FIRST PERSON POINT OF VIEW:
-Flashback-
"Mom? Logan? Come down here, I have something to show you!"
My family had been struggling with the bills for Logan's therapist and recent stay in the hospital after Logan tried to take his own life.
"We're up here, honey. Quiet, he's sleeping. First time all day," my mother whispered hoarsely down the stairs.
I tiptoed up the stairs as quietly as I could, painfully aware of Logan's current state.
"Hi mom," I said quietly and kissed Mom on the forehead, receiving only an empty look from solemn eyes. I handed her the envelope, and watched in anticipation as she tore it open.
Then she saw it; what I had been waiting for.
"But how, Heather? How did you manage this?" And I saw briefly the once so familiar gleam in my mom's eyes.
"A commercial for a skin toner and a photo spread with a company out of New York. We're going to get there, mom, I hope you never thought I wasn't going to do what I can to help."
"Baby," Mother said quietly, happily, putting a hand to her mouth in disbelief.
"Love you," I said, with a grin and quick hug.
"He's not good, Heather." The attention panned back to Logan.
"I know," I replied simply, tugging on a lock of my platinum hair.
At that moment, Logan began to seize: twisting and flailing his arms around, his back spasming and contorting violently.
"Oh my god, mom what do I do?" I screamed, and wiped away the tears that stung my eyes.
"Call 911! He's bleeding out through the bandages," My mother tried to hold his wrists down to ease the loss of blood.
I dialed 911 shakily, and listened as an automated voice blared through the other line.
"Stay calm. Stay away from the infected. Help is on its way."
On repeat.
Mom wailed from over Logan as I came to the realization that it was too late. The blood from Logan's wrists ran bright red, pooling on the crisp white sheets, and his eyes rolled back into his head, choking on a last violent seizure.
"No one's answering mom, it's just a recording. No one. It says to stay calm, and stay away from the infected...what do they mean?" a feeling of dread set in.
I abandoned my questioning when my mother did not answer. We stood together over Logan's seemingly sleeping body; but there was no rise and fall of his chest, no peaceful fluttering of his eyelids. He was gone, and there was nothing else that could be done.
Suddenly, Logan's eyes flew open and he drew in a raspy, distorted breath.
"Logan, honey?" My mother asked, placing pressure on the wrists once again.
Then I heard it. Distinctly, but so faintly at first: Logan began to growl. His mouth, bloodied from biting his own tongue during the seizures, opened slightly, showing that his gums had blackened. His eyes squinted up at his mother, and Heather saw them: swollen and jaundiced, with rings of red around the iris.
It all happened too fast for me to understand. He sat up with such force that his mother would have flown to the ground, yet he grabbed her wrists and pulled her towards him.
"Oh sweety," I heard my mother whisper, and she reached to put an arm around her son. That's when I heard it. The sound of flesh tearing, and the piercing scream of Mom as Logan sunk his teeth into her neck. Arterial spray hit the walls of the otherwise white room, and she gurgled for breath, gasping and crying.
Logan was eating her.
I rushed forward, not knowing exactly what to do, but I pulled my mother away, still breathing but barely. Logan's other worldly moans increased, and he stood up, following me, whose only protection now was my mother's dying body. I dragged her with some adrenaline induced strength, slammed the door to Logan's room, and toppled down the stairs,never letting go of Mom, through the front door and onto the front lawn.
"Mom? Mom! Please no, please, I need you. Please don't leave me here," I sobbed into my bloodstained hands, gasping for air, and watching my mother do the same.
"I love you so much, my girl," she said, each breath a struggle.
"Please no. Don't go," My windpipe seemed to close as the sobs racked her body. "PLEASE!"
She was gone. Lifeless, pale green eyes staring at nothing.
"Mom. Mom? No. This can't be happening. No!" I shook her shoulders and finally fell back in the grass. The mid morning heat was increasing by the second, and caused me to become sticky with sweat.
I heard the door handle jiggling, and watched in horror as the walking corpse of Logan managed to yank open the door and drag his feet over the threshold.
"No...oh my god, no!" I tried drag Mom's body, but the strength I had possessed before had dissipated into fear, and I ran; ran as fast as I could, and looked back only once, to see Logan feasting on their mother's body.
-present day-
I bit into an apple that I'd found on a recent raid in an elementary school on the outskirts of Atlanta. It had been 30 days since the infection hit, and I'd been on my own ever since. Two days in, I narrowly escaped an attack by locking myself in a Toyota Prius: to my amazement, the keys were still stuck in the slot on the dash.
"Thank god for this hybrid," I said, smiling at the first positive thing to happen in what felt like years, and I drove away as silently as could be, running over the stray bag of bones with a loud clunk. "Bastard," I said, and backed over him again for good measure.
I would go into Atlanta. For what, I didn't know. Supplies? Shelter? To end it all?
It was true, I wanted to die, but for some reason, I pushed on, still unaware and numb to the whole situation. Only my instinctual need to survive remained.
Being on my own highlighted one thing: I am desperately alone, and while I was uncomfortable, there was a certain peace about finally hearing nothing but my own thoughts.
As I turned onto the abandoned junction into the city, I noticed a swarm of the undead feeding on something large that had gone down next to one of the army's tanks. I stopped the car, hoping that I hadn't been seen. Then I saw him; another person, alive and well...maybe not so well, but alive in the least. I would take alive any day over these freaks.
He looked like a small town sheriff, and my thoughts were confirmed when I saw a brown hat with the gold sheriffs badge pinned to the front laying on the ground by the swarm. He was trapped now, under the tank,and just when I was going to try to help him, static interference blare through the stereo and a man's voice made my ears pulsate and ring.
"Don't you dare get out of that car. You've got 20 geeks on your back. Drive as fast as you can down the alley to your left, the make a sharp right. Block that alley with the car and run. There's a gray metal door; someone will be waiting for you," the voice said.
Deafening static.
Chapter 2: Up on the Rooftop
I heard the emergency broadcast system begin to repeat again and hit the power button with force, remembering the same voice the day I called 911 for Logan. Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I did as I was told and spun the wheel sharply to the left. The mysterious radio man was right; just as I hit the gas, a swarm that had broken off from the group by the tank piled onto the side of the car, actually managing to lift a tire from the ground.
If the guy makes it out of the tank, he can thank me later.
I chuckled, despite the seriousness of the situation. I managed to peel the last few remaining bag of bones from the sides of the car as she spun out, leaving a cloud of smoke in my wake, and I grimaced as the blood and remains from whatever had gone down in the street smeared all over the side of the white car.
"Down the alley," I said aloud as I accelerated, hitting trash cans that stood in my way. As I glanced in the rear view mirror, I saw the undead making their way after me, slowly but surely.
"Sharp right...fast, fast,, fast!" I accelerated again, and slammed on the brakes when I came to the alley on my right hand side. I fumbled for the crow bar that had turned into my most valued possession, saying a quick prayer to whoever was listening. The white car blocked the way down the alley for now, I toppled over the console to the passenger's seat, and hurriedly fumbled with the door handle. With a stealthy look behind me, I noticed that only one bag of bones managed to get around the corner, and that one still had a block to go. I hopped out of the car, squeezed between the car door and the fence, and pushed through the gate in the fence that separated me from the gray metal door, just as described by the man on the radio.
The hair on the back of my neck began to prickle as I thought about her hastiness to obey this man.Was it a good idea? Was I being led into a trap? I rushed down the alley, eyes peeled, and saw with relief that the door began to open.
A black guy, bald and rough looking called out, "WALKER!," and pointed behind me.
I spun around in time to see that frail body of an older man, grayed hair on end and matted with his blood. His nose had begun to rot, and the rest of his face was skeletal and gaunt, teeth brown and full of meat and blood. The fear I felt every time I saw one of them up close would never go away. After a moment's hesitation and hearing the thing begin to hiss hungrily, I swung the crow bar and lodged an end right in his eye. The sickening squelch that followed, along with the rotting scent coming from his collapsed eye made me gag as the zombie fell to the ground, still twitching slightly. After regaining my composure, I ran to the door and pounded on it, not having to wait at all. The door swung open and the black guy wrapped his arm around me, pulling me to safety.
"T Dog," he said gruffly, and nodded to me.
"Heather," I said breathlessly, wiping my crow bar off on my pants. I saw a group of other survivors all sitting anxiously. I stopped to observe; something I did so well when I had once had people to look at.
The first person I noticed was a thin blonder girl, like me, but older, and lighter hair. She had icy blue eyes that looked me over coldly. boo hiss. I said in my own head, and could tell immediately I would not get along with this woman. I moved on with a subtle smile, trying to keep the peace. There was a hispanic man with curly black hair who smiled warmly, "Morales." He said with his smooth accent. Before I could finish introductions, we all jumped as we heard a gun fire out in the street.
"Oh yeah, there's a man out in the tank...he was alone, and the last I saw, he managed to climb inside the tank," I said, confused.
"Damnit!" A small Asian man ran past me and out into the alley without hesitation.
"Who the fuck fired a gun? Do they not get it?" Andrea sneered, pulling her own gun out.
"Put it away, Andrea," Morales said, rolling his eyes at the hypocritical move.
Not five minutes later, the Asian man returned, bursting through the door with the sheriff, actually looking rather unscathed, besides being drenched in sweat.
"Glenn. I just saved your ass. Yours too," He said to the sheriff and motioned to me as well.
"And I'm grateful. I'm Rick," the sheriff said, and it was then I heard the voice of a broken man.
"You stupid son of a bitch, I oughta kill you!" Andrea cried out, pointing her gun in Rick's face.
"Andrea, no!" the black woman who Heather hadn't met formally yet said, and begged Andrea to put it away.
"Are you kidding me? We're all dead because of this asshole. He just rang the dinner bell!" Andrea continued.
Let's check the damage," Glenn said, and ran into the back entrance of the department store they were hiding in. Everyone followed in suit, and I let out a muffled gasp as she saw hundreds of walkers pounding on the glass store front windows, snarling, slobbering and just waiting for their opportunity to break through. I immediately felt a wave of nausea.
"What the hell are we gonna do now?" Andrea yelled some more, and just then everybody heard a chorus of more gun shots coming from above.
"Dixon!" T Dog growled and headed off the chase to the roof.
"We'll stay here and try to plan a route out," Morales said, motioning to himself, Glenn and the black woman, who I had heard someone call Jacque.
I hung back with Rick briefly, only to introduce myself.
"I'm Heather," I said, shyly.
"Nice to meet ya. Let's keep up," he said, and placed a hand on the small of my back beckoning me to continue on up the stairs. I found myself slightly turned on from Rick's chaste touch. It had been so long.
Breathless, we all emerged on the rooftop to see a middle aged guy, buzzed gray hair and sallow, wasted eyes and a black leather vest holding up a shot gun and firing shots into the air.
I bent down to tie my shoe, in hopes of avoiding one of my all too common accidents, and lost myself in my own dark thoughts for a moment.
What did I get myself into? It's better than being alone, I suppose.
"...I'll tell you the day, Mr. 'Yo', it's the day that I take orders from a nigger!"
Oh no.
T Dog went to hit Merle, but was knocked on his back with the butt of Merle's rifle.
"Stop!"
"Come on now," Rick yelled.
"Someone, make him stop!" Jacqui wailed.
Merle eased up, only after bloodying T Dog's face and stuck a handgun in his face.
"Anyone else?" Merle asked, grinning his awful grin.
Then there was more scuffling. Suddenly the blue sky began to swirl, mixing in with the clouds, making a beautiful tye dye pattern float before my eyes.
"Help," I whimpered helplessly and fell to the ground, hitting my head with a loud crack on a metal pipe.