Notes: I don't know where this is going, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone! I haven't written anything in a couple years so... yeah. Sort of a zombie AU— there's definitely a lot of inspiration from the genre, along with Silent Hill and various creepypasta. I went with the name Emma for Jack's sister because it sounded better to me than anything else. Warnings for violence and character death. 23/05/13 EDIT - I'm currently rewriting parts of the story and added a bit to the prologue.
Frontier of Ashes
Prologue
It was a moonless night when an ordinary shadow in an ordinary park impossibly split open.
The faint sounds of the nocturnal creatures ceased as they scattered and the soft rustling of the treetop breeze ceased. Even the distant sound of passing car was suddenly muted. A homeless man stopped snoring, rolling over on the bench he used as a bed. Nearby, the lamp post's light flickered.
In the silence a tall figure slipped out. It was easy to mistake for just another tree's shadow, long-limbed and stretched thin, until two golden eyes blinked open, darting back and forth. Searching, until they caught sight of the sleeping man. It glided over to loom over him.
"Yes, you will do," it whispered, reaching out to gently touch the man's face, fingertips leaving trails of ash that sunk into his skin. He shivered, grimacing, but did not awaken as the figure chuckled.
A smile of sharp teeth flashed, there and gone, as the figure melted back into the trees as quickly as it appeared.
There was something different about the shadows, now. They trembled and then stilled, as if to take a deep, anticipatory breath.
Six Months Later...
When Jack was a kid sleep was a stupid thing. His days, spent running around the nearby woods with his friends, were too full of a million possible adventures and fun things to find to end so quickly when the sun went down. That meant his parents often chased him around when it was bedtime, a hide-and-seek that ended with tickling and pillow fights. Then, tired but still unwilling to close his eyes, his mom or dad would tell stories and sing lullabies until he finally dozed off. Eventually, Jack was able to fall asleep without these things, and when Emma came along she was usually out before anyone could even get her to bed.
So Jack hadn't heart a lullaby in a long time, but somehow that was the first idea to pop into his head as he watched his younger sister stare into the darkness and try and smother her coughing.
"You want me to sing you something?" Jack asked, whispering. There wasn't really a point in being quiet, but it felt safer. Emma shifted to look up at him from where she sat sideways in his lap, eyes a little wide as she nodded and Jack grinned. "Okay, but you can't make fun of me!"
"Then sing something good!" Emma exclaimed.
"Hey, anything I do will be, because I'm the one singing it."
Emma smiled as Jack wracked his memories for the old lullabies their mom and dad would sing to him. He glanced up to the window and the night sky beyond it. There was always twinkle twinkle little star, right?
He had to cycle through a few different nursery rhymes, humming when he couldn't remember the words, until Emma's face relaxed into sleep. Sighing, Jack glanced around the tiny space they'd been trapped in; there was barely enough room for himself.
It was the laundry room of a townhouse Jack had scouted out earlier in the day, with not much in it besides bottles of detergent and lint bunnies. He'd shoved the washing machine in front of the door, leaving the opposite corner free for Jack to slump in with Emma across his lap, pressed between the walls and cool metal of the dryer. How had anyone done their laundry in such a cramped space?
At least there was a single, high window to let in enough moonlight to chase away the dark.
Normally the siblings camped among the water towers and chimneys of the rooftops, avoiding other people during the day and the shadows at night, but the evenings were growing colder as summer gave way to fall. Plus, Jack didn't want to take the chance that staying outdoors would worsen the cough Emma had, and chose the empty townhouse to stay in, but while rummaging around the kitchen for food they'd found it no longer empty.
He'd grabbed his sister and made for the attic, to escape out the vent they'd come in through, but they hadn't made it in time, and were forced to wait them out in the laundry room Jack had dashed into instead.
If it had been a shadow they might not have made it, but it had just been one of the leftovers of whoever was unlucky enough to get caught. Jack didn't know what to call them: zombies, or monsters, or simply the dead? None of it covered the wrongness of them.
Jack pushed a foot against their backpack, flexing his toes. He wanted to turn on a flashlight, but it would be a waste of batteries. Artificial light could ward off the shadows as easily as natural light, but the thing outside wouldn't be deterred from a hunt by even the brightest flashlight. Something brother and sister knew too well— Jack squeezed his itchy, dry eyes shut and breathed past the lump in his throat, head throbbing.
The only safe option was to wait it out, but that left him with not much to do but think and there was a lot he didn't want to think about these days.
Jack's butt was already numbed from Emma's weight; he didn't dare move in case it woke up, and her heaviness was reassuring in a way... food was getting harder to find. All they had left in their pack was a half-empty bag of trail mix and a package of crackers that were tasteless and stale. They'd had their last can of fruit cocktail for breakfast that morning. Not that Jack liked carrying canned food around anyway— it weighed him down when he jumped between rooftops.
His eyes shot open when Emma barked out a cough, then kicked Jack in the thigh as she tried to roll over in her sleep, and he took the opportunity to slump a little and get more comfortable. He pushed her dirty hair out of her face to press the back of his hand to her forehead, unable to tell if she felt too hot or too cold. Maybe they could find somewhere to bathe after they'd gathered more food. He didn't know how much of the woods were left, but the lake might still be there. In the summers they'd go out there to swim, and last winter they'd gone ice skating on it.
They needed heavier jackets, too, and more medicine beside the aspirin and nausea tablets he'd found someone's medicine cabinet to refill their nearly-empty first aid kit. Approaching a pharmacy or grocery was a huge risk, because if they hadn't been looted they would be guarded. Jack still had the bruises from when he'd tried a gas station last week and found it occupied by a gang of unfriendly survivors. Luckily, he'd had Emma stay up on the roof that time.
The list of everything they needed, everything they didn't have, grew longer every day even as what was available dwindled down into the hungry mouths of those who were left.
And he kept making mistakes.
Jack stared up at what he could see of the moon and tried to think of the right choice.
Outside, he could hear it scratching at the blocked door, whimpering to be let inside.