Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness Ch.20
Title: Afterworld: Into the Arms of Darkness
By: Pink Rabbit Productions
Chapter: 20
Date: 26 September, 2010
Disclaimer: Hmmm, characters, not mine, situation, mine, though with the proviso that certain scenarios owe a major debt of gratitude to George Romero. Sex? Likely. Genders involved? Likely all female (at least anything on camera). Also there are likely to be very bad things in this story. I'm not one for prodigious amounts of gore, but this is horror and there is likely to be ickiness and things that might disturb some folks. Seriously. If it's gonna bother you, move along.
Summary: When the dead rise, civilization falls.
Author's Notes: Awhile back, just for fun, I did a faux movie poster that set Otalia in a horror setting and used some elements from an idea I've had running around for ages (what can I say---it was the Halloween season). See the poster here: http://altfic.com/artgallery/otalia/glafterworld01b.htm . Sooo, at some point, it seemed like fun to take a gander at writing them in that universe. I've quite deliberately tried to break away from my usual style and make it a bit faster moving, with frequent chapter breaks, deliberate cliffhangers, shorter scenes and more directed pov. We'll see if I can keep to one pov per chapter (well, they are short chapters...lol).
Dedicated to: My mom. Seriously. All of my growing up years, she would constantly throw me these what-if scenarios and press me to figure out logical ways to survive/get out of various emergency situations. Now, she never mentioned the zombie apocalypse, but I'm sure that was just an oversight or a desire not to scare a little kid (because, really, I grew up as the daughter of a top secret type during the cold war...I already had enough fear issues), but really, that odd little game was the genesis of...well...not just this story, but a lot of my love of writing. So, thanks mom.
Previous Chapters: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 |
Afterworld:
Into the Arms of Darkness
Chapter 20
Horrified, Natalia turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of Emma out of the corner of her eye, even as she became aware of movement near the window.
Josh.
Another rage-fueled scream and suddenly he was up and moving, seemingly faster and more in control than he had been only moments before, his gaze fixed on Emma's tiny frame like a high-tech laser-targeting system.
He lunged, hurtling at Emma with preternatural speed.
A body shot wouldn't even slow him down and his head and neck were at the wrong angle to be certain of doing enough damage with one shot. And she didn't have enough time for two shots before he would be on Emma.
Which left her only one choice.
Shifting her grip on the shotgun as she moved, Natalia took two strides forward and swung it baseball-bat style in one move. The sandlot ball of her youth had been all hardball, played with the boys until her mother had forbade such things as unladylike, and all played on a field that didn't have a wall, so home runs were all about getting distance and lift.
Choke the bat, plant your feet for leverage, get your back and shoulders behind the ball, then start your swing low and take it high.
She met him in the middle of the room, slamming the shotgun barrel into his midsection with every last bit of strength she possessed, the power behind the blow enough to send him careening.
Josh and Emma screamed at the same time, but Natalia barely heard. Josh was already starting to regain his balance, his gaze still full focused on Emma.
Natalia followed him two steps, then another hard swing.
If he'd been any of the others, she'd have been dead, but he was so slowed and so damaged that he didn't have the strength to resist the blows or the speed to avoid them.
He screamed at her and she took another swing. If she didn't, Emma was dead.
Another scream, another swing.
And suddenly he was poised and swaying in front of the window.
A final swing.
It would have been a homer in her playground days. No question about it.
The blow took him off his feet and into the window frame. Powerful arms spread and he grabbed, instinctively trying to arrest his fall. Only he still didn't understand he had no hand on his left side. His arm slipped out the gaping hole. A few remaining shards of glass broke away, knocked free by the impact and then he lost his balanced and toppled.
The dull, thudding sound of a body hitting grass reached her ears a second later.
Natalia flinched in time with the concussive sound, then staggered forward. She didn't want to see, but couldn't look away either. He was sprawled in the grass, but moving, rolling and scrambling ungracefully in his desperation. His head tipped back and he stared at her, his expression seeming hurt and disbelieving to her eyes. She tried to tell herself it was her imagination, that they didn't think or feel in any real sense, but she couldn't escape the sense of being accused of a betrayal. His mouth moved, the sound he made low and pathetic, and she could have sworn she made out the word, "Why?" amid the garbled noises.
Shaking violently, she lurched back a step in an effort to escape.
Outside, there was a low, moaning sound, inarticulate and muffled, but with a rhythm suspiciously similar to her name.
Stumbling back another step, she nearly collapsed.
Another moan, keen and lowing, blending into the rhythm of words meant to be said in the dark of night when promises and accusations flow equally freely.
He was calling to her.
In that moment, Natalia broke.
A wrenching sob shook her frame as her body seemed to buckle in on itself.
He was still there, still crying out, and she begged the universe to stop her brain from assembling the disjointed sounds into words that chastised and accused. Her abdomen compressed with another body torquing sob that left her fighting to fill lungs that cramped into paralysis and screamed for oxygen.
She couldn't do it anymore. Could. Not. Do. This.
Barely clinging to the shotgun with her fingertips, she felt the shape of the stock against the side of her head as she pressed her palms flat over her ears, blocking out the keening wail from outside.
Nobody deserved this, not even-
"Natalia?" Small and painfully frightened, Emma's voice somehow slipped past the barricade of her palms. Maybe it was the pitch, high and childish, nothing like what Natalia feared to hear. Or perhaps it was the clarity, real words where the imagination needed to fill nothing in. Or perhaps it was nothing at all, simply the fevered imagination of her own conscience reminding her she had a place and a task.
And a child.
Suddenly, she was up, moving, grabbing for the shutters and slamming them shut as quickly as possible, then pushing the latches back in place and grabbing for the restraining bar to shove it home.
The window was on the second floor with almost no danger of anything getting in.
But she needed to block him out.
Needed to-
"Natalia?" Emma said and Natalia honestly wasn't sure whether she was repeating herself for a third time or only a second.
"Emma." Remembering all the dangers that could hide even in seemingly safe and banal places, she spun, eyes darting to child watching uneasily, then past her to the hallway, searching for any other predators in their midst. She shifted the shotgun from the unwieldy baseball bat grip back into firing position. "You shouldn't...shouldn't be..." she trailed off, leaving off speech in favor of stepping past the girl to search the hallway. "It's not safe. You could've been..." She couldn't even finish the thought. It hurt too much. Her heart twisted and she had to reach out, brushing a hand along the girl's cheek and shoulder to reassure herself she was okay. "Don't ever come down without permission again," she pleaded.
"I couldn't see what happened and when you didn't come up, I was afraid that..that you were..." Emma whispered raggedly, then held up the tiny pistol she'd aimed at Natalia the night before.
Had it just been the night before?
"I knew right where my gun was in the kitchen..." Her voice was tiny and defensive. "...'n' I thought you were in trouble...'n' I could help."
Natalia stared at the girl. It wasn't right or fair. No child should have to take this level of responsibility upon themselves.
No child, no adult, no human being whatsoever.
And yet, here they were.
In that moment, Josh was forgotten as she dropped to her knees, the shotgun still up and ready, but her attention focused on the child. She ran her free hand down a small arm as she searched for any sign of injury even as she kept a close watch on the hallway and listened for any sound of movement.
As if to make up for her defiance of the rules, Emma quickly added, "I checked the house, 'n' there's no more inside."
Natalia nearly broke for a second time in minutes, the horror almost enough to tear-burn her eyes into blindness and swell her throat until she could barely breathe.
Tiny fingers squirreled into her hand as if seeking safety and she couldn't escape the frightened, green eyes staring up at her.
"Natalia?" Emma whispered so softly that no sound slipped through, but Natalia saw the delicate shape of her name on cupid's bow lips. "It's okay...you aren't alone."
No, she wasn't. She had this tiny human being relying on her and she was screwing it up. Natalia let out a harsh gasp as though the air was driven from her lungs by a hard blow, then dragged in a breath, forcing seized muscles to react. Whatever her sins, she had no right to let them drive her to another failure. Squeezing the hand caught in her own, she nodded. "I'm sorry if I scared you, sweetie. You're right," she added and felt her heart clench with terror even as it lightened with a kind of joy she'd thought had left the world. "I'm not alone...and neither are you..."
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TBC