The road to hell is paved with good intentions. If that is true, Eric thought, then where does a road that is paved with bad intentions lead? Hell? No. Hell is already here. Eric's pessimistic thought was not far from the truth. A little under a month ago, a strange virus began infecting people. It was first thought to be a normal strain of the flu as observed in the first cases, but it quickly was revealed that it was something much worse. It's more like rabies than anything else, Eric added to himself.
The world had since been plunged into catastrophe. Cities quarantined, riots, and hundreds of thousands dead. Eric shivered. Even worse than the number dead was the number infected. Many people referred to them as zombies, but they weren't, in the sense that they were undead. They infected were very much alive, and very, very dangerous. Almost everyone Eric new was either infected or killed by the infected. He was lucky he himself was still alive.
Why am I still alive? Of all the people for God to spare, he chose me to attempt to escape this nightmare.....
"Hey buttercup! Snap out of it!"
Eric quickly flinched away as he was unceremoniously punched in the arm, and he once again raised his pistol and fired at random infected. He was not alone in his fight for survival. The man who had insulted him and punched him was an imposing body builder, who smoked too much for Eric's liking. Eric thought his name was Mark, or maybe Matt. The other person was not much of an improvement. Although he was small in stature and not nearly as muscular as his companion, he was equally as frightening. Eric knew his name, it was Chris. He had scars on each cheek, and didn't talk much. Although Eric never dared ask him, he suspected he was a convict who escaped in the chaos of the infection.
Eric didn't really feel any kinship or trust in either men. Theirs was simply a bond of necessity. Eric would surely die without the brute force the two possessed, and the two needed Eric to navigate out of the city. Eric didn't really believe he knew the city better than they did, but it was the only lie Eric could think of to get these two to offer to help him get out. They were originally going to kill him and raid his house.
Eric stopped shooting and wiped his brow with his forearm. He decided to conserve his ammo and let Chris and Matt, Mark whatever-his-name was do the killing. Eric then took it upon himself to watch the group's back and examine his surroundings. They were somewhere in New Orleans, he knew that. But beyond that, he didn't know. He remembered that one of the signs in a safe house had a map pointed out a bridge leading to what might be the last evac zone. He hoped to get there soon.
"Aww....done already?" Mark said, sounding genuinely disappointed. The horde that attacked them had been decimated.
"Hold your temper, friend," Chris surprised Eric by talking, "There will always be more to kill. Be happy, for we live another day."
The group talked it over ( i.e. Eric came up with the idea) and decided that finding another safe house was unlikely, so the best bet was to find a house with a bed and take shifts keeping watch until morning. They proceeded cautiously down the city streets, littered with abandoned cars and the bodies of the damned. Eric peered into the broken windows of shops and cars, wondering who once occupied them, and what would have happened to them if the infection never happened.
Just as the sun was setting, the group of three came across a hotel sign eerily illuminated by the headlights of an abandoned car.
"'Lucky Stars Hotel', well, sounds good enough for me!" Matt what's-his-name practically ran for the dilapidated door and peeling paint, sporting a wide grin on his face.
"STOP!" Eric yelled.
Mark,or Matt, came to a dead stop and turned in place to stare Eric in the eyes. "You better have a good reason to keep me from a chance at a good night's sleep, boy. I done most o' the work here, so's I deserve this. Don't be thinkin' that you get rest, boy, you's taking first watch!" He laughed cruelly at this.
Eric felt anger boiling in him, but put it aside. "I don't care about any of that. However, it is foolish for you to run into ANY building by yourself, with your weapon lowered. There could be a hunter or worse in there, you need to wait for us."
He just smirked nonchalantly and said, "You're just scared....If one of us dies you won't be able to fend for yourself."
Eric felt the blood rushing to his face. He was cut deep by the remark. More so since he knew is was completely true.
"Both of you, shut the hell up." Chris walked around Eric and roughly shouldered past an opened-mouthed Matt, rifle at the ready.
Chris slowly pushed open the battered door, so smoothly that it didn't even creak, like Eric expected it to. Chris disappeared into the hotel, and Eric held his breath, expecting the worst. Two shots rang out through the night, and Eric stared in awe and Chris walked out the same door, no hint of fear or doubt on his and stared and his two dumbstruck companions.
"The kid was right. There was a hunter in there. You two coming?"
---------------X----------------
The group shuffled slowly and deliberately up the stairs and unto the second story of the abandoned hotel. Chris took point, Matt or Mark in the middle, and Eric took up the rear. Chris would peer into every room they passed down the connecting hallway with his rifle raised, searching for any hint of danger. The feeling of suspense was thick in the air, and the creaking of the floorboards fit nicely with this theme. The group continued in this fashion down the dreary hallway, their flashlights the only light source for them.
Suddenly, a sound cut through the dreadful silence, a sob. Chris froze, causing the whole team to stop. Eric was confused. Chris seemed to stiffen, his muscles tense, Eric perceived what he thought was fear in the man. This didn't make sense, nothing scared Chris. Nothing.
"Witch." This one word was stated with such bitter distaste and reverence that even though Eric had no idea what an witch was, he was already afraid of it.
The sobbing continued, emanating from a room at the end of the hallway. Chris began moving again, with deliberate caution. Eric flinched every time a board creaked .Why did this witch scare a man like Chris so much, and why were they going towards it? Throughout all of this, Eric had all but forgotten Mark. The body builder had broken out into a cold sweat, and was whimpering ever so slightly to himself. As much as Eric hated the man, he felt involuntary pity for him.
Finally, they were to the door which the crying was unmistakably coming from. Without giving them time to prepare or even feel fear, Chris kicked open the door. Eric hissed as he sucked in breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the attack.
When nothing happened Eric opened his eyes. What he saw was not what he expected. Instead of the monster of his worst nightmares, a frail looking woman covered in rags lay on the floor, crying into her hands. What really surprised him, though, was Chris had not lost the look of fear on his face. Instead, he seemed even more nervous as he slowly aimed his rifle at the witch's head.
Eric had to stop this. This thing couldn't possibly hurt them, it would be murder. "DON'T-"
Chris whipped around with such ferocity and speed that Eric had no time to prepare and Chris violently slammed Eric up against a wall and clamped his hand down on his mouth.
"Not a word." Chris whispered harshly into Eric's ear. "Don't let looks deceive you, that thing is so dangerous, if you startle her, she could kill all three of us. The only way to be safe is to kill her now."
Eric did not struggle and waited for Chris to release him. When he did, he whispered quietly into his ear, "If she is as dangerous as you say, we should leave her alone." Eric did not really believe she was at all dangerous, but he was doing all he could to save her life. He killed infected on a daily basis, and hated himself for it. He could not bring himself to watch as something defenseless was murdered. If he had to play into the man's obvious fears, then so be it.
"We should just leave her here, and continue on with our business. No sense risking a chance of startling her." Eric could tell by the look in Chris's eyes that his words struck deep. Eric was taken aback that Chris seemed so afraid of these witches. So he knew it was out of fear when Chris said this:
"You're right. We'll just have to be extra careful about the noise we make. You take first watch."
With that, Chris noiselessly dashed out of the doorway and down the hall, to a room a suitable distance away. Matt released a long breath, and started after him, looking back once at Eric.
Eric stood there, staring at the witch. He was happy he was able to save her life, but wary of her as well. How could something so small cause so much fear in a man like Chris? Then the witch let out another sob, and his fear was replaced by pity. The witch was alone here, with people trying to kill her, and probably cold, seeing as how she wore nothing but rags. On this last thought, Eric shuffled out of his own light jacket and then he proceeded to attempt to lay it on the witch. He couldn't seem to get close enough without her growling, and when his fear overpowered him, he simply put the jacket next to her. As he hurried to the designated room, he wondered if the witch still knew how to use the jacket, or if she would use it as a blanket.
When he came to the room, he saw both men fast asleep on two cots along either side of the room. Sighing heavily, Eric sat down in the door way, pistol at the ready, and started on his watch. His thoughts continuously wandered however, back to the witch. He felt truly sorry for her. He had a good feeling what it felt like to be alone. He had been alone in his former life.
Is that what I think of it now? The infection has lasted only a month and its my "former life"? Eric sighed again. He was alone now. Anyone who could have possibly comforted him was dead now. He was probably dead too. He wondered if the witch had similar reasons for crying. Did she even remember the life she lost? Eric's thoughts slowly became less coherent as his eyelids strangely became heavy and the doorway felt like the most comfortable thing in the world. He was asleep before he knew what happened.
A/N: Tell me how you liked it. All comments are appreciated. I have big plans for this story, so stick with me here! I have just finished finals so I have lots of free time!!!