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Her legs were starting to lose feeling after awhile as she hid in an alley behind a dumpster. It was a stupid move on her part, because she had carelessly cornered herself. She drew her legs in and held her arms tightly to her sides, trying not to stick out from behind the dumpster. She was crouching in a smelly liquid, one that had spilled over the side and pooled in the crevice between it and the concrete wall. It had probably sat there for two weeks, festering in the sun, since no one was around to get the garbage. Lauren held her breath as she heard their footsteps coming closer. Although it wasn't cold outside, in fact it was probably in the nineties, a shiver traveled down her spine and spread throughout her body. She heard them, as clear as day, pause at the opening of the alley.
Oh, god, please no, she prayed. Please don't let them come down here. God, oh, please.
She heard their raspy breaths echo off of the concrete, and she stiffened and drew herself in tighter, almost crushing her sides. Suddenly, her prayers were answered, and a car alarm some blocks away went off, distracting them and throwing them off her trail. The zombies continued past, and she could hear them groan as they followed the source of the noise. She was drenched in sweat, and for a few minutes she couldn't pry her arms away from her body. After the shock her muscles relaxed and she fell over into the liquid sludge. She didn't care, because it was either that or the zombies. It took a few attempts to stand up because of her numb legs, but once she did she cautiously peered around the corner.
No sign of them. That was always good. She edged her way out of the alley, and turned in the opposite direction of where the zombies had gone. She ran as fast as her sore legs could take her, stopping only when she thought she saw movement. For Lauren Brent, this sort of thing would've never happened in her wildest dreams.
She had never believed in the living dead, if that's what they were. She was a practical woman in her early twenties, a middle school teacher with a boyfriend and a modest apartment. Or, at least, she was. The last time she saw her boyfriend alive was two weeks ago, on the day when he had cooked her an anniversary dinner to celebrate two-and-a-half years together. He had died before she got home from work.
He was going to propose to her, she later found out. That had been a horrible night. If it had started at any particular moment, she believed it was that night. For awhile the news had been talking about possible terrorist attacks with some sort of biological weapon to kill thousands, possibly wipe out millions. Everyone was secretly waiting for an attack and as the days crept by nothing happened, and it quieted down a bit. Then, that night, people started just dying. In the streets, they would just keel over and that was that. Or so it seemed. Her boyfriend was one of them. She had arrived home at 5:30 and found him sprawled across the kitchen floor. She had checked his pulse, which was nonexistent. There was no blood, no fracture, no sign or cause of death. He was just dead. She tried calling nine-one-one, but the lines were busy.
Carefully, she laid him on his back and had covered him with a quilt. Sobbing, she had turned the television on and it showed pure chaos. She sat on her couch crying, not knowing what to do, when on the news the worst had happened; the dead were rising and attacking people. She didn't believe it; she knew it must have been a sick joke. But as the night went on she knew that it had to be real, especially when her boyfriend appeared again in front of her. It had been hell, she had thrown anything she could at him, and when he didn't stop coming at her she had rushed upstairs and grabbed the 9mm semi-automatic they had kept in their bedroom closet. He went down after a couple of shots in the head, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Before he died she thought she heard him grunt her name, but she quickly dismissed it.
She sat there, locked in the bathroom, crying all night. He hadn't looked like a zombie. He still looked alive, his skin had lost some color but he looked the same, except for the eyes. His eyes had rolled back, exposing the whites. She knew now the only reason he didn't look like the things chasing her was the fact that he had died only hours before he had risen again. She had stayed in her apartment for a few days and decided she would try to go to her parent's house to see if they were okay. She loaded a backpack and started her car. She hadn't made it far when the zombies attacked her and she was thrown off the road. She only nearly escaped and had fled behind a grocery store. She waited there for a few hours with a mother and son, only to be met with a group of undead.
She had made an escape, but she never knew what happened to the others. At that time there were still people alive, the ones that hadn't randomly died and were trying to escape. She was sure now that she was one of the few ones left. Exhausted, she rounded a corner and ducked behind an abandoned car. She grabbed her backpack from her shoulders and rifled through the contents; ammo, a flashlight and extra batteries, some band-aids and med-sprays, a bottle of water, an extra change of clothes, and finally pulled out an oatmeal bar. She knew she had to be quick, staying too long outside was a sure way of death. She opened the wrapper and immediately regretted it. The noise from the wrapper cut through the eerie silence like a siren. It said, "Come and get it, your dinner is ready." She threw the bar into her backpack and quietly zipped it up. Crawling alongside the vehicle, she raised the gun and scanned the horizon for the undead. There were cars strewn sporadically across the street, garbage fluttered with the breeze, and glass covered the sidewalks from the broken-out windows of the stores. There was not a god-damned bird in the sky. She weaved in between the cars, occasionally glancing back.
"Shit," she muttered under her breath as she heard the tell-tale noises from down the street. She should have known better than to stop in the open and rest. It was this kind of mistake that would most surely lead to the end of her. She quickened her pace, staying low and hoping that the zombies couldn't see her. As she sidled to the next car, she heard their footsteps echoing behind her. They were gaining fast.
She quickened her pace, apprehensive to use her gun in fear that it would attract more of them. She slid her way in between two buildings, trying to cut through to the other side of the street without giving her position away. They were close together, wide enough for her to just fit through. She edged her way to the other side and, winded though she was, continued down the street. There had been at least three of them chasing her, and after a few minutes of caution she slowed down. It was quiet again. That dead silence that was almost as bad as the wailings of the zombies. Almost.
She kept to the side of the road, ducking behind anything she could. As she made her way around a truck and two SUV's, she heard a rattling sound. She froze, gun pointed in the direction of a green station wagon. There was movement in the car, enough so that the wheels moved slightly. Lauren inched her way closer, and peered into the window of the back seat. A body was lying across the leather seats. Her hand trembled as she reached for the door handle, ready to fire in a second. As the handle was pulled, the body shot up, screaming almost as loud as Lauren herself. She backed up, gun raised, and was about to fire when the old woman inside the car threw her hands up and said, "Don't shoot! I'm alive!"
The old woman laid a hand across her heart and took slow breaths. Lauren lowered her weapon, feeling her own heart beat fast after the shot of adrenaline. "You scared the shit out of me, Blondie," the woman stepped out of the car and stretched. "I could say the same, old woman." Although slightly irritated, Lauren was glad to see another living person. It had been awhile since she had talked to someone, and the silence was getting to her. "
My name is Carol, by the way. And I know what you're thinking, but I'm not as old as I look." She was eyeing the gun in Lauren's hand, and before she could speak Lauren said, "Does this piece of junk run?" Carol let out a half-hearted laugh that sounded more like a raspy cough, and replied, "Well, do you think I'd still be in this hell hole if it did? Of course not!" She lowered her voice and looked around before she continued.
"The only reason I was in there in the first place is because those things got a sight of me and I had to get the hell away quick. Good thing they didn't see me duck in the car, or I would've been dead for sure." Carol glanced at the gun again and said, "By the way, do you have any more of those? I could sure use one, Blondie." Lauren shook her head. "No, this is the only one I have, and I'm starting to run low on ammo." She checked the magazine, and only a few were left.
"Anyway, I'm Lauren Brent. Nice to meet you." She held out her hand. Carol nodded and said, "I'm not very good with names, so don't get mad if I call you Blondie." Lauren dropped her hand to her side and looked around. The street was deserted, but the sun was starting to set. Soon it would be dark, and dark was bad. "I don't care whatever the fuck you call me, as long as I stay alive. Now, do you want to come along?" Carol smiled and said, "I like your attitude. Sure, I'll come with you, I could use the company."
" Nights alone here really can mess someone up, you know?" Lauren nodded. She knew all too well the horrors of the darkness, listening to the shuffling footsteps of the living dead, too afraid to sleep. She started walking, and Carol followed behind her. "All I ask is that you can keep up. I'm not too good at shooting this thing, so I usually have to rely on a quick getaway." Carol sure kept pace pretty easily with Lauren, so she doubted if walking was going to be a struggle. "Can you run? I mean, not to offend you, but you're not exactly a spring chicken, are you?" Carol shook her head and said, "No, I'm not as young as I used to be. But let me tell you something, I sure don't feel fifty-eight." Carol had short, silvery gray hair that was curled around her head in wisps. She had pallid skin and thin lips, and wore white-rimmed glasses.
Despite this, the short woman had an air about her that suggested she would be more than able to run from hordes of swarming dead. They walked for around thirty minutes before stopping in front of a small convenience store. After cautiously checking the inside, Lauren gave the okay to Carol and they set up a small shelter for the night. They had pushed some shelves in front of the door and windows, almost completely blocking out the last rays of sunlight. Sitting in the corner and eating some of the various food items that hadn't spoiled, Lauren learned that Carol had been living by herself in a small trailer park when her next door neighbor Edna, who had been visiting, had a heart attack.
Carol tried to call the ambulance, but like Lauren, the line was busy. That was when Edna had lunged at Carol and tried to bite her. Carol said she beat her with a lamp but nothing had slowed her aged neighbor. She said that Edna was speaking in a garbled language that she didn't understand, and finally the corpse went down after several blows to the head. Carol had heard screams coming from outside and a few more of the residents were being mauled down by the creatures. Carol said she ran from her house, but ended up being chased out of the trailer park and into the city, at last ending up hiding out in the station wagon.
They sat in darkness, listening to the noises that were stirred up by the night. Outside there was scratching on the side of the building, and moaning coming from every direction. They probably knew the two women were holed up inside of the convenience store. The silence between them was broken when Carol said, "Why do you think this started, anyway? Do you think it's because Hell got too full, and now the dead walk the earth with tormented souls?" Lauren shook her head. "I don't believe that's what happened. I don't know what I believe. All I know is that things are never going to be the same. I'm still in shock from all of it. Doesn't seem real, you know?" Carol nodded. Lauren tried to hide the tears welling up in her eyes, but eventually they started to flow down her face. The rain fell outside with her tears.