Death's Own Kingdom
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.
The farmhouse looked old and weathered in the golden afternoon sun. Nearby trees cast strange, wavering shadows across the grass; when the wind blew the porch swing would creak ominously, its aged wood loudly protesting. Soft yellow light crept through the cracks in the front door and through the holes in the faded and worn curtains as the sky began to darken and night fell. Inside, two girls dozed on a lumpy sofa that had rusty springs poking through the torn quilt that covered it. Half melted candles sat on the coffee table. An old shotgun and a couple of boxes of ammo lay on the rotting carpet.
The younger girl sighed softly, restless in sleep while the elder kept struggling to keep a wary eye on the door as exhaustion tried valiantly to overtake her. The two of them were covered in dirt and sweat as if they hadn't showered for weeks. Their clothes had grass stains and mud stains and stains that looked like dried blood.
They both looked completely and utterly exhausted.
Outside, an owl hooted loudly, and the slumbering girl shuddered before slowly blinking open tired blue eyes. "Mia?" she whispered, her voice husky from sleep. Mia's hand reached out and stroked her little sister's hair. "Go back to sleep, Genie. You need to rest." Genie stretched, yawning noisily. "No, I don't think I will. We need to get moving, Mia. We need to try and find some other survivors if we can, and we can't do that if you are so tired you can't even walk, if you haven't had more than a couple of hours sleep all week." Mia shrugged belligerently. "Mia, we can't stay on our own forever."
"Why not? I swore I'd look after you. And I have, haven't I? I've kept you safe." Genie softened.
"Yeah, you have. All the same, other survivors could mean more people to watch our backs if there's trouble." Sighing, Mia flopped back on the old sofa. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, alright? Go back to sleep."
"No."
"I promise I'll wake you up in a couple of hours and you can be the lookout then."
"No."
"Fine then, you keep watch. If you fall asleep we could be screwed, remember that."
Genie smiled suddenly; a wide, happy grin Mia hadn't seen since the world had ended. "Pinkie promise" insisted Genie, extending her little finger. It made Mia feel like crying at how young the simple gesture made her sister look. She'd almost forgotten that Genie was only 13, just a kid who hadn't acted her age since they'd watched their father eat their mother alive. Mia smiled back weakly. She could feel her eyes watering, and she tried blinking them away. "Promise," Mia said, her voice wavering. "I promise."
Mia shifted uneasily, trying in vain to find comfort in the situation. Genie was watching her with sad eyes, and not for the first time, Mia wondered how much she herself had changed since she had picked up her father's gun and shot her parents in the head. Absentmindedly, she reached for her old comforter, lost in her thoughts. The blanket was thick and warm, and Mia liked to think it still smelt like home. "Go to sleep, Mia. You can protect me again in the morning – let me look after you for once." As Mia drifted off to sleep, she watched her sister in the glow of their remaining candles. Genie looked hungry, cold and tired, but she also looked alive.
Pale light was just beginning to stream through the windows when Mia awoke the next day. Genie had fallen asleep during the night, and she lay curled on her side, snoring vociferously. A small trail of drool ran down her chin, threatening to drip onto the shotgun that still lay in Genie's lap.
Mia elbowed Genie hard in the ribs, and she jerked violently, immediately awake. "What the hell was that for?"
"Well, sleeping beauty, after you fell asleep on your watch last night-"Genie blushed, turning a peculiar shade of red. "Sorry, Mia."
"Just don't do it again, alright? Next time a couple of walkers might realise we're here and we'd be screwed. Anyway, now that you're awake we might as well pack up and move on. I promised we'd try and find some more survivors, and the earlier we leave this place the earlier we can start looking"
"Alright", Genie said, smiling softly. "Thank you, Mia."
Sitting up, Mia yawned, shaking dirty blonde hair out of her face. "I'll sort out the gun and the ammunition – all the food is still in the car, right? You just need to roll up the blankets and salvage whatever candles are still usable."
"Do you want me to check the house again for anything useful?"
"No, we did a pretty thorough search when we got here."
"Let's get going then, boss. Have you checked outside for any stray walkers yet?" A brief look of worry flashed across the elder sister's face. "I hadn't thought about that", Mia groaned. "I should have thought about that. Stupid, stupid." Sharing a look, the sisters moved quietly towards the window and in unison pulled back the curtains.
A man shuffled aimlessly across the front yard. He was tall, and mostly bald. He wore faded denim overalls that were stretched tight across his swollen beer belly. His skin had turned grey in death, and chunks of his flesh had begun to fall off as he rotted. A stub of pale white bone twitched where his left arm had been torn off. His one remaining eye had popped out of its socket, and it bounced against his cheek as he moved. "He's disgusting," Genie whispered happily. "One of the worst I've seen"
"He was probably the owner of this place before the world turned to shit."
"I don't know. I think this house has been abandoned for much longer than that. Besides, all the photos we found looked old, really old."
"Maybe."
Unhappy with their predicament, Mia reached for the shotgun and loaded it. "Finishing packing as quickly as you can. The noise this thing makes will attract more of the dead, and I want to be long gone before any of them get within half a mile of here." Genie stood there for a moment, not moving at all. "Mia, what if he'd noticed us? I was asleep, we were defenceless. What if-"she took a sharp, shuddering breath. "But he didn't, did he? However, he could at any moment, and we need to be ready to go as soon as I pull the trigger." Mia nudged Genie with her foot. "Hurry up!" Rolling her eyes, the younger sister began methodically shoving things haphazardly into duffle bags.
The door squeaked when Mia opened it, instantly attracting the attention of the dead man outside. He grunted, a low, awful sound, and his jaw began moving hungrily as he moved towards the house. Aiming the gun carefully, Mia pulled the trigger and fired, the man's head exploding in a shower of blood and brains. "C'mon, let's go." Mia called to her sister. Genie appeared behind her, loaded with bags and grinning. "All sorted, Mia. I'm just waiting on you."
Within moments the sisters had everything in their car, an old Toyota that might have been white once but was now too covered in dust and mud to tell. As they drove away, Genie looked at the farmhouse. In the morning light it looked haunted and menacing, hostile to anything that wasn't as dead and decaying as itself.
Shivering, Genie turned her eyes to the road. She did not look back again.