quickly.
Where else would she go? I headed to my father’s room, but stood outside listening as I heard munching. There was blood smeared on the edge of the door and a small hand stain on the wall. I gulped hard, swallowing, scared and worried at what I possibly could find in my father’s room.
As I stood there, too numb with fear and worry to barge in, hesitantly, I gently touch the door with my shaking hand so that it opens. Ever so slowly, the door swung open, with a spine tingling creak.
The grey shadowed room made it hard to see, but my eyes adjusted. A small lamp provided the only glow of light, next to the door, but it didn’t improve the darkness enough for me.
On the other side of the bed, my father sat with his back to me. He was chowing down on something based on the disturbing sounds I heard coming from there. I’d broken out in a cold sweat the moment I’d heard the nauseating sounds. If I had not loved my sister so dearly, I’d run screaming from this house like hell.
In my soft-soled, worn out Converse’s, I tiptoed haltingly towards him being ultra-careful to stay quiet. I didn’t want to interrupt whatever it was he was so thoroughly engrossed with that kept him from noticing me.
Craning my neck, I peer over his shoulder to see what it was he was enjoying. My instincts screamed to not look, to run, that I would never come back from this. Yet, I had to, for her, to know if she was okay.
What I saw was more horrifying than everything that had happened tonight combined. It made this whole hellish, macabre nightmare vastly insignificant. As my eyes scroll over a sunny yellow summer dress I feel my mind shatter. It’s too much to bear, but the dark and narcissistic side of me had to verify that it was my little sister there in our father’s arms.
My eyes see the small black shoes, the white lace socks, and my mind tries to shut down in a self-preservation type way.
It’s when I see the mini bracelet on a small arm, torn from the socket, that I feel my mind starts to leave me. I force myself to accept this stark reality.
The one person I’d sworn to protect with my very own life was being devoured by our own father right in front of me. He was totally drenched from head to foot in her blood. The crimson color splashed so haphazardly across him, the bed, the walls, it all made me mad with grief.
As fury unfurls within me, I tiptoe backwards. I had to place my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming, as tears poured down my face. Gasping, I forgot where I was walking as the horror of the situation was finally sinking in. My shoe hits the bottom of the wobbly, wooden dresser that held my mom’s picture beside the dimly glowing lamp.
As they wobbled, my face a mask of dismay at the abomination before me, my father turned to investigate the noise. How he could see me through his bloodied glasses? He shrieked at me, his mouth still full of his victim’s remains.
I only hesitated for a second as he rose, his eyes never leaving me as he dropped my sister’s frail and broken body unceremoniously to the floor.
I made a sudden dash towards my bedroom and he followed in pursuit. With the short distance from my father’s room to mine, he easily caught up just as I closed my door on his hand. The bastard wouldn’t take his hand out and had wiggled half his body in. Fuck it, I let him have it.
I ran and jumped over my bed to the corner of my room where my metal baseball bat stood upside down.
Just as I grabbed the handle, his hands wrapped around my arm and shoulder, and he almost managed to sink his bloody teeth into me. I butted the bat into the bottom of his chin and my elbow into his chest making him stumble back. I used the bat to push him back, getting mediocre hits in on him.
I adjusted the hold on the handle of the baseball bat, and again gave it my best shot, my insane and righteous fury fueling me. The side of his head made a nauseating cracking sound on the edge of my dresser, and I swear his head bobbed from side to side. He fell to the ground and began to twitch all the while growling.
In that millisecond that his head teetered in the air I remembered all the times he screamed at me for unwarranted disobedience, all the times he’d blamed me for some action I hadn’t committed, and hitting me just to appease his consciousness. I remembered how he’d caused my mother’s instability because of his insatiable need to be a control freak that led to her eventual suicide. My sister’s cooling remains were a vivid reminder of his animalistic, vicious, and staggering hunger. He’d slaughtered his own daughter, my baby sister. Zombie or not, my mind refused to justify or differentiate it.
The bastard deserved this and much more. I raised the bat over my head and brought it down on his skull with all the furious strength I possessed. It cracked open like an egg, his bloody brain matter scattering all over me and the walls. With one blow he was dead, but I couldn’t stop. My fury was a force to be reckoned with. I kept bashing the bat into what remained of him, over and over again. Blindly, I let all the pent up fear and all-consuming rage take over me.
As my life flashed before my eyes, I wailed on him. There was nothing left of his head when I finally let the crimson colored bat drop from my hand to the floor with a startling thud. His mashed brains and skull looked like a pulpy tomato soup with alphabet letters spilled on my floor.
I stood there grunting and gasping for air. I’d given it everything I’d had and then some. My legs couldn’t hold my trembling body up any longer and dumped me to the floor. I landed on my knee
s and hands as the hot tears poured over my sweat, bloodied face.
“You took away everything that ever mattered to me,” I whispered to his corpse. The soul scorching agony at how alone I’d suddenly become racked my body and was nearly my undoing.
I must’ve knelt in his blood and remains for a few minutes before I came back to myself. At first I wouldn’t bear to look at my frail baby sister, lying broken on the ground in the room across from me. I wanted to crawl over there to her and cradle her to me, begging her not to leave me alone. What reason did I have to go on now?
All the agonizing anger and pain that had built up inside of me were now staring at me brutally, just inches from my face. The contents of my stomach joined what remained of my father’s skull.
It was a moment before I could pull myself to my feet so I could gather whatever was left of my Abby from my father’s room by wrapping his white bed sheet around her remains. I gently carried her downstairs, the bat I’d stuck under my arm. She was too easy to carry, so little left of her. I headed downstairs and to the open backyard where she’d liked to jump on the trampoline with me. I tenderly laid her there so I could get the shovel that was still laid beside my mother’s long dead garden, still unmoved, but now had a reason to be.
I ignored my painful, grieving cries as I dug her small grave. I ignored the enormous amount of physical and emotional pain I’d been in all night as I wiped the sweat from my burning eyes. I stared at her open grave at my feet, stared at the dark hole in the ground where I’d have to place her remains.
Finally, when I could take it no longer, I gingerly picked her up and cradled her to me once again. The blood was seeping through the sheets, staining my dirty hands. With absolute regret at my inability to save her, I lowered her tiny corpse into the ground. It would be left there to rot. Sniffling, I knelt there with one hand on her, wanting so desperately to bring her back to life. Was she an angel in heaven now, looking down on her big brother?
I grieved. I gave into my sorrow and wept over her open grave. I remembered the times I had been there for her, the things I had managed to do for her. I was not her hero, no matter how much I wanted it to be true. I could almost see her smiling face and bright baby blue eyes looking up at me. They turned to fear and pain. She looked so broken staring up at me, begging me to save her.
The World At End (Book 1) (Left Alive for the Dead Series) Page 3