CHAPTER ONE

Scuffling feet crept past the door at an agonisingly slow pace, the sickening groans of their owners loud and clear. They got quieter and quieter, until they were just… gone. Fourteen year-old Eileen hesitated before shooting out of the doorway where she had been hiding. There were most likely more just around the corner. They had a keen sense of smell, so it wouldn't be long before they come back and found their prey. Regardless of whether or not there were others nearby, she had to move quickly, or they would make the decision for her.

She peaked around the door, ready to jump back inside if she spotted a walker. Looking both ways, she was relieved to see that there were none in her sight. Quietly sneaking out, she headed down the alleyway that she had gotten stuck in earlier, thankful that she was able to escape it at last. She had been there for nearly an hour, because whenever one pack disappeared, another would appear, sniffing around for lunch. The smell was awful, thanks to the rotting corpse in the corner, where a man. But as distasteful as it was, it had helped to shield her scent, so she was somewhat grateful for that.

She knew not to walk down the street, as she was an easy target. As easy as it was to think that she could just run if she saw one, it was more difficult than that. They were persistent and had a lot of stamina. They would follow her until she was too exhausted to stand up, and then they would gleefully tear into her flesh. The last part was a chilling memory for Eileen, who had seen some awful things since the outbreak. She was keen not to become a meal, so stuck to the side streets and back gardens.

A small picket fence stood in front of her, coated in spattered blood. The owner had clearly reanimated and scuttled off somewhere, but she still approached with caution, kitchen knife at the ready. A quick survey of the immediate area taught her that she was alone for now, so she had time to carefully climb over the fence without injuring herself. That was the worst thing you could do in the apocalypse: injure yourself. You were as good as dead, because it slowed you down. Another chilling reminder for Eileen resurfaced.

After safely vaulting the fence, she continued across the fences separating the various back gardens. She was back on a side street after vaulting her fifth fence, considering taking shelter in one of the houses, and then reconsidering straight away. She would be more vulnerable in a house, where there was less space to defend herself. Outside was more convenient. More space to run and fight.

Coincidentally, the pack of walkers that she had escaped earlier just appeared around the corner. That was one thing inside was good for: hiding. But right now she was out in the open, with nowhere to duck behind, so she found eight walkers staring at her, licking their lips.

Run or fight? Definitely run.

She took off, jogging down a back alley with them in hot pursuit. She couldn't sprint because her energy would be depleted quickly and she would be caught pretty quickly. Her only hope was to run for a while and then quickly find a hiding place that they would not notice. At that moment, it was not as simple as it sounded. They were matching her speed, and another pack was loitering around the entrance to the only other side street she could see. She had a few seconds before they spotted her and gave chase, and there was only one way that she could go: the road.

It was common survivor knowledge that the road was off limits, but she had no other choice. She could only hope that there was some sort of escape route waiting for her. That hope was diminished when she nearly ran into another pack lingering in the middle of the road. Disoriented and tired, they were slow to react, giving her time to dodge past them. But more packs of walkers started appearing, blocking off escape routes. Soon she was cornered by dozens, forced to enter one of the houses. A walker was hot on her heels, so she slammed the door in his face, causing him to fall backwards and trip up several of them. It was a knock-on effect; the other walkers were stuck behind their fallen comrades, so none of them could move forwards and pursue Eileen. This gave her plenty of time to slip out the back door and make her way back to the side streets…

A walker shot out from behind a door and launched itself at her. It was male, with an average build and soaked in fresh blood, on the teeth and clothes. He knocked her to the ground, and she slammed her head against the wall. The sudden attack had caused her to let go of the knife, which slid across the wooden floor and stopped by a coffee table maybe two metres away. The walker climbed on top of her, trying to bite her. She quickly grabbed his head with both hands, trying to force him away. Despite the plague having weakened his body, he was still relatively strong, so Eileen struggled to hold him back. She pushed with her feet, and threw him off her.

She dived for the knife, locked her fingers around it and twisted around, just in time as he lunged for her again. This time she was ready, and she plunged the knife into his forehead. He ceased movement and sagged slightly, collapsing to the floor and blood leaked out from around the knife.

But her victory was short-lived. The walkers had found their way inside and three of them appeared in the doorway. She had no time to retrieve the knife as she darted for the back door.

Thirty-seven walkers followed the defenceless, unarmed girl, groaning in pleasure as they prepared for lunch.