Daddy Loves You
The food was gone.
The food was gone, and there were many reasons not to go outside. For one, it was cold enough outside to see one's breath, which never happened around here. For another, there was a hoard of hungry zombies trying to eat us roaming the streets. Yeah, that was a good reason. But the food was gone, and my son was hungry.
"Buckie, listen, Daddy's gotta go outside for a little while, okay?"
The little blonde boy looked up at me, suddenly very frightened.
"But the zombies—"
"You let me worry about them zombies, okay. I have to go get us more food so we can wait 'em out. Jus' wait here with the doors locked for me to come home and don't open the door no matter what, okay?"
Buck nodded solemnly, still looking up at me with those huge blue eyes of his. "Okay."
"And stay away from the windows."
"Okay."
"And lock the door behind me."
I turned away, feeling sick to my stomach. How could I leave him alone, even for a minute? He was tiny and defenceless...
"Daddy?" I looked back at him, hoping to hell he wasn't about to ask me to stay, because I wouldn't be able to say no. But he just smiled and said, "Bring Twinkies, please," and I nodded and left, because I had a duty to that little boy. I had to keep him alive, and that meant getting to the grocery store down the street.
I heard the lock click behind me, and so did every zombie on the street. It hurt like hell as I raised the shotgun that usually hung above my mantle and pulled the trigger and it hurt as they fell. That was Mrs. Johnson from down the street... and that was Buck's soccer coach... I was committing murder to save myself, and it tore at a once strong heart.
I got to the store alright, pulling the trigger a total of fourteen times; fourteen kill-shots. "They're not people, they're zombies. Not people, zombies," I kept repeating as I grabbed a cart and began piling it full of uncontaminated food. On my way out I grabbed a box of Twinkies.
The way home was surprisingly easier, even with me pushing a shopping cart home, because the streets were devoid of zombies. I thought it was because I'd already killed all the ones in the vicinity; I hadn't. I got all the way home and up the front steps when I noticed.
The box of Twinkies fell from my hands and broke open on the cement as I scrambled from my shotgun; the door was ajar and smeared with blood. "Buck?" I whispered, pushing open the door with the barrel of the gun and peeking around the corner. There was no one.
"Buck? Buck, buddy, where...? Where are you?"
My heart was thudding in my chest, hard. All I could think was: not Buck too. Not my son. Not my son.
A thud from above me brought the world back into focus, and I started walking slowly up the stairs, gun pointed ahead of me. The noise had come from the bathroom...
I kicked in the door, and locked eyes with the zombie. She was young, only a little older than Buck, and would have been cute had there not been human tissue dangling from her teeth. She opened her mouth and hissed at me, and I pulled the trigger, blowing her face off. Blood splattered the walls and she fell backwards into the bathtub.
"Buck?"
I took a step into the bathroom, breathing heavy. Buck was lying on the floor next to the toilet, broken. My eyes began to water as he looked up at me with those big, blue eyes and said, "Daddy, I'm sorry." It was a miracle he was still breathing at that point. His chest had been cracked open, and I didn't even want to think about what was missing from it. He was wheezing, blood running from the corner of his mouth. "Daddy, I'm sorry."
"'S not your fault," I whispered, dropping the gun on the linoleum and dropping to my knees. "Buckie, it's not your fault." I took his hand and bowed my head over him, tears falling freely. He coughed, closing his eyes.
"I love you," I told him, kissing his forehead and squeezing his hand. "Daddy loves you."
He died on the floor of my bathroom while I held his hand. A four-year-old boy with his mother's eyes and my nose died because I couldn't protect him. I had nothing left without Buck. The zombies had taken everything from me.
When I was strong even to stand, I left that place. I got into a car and drove away, my shotgun on the passenger seat. The zombies had taken everything from me, now I was going to take everything single one of their lives.
I became a zombie hunter.