"Part of Undead/Zombie Survival Story"
Thumbing the booklet on the shelf before him, Aitken finally began to slow down. It was a surgery information pamphlet, displaying what could be improved about your nose, your cheekbone appearance, the pores of your entire face. Placing it back indifferently, he ushered Vera behind the counter.
Behind her, the shelves and products remained intact, in place. No noise, nothing through the glass except for an unclear view of the dark building across the street and the grey sidewalk. Was it a music store? She thought she could make out the design of a record on the sign, which normally she imagined would be lit up in neon.
“Come on, Vera.”
Aitken tugged slightly at her arm, his movements gentle and fingers warm. For once, she hadn’t been startled. Remembering the chilling, seizing sensation of one of those creatures’ fingers barely grazing against her arm, she followed close behind him. Perhaps she’d gotten to close to it that time. Too close to something she knew better than to linger beside. In those few surreal moments, something led her to believe that it could all possibly end soon. No matter how it had to occur, there would be some kind of solution. The dead would be put to rest, and the living…well, they would continue on with what remained, the consequences of something they didn’t fully understand.
“You know, I think I was wrong about something,” she said aloud.
“Well, I hope you’re right about what part of town we’re in.”
His reply came too quickly; it almost sounded as if he had snapped at her. Realizing how he sounded, he apologized after a brief pause where he wondered if he could even recover from letting that slip. Although Vera was surprised at first, thinking he’d doubted her direction, she waved the thought off.
“Well?”
He waited at the top of the stairs ahead of Vera, even though he couldn’t wait to clear the rest of the store. He was also just as curious about what she had to say. Their first experiences of being ‘out’ were a shock altogether. So far, he didn’t know what to expect from this girl, and the feelings were mutual.
Vera only stopped for a moment before allowing her tongue to act upon her thoughts.
“We aren’t going to get out of all this…even if we try to do it by ourselves, and that works out, there’s something bigger than us out there, Aitken. I think you’ve probably thought about this by now, too. We have to decide what to do if this continues. If it does, we can’t just stay…we can’t stay here.”
Sighing, Aitken nodded; he had thought about it, too, but he was more focused on trying to get through whatever the Hell was going on. Vera knew he understood, not exactly which part, mind you, but she felt better having some form of acknowledgement.
“You’re right, and I know we can’t. Let’s just see what we have here, first. If it’s nothing, we’ll find somewhere nearby…it shouldn’t be much further off, now.”
Vera gave a small smile and nodded before checking underneath the staircase again. It was the same, and still very quiet.
“I’m gonna open it now, just watch the stairs. I’ll get you up here in a few minutes.”
When the light from the doorway spanned across the stairway, downward to the base level, Vera’s heart began to pound again. Quickly, Aitken scanned the new room. Nothing appeared unusual, so he closed Vera and himself inside. Both of them felt a small sense of relief, aside from the uneasiness. Sometimes the uneasiness in one’s guts felt like another person in the room; someone who should’ve gone home a long time ago. Someone you didn’t trust fully or weren’t sure if they trusted you, either. You held your breath if they got too close, and felt your muscles start to go out of whack.
The only thing they could do now was search. As much as they wanted to believe the room, now abandoned, was as comfortable as it may have been at one time, they knew it was different, and they would be idiots not to be thorough.
‘Just a bit more,’ Vera thought.
In the middle of the room, Aitken’s eyes darted over a low set table with sunken cushions surrounding an authentic wooden table. A decorative table cloth sat overtop, in hues of autumn. It seemed an odd sight to him, so different from everything downstairs, or in most places, really. The stark white and dim glow, clean shelving units replaced with an Earthy feel. There was no strain on making things perfect or straight. In the corner, there was a small kitchen area. The place was clean and tidy, not cluttered with too many knick knacks or decorations. Aitken noted a pocket knife above the window-sill - the blinds were mostly shut, but still only a dull trace of light fell over the sink area.
With Vera not far behind, he noticed a pantry space in corner just to the right. Taking a closer look, he saw packages of grains and other foods organized neatly inside. There were even unopened bottles of oils and one of inexpensive wine.
While Aitken examined the pantry, Vera began to grow restless again. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d been focused on another room attached to the upstairs living space. Glancing over to find his side to her, his eyes appearing set on something, Vera began to reach for the door knob. The light was unresponsive; it had been left on for who knows how long. Stopping to light a match, she knew for certain now that it was a washroom. The light of the match flickered and sparked up a clear view of the large mirror, one of the only modern looking fixtures in the entire place.
Going into the small rooms was one of her least favourite parts of all this. She would have to get used to it, she knew, especially if the two were ever separated, or she lost him completely. Could she even learn to rely on someone else again, the way a favour once meant trusting a person with only your possessions or some message needing to be delivered? Most of the time, those things were easily forgotten. What would it take to be a burden now? To be a burden, Vera thought, maybe all it took was to rely on someone. To always let them go first, or let them search those dark, cramped spaces, hoping there would be nothing dead or alive inside.
Just like in the other rooms, it was quiet. Vera had almost gotten used to the quiet, except that now, when noise sprang up, it didn’t just come from the hallway - left or right. The sounds could come from anywhere, and Vera couldn’t be an invisible force any longer, listening in and trying to make out words. Now, she had to listen, her ears always strained and open to pick up any sound. Trying to find a clear sound in so much static. The thought was dizzying; she wouldn’t even hear another familiar voice for some time, most likely.
When she opened her eyes, the mirror had changed. Imprinted in the shower curtains, a horrible, slow moment reminded her of the most unsettling thing in this world. Sliding forward against the plastic material, the shape of a face began to take form. Her breath becoming husky in the stale bathroom air, Vera’s left hand gripped at the handle of her hatchet. In a second, her eyes raced from the mirror to her left, to the flickering vision of the shower curtain.
Forcing herself to inch closer, her back and neck felt like they were on fire. Already weakened from hours of traveling, her blood felt like it was boiling underneath her flesh, slowly pulsing and moving through her. For a moment, her head began to tingle again, her breath felt as though it was stuck in her chest, unable to escape, and the dwindling fear that perhaps she would simply fade away. Unknown to her, the feeling could become overwhelming if she didn’t somehow gain control.
Swiftly, she thrust her foot upwards and forwards into the shower curtains, aimed at the shifting figure; she heard it slam against the wall. She could hear its animalistic retching sounds as it began to claw desperately at the curtains. Vera instantly planted a foot on the side of the bath and swung her hatchet down onto the curtain rod. It was knocked down, collapsed onto the groaning undead. It was female.
Aitken called out, his voice, in Vera’s mind, snuffed by a layer of cotton. Her blood was pulsing so hard, it felt like a blanket was wrapped tight around her. He was so far from where she was. Gripping the hatchet, she aimed for the place between its glossed over eyes. She didn’t stop until she’d hacked at it for a few minutes, blood flying loosely over the porcelain walls. It dripped down into the tub underneath, forming a pool around the creature’s legs. The thing smelled like rotten meat left out in the sun for days, tangy and offensive.
“What the hell? Why didn’t you…”
Aitken had begun to raise his voice, but realized all that Vera had done after pushing past her. He couldn’t find a reason to finish.
In awe, he gawked at the scene, the horrid, unmoving creature, blood glistening around them. Then, he watched Vera, her neck coated in sweat, hair pulled back, soft strands falling onto her shoulders. She breathed heavily, bent over, processing all of it.
“Was that the only one?”
Knowing it was, Aitken lifted the curtains to find the rest of the tub empty, the blood draining down. He draped the curtains over the corpse and slowly returned to the doorway. “We’re gonna be okay for tonight. Let’s block up the door so we can try to sleep.”
Wiping the sweat from above her lip, Vera nodded. “Yeah, all right.”
The door was easy to cover; they propped a bookcase underneath and across it, including the kitchen table, and wedged a few more objects into the obstruction.
Behind her, the shelves and products remained intact, in place. No noise, nothing through the glass except for an unclear view of the dark building across the street and the grey sidewalk. Was it a music store? She thought she could make out the design of a record on the sign, which normally she imagined would be lit up in neon.
“Come on, Vera.”
Aitken tugged slightly at her arm, his movements gentle and fingers warm. For once, she hadn’t been startled. Remembering the chilling, seizing sensation of one of those creatures’ fingers barely grazing against her arm, she followed close behind him. Perhaps she’d gotten to close to it that time. Too close to something she knew better than to linger beside. In those few surreal moments, something led her to believe that it could all possibly end soon. No matter how it had to occur, there would be some kind of solution. The dead would be put to rest, and the living…well, they would continue on with what remained, the consequences of something they didn’t fully understand.
“You know, I think I was wrong about something,” she said aloud.
“Well, I hope you’re right about what part of town we’re in.”
His reply came too quickly; it almost sounded as if he had snapped at her. Realizing how he sounded, he apologized after a brief pause where he wondered if he could even recover from letting that slip. Although Vera was surprised at first, thinking he’d doubted her direction, she waved the thought off.
“Well?”
He waited at the top of the stairs ahead of Vera, even though he couldn’t wait to clear the rest of the store. He was also just as curious about what she had to say. Their first experiences of being ‘out’ were a shock altogether. So far, he didn’t know what to expect from this girl, and the feelings were mutual.
Vera only stopped for a moment before allowing her tongue to act upon her thoughts.
“We aren’t going to get out of all this…even if we try to do it by ourselves, and that works out, there’s something bigger than us out there, Aitken. I think you’ve probably thought about this by now, too. We have to decide what to do if this continues. If it does, we can’t just stay…we can’t stay here.”
Sighing, Aitken nodded; he had thought about it, too, but he was more focused on trying to get through whatever the Hell was going on. Vera knew he understood, not exactly which part, mind you, but she felt better having some form of acknowledgement.
“You’re right, and I know we can’t. Let’s just see what we have here, first. If it’s nothing, we’ll find somewhere nearby…it shouldn’t be much further off, now.”
Vera gave a small smile and nodded before checking underneath the staircase again. It was the same, and still very quiet.
“I’m gonna open it now, just watch the stairs. I’ll get you up here in a few minutes.”
When the light from the doorway spanned across the stairway, downward to the base level, Vera’s heart began to pound again. Quickly, Aitken scanned the new room. Nothing appeared unusual, so he closed Vera and himself inside. Both of them felt a small sense of relief, aside from the uneasiness. Sometimes the uneasiness in one’s guts felt like another person in the room; someone who should’ve gone home a long time ago. Someone you didn’t trust fully or weren’t sure if they trusted you, either. You held your breath if they got too close, and felt your muscles start to go out of whack.
The only thing they could do now was search. As much as they wanted to believe the room, now abandoned, was as comfortable as it may have been at one time, they knew it was different, and they would be idiots not to be thorough.
‘Just a bit more,’ Vera thought.
In the middle of the room, Aitken’s eyes darted over a low set table with sunken cushions surrounding an authentic wooden table. A decorative table cloth sat overtop, in hues of autumn. It seemed an odd sight to him, so different from everything downstairs, or in most places, really. The stark white and dim glow, clean shelving units replaced with an Earthy feel. There was no strain on making things perfect or straight. In the corner, there was a small kitchen area. The place was clean and tidy, not cluttered with too many knick knacks or decorations. Aitken noted a pocket knife above the window-sill - the blinds were mostly shut, but still only a dull trace of light fell over the sink area.
With Vera not far behind, he noticed a pantry space in corner just to the right. Taking a closer look, he saw packages of grains and other foods organized neatly inside. There were even unopened bottles of oils and one of inexpensive wine.
While Aitken examined the pantry, Vera began to grow restless again. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d been focused on another room attached to the upstairs living space. Glancing over to find his side to her, his eyes appearing set on something, Vera began to reach for the door knob. The light was unresponsive; it had been left on for who knows how long. Stopping to light a match, she knew for certain now that it was a washroom. The light of the match flickered and sparked up a clear view of the large mirror, one of the only modern looking fixtures in the entire place.
Going into the small rooms was one of her least favourite parts of all this. She would have to get used to it, she knew, especially if the two were ever separated, or she lost him completely. Could she even learn to rely on someone else again, the way a favour once meant trusting a person with only your possessions or some message needing to be delivered? Most of the time, those things were easily forgotten. What would it take to be a burden now? To be a burden, Vera thought, maybe all it took was to rely on someone. To always let them go first, or let them search those dark, cramped spaces, hoping there would be nothing dead or alive inside.
Just like in the other rooms, it was quiet. Vera had almost gotten used to the quiet, except that now, when noise sprang up, it didn’t just come from the hallway - left or right. The sounds could come from anywhere, and Vera couldn’t be an invisible force any longer, listening in and trying to make out words. Now, she had to listen, her ears always strained and open to pick up any sound. Trying to find a clear sound in so much static. The thought was dizzying; she wouldn’t even hear another familiar voice for some time, most likely.
When she opened her eyes, the mirror had changed. Imprinted in the shower curtains, a horrible, slow moment reminded her of the most unsettling thing in this world. Sliding forward against the plastic material, the shape of a face began to take form. Her breath becoming husky in the stale bathroom air, Vera’s left hand gripped at the handle of her hatchet. In a second, her eyes raced from the mirror to her left, to the flickering vision of the shower curtain.
Forcing herself to inch closer, her back and neck felt like they were on fire. Already weakened from hours of traveling, her blood felt like it was boiling underneath her flesh, slowly pulsing and moving through her. For a moment, her head began to tingle again, her breath felt as though it was stuck in her chest, unable to escape, and the dwindling fear that perhaps she would simply fade away. Unknown to her, the feeling could become overwhelming if she didn’t somehow gain control.
Swiftly, she thrust her foot upwards and forwards into the shower curtains, aimed at the shifting figure; she heard it slam against the wall. She could hear its animalistic retching sounds as it began to claw desperately at the curtains. Vera instantly planted a foot on the side of the bath and swung her hatchet down onto the curtain rod. It was knocked down, collapsed onto the groaning undead. It was female.
Aitken called out, his voice, in Vera’s mind, snuffed by a layer of cotton. Her blood was pulsing so hard, it felt like a blanket was wrapped tight around her. He was so far from where she was. Gripping the hatchet, she aimed for the place between its glossed over eyes. She didn’t stop until she’d hacked at it for a few minutes, blood flying loosely over the porcelain walls. It dripped down into the tub underneath, forming a pool around the creature’s legs. The thing smelled like rotten meat left out in the sun for days, tangy and offensive.
“What the hell? Why didn’t you…”
Aitken had begun to raise his voice, but realized all that Vera had done after pushing past her. He couldn’t find a reason to finish.
In awe, he gawked at the scene, the horrid, unmoving creature, blood glistening around them. Then, he watched Vera, her neck coated in sweat, hair pulled back, soft strands falling onto her shoulders. She breathed heavily, bent over, processing all of it.
“Was that the only one?”
Knowing it was, Aitken lifted the curtains to find the rest of the tub empty, the blood draining down. He draped the curtains over the corpse and slowly returned to the doorway. “We’re gonna be okay for tonight. Let’s block up the door so we can try to sleep.”
Wiping the sweat from above her lip, Vera nodded. “Yeah, all right.”
The door was easy to cover; they propped a bookcase underneath and across it, including the kitchen table, and wedged a few more objects into the obstruction.