I had no idea how long I had been here for, but I had found it impossible to move after what had happened in the car.
I hadn't woken up. I tried falling asleep and hoping that when I awoke, I would be back to the normal world, but it never worked.
I had to get out the house. Everything about this place, I can't explain it. It brings nothing but ugly memories to the surface and I don't need that right now.
Breathing in deep, I pushed myself up and pulled the bag of guns up with me. I heaved it up onto my shoulder and bent over with the weight. Why was this so heavy?
I returned to the kitchen and searched the cupboards, it was empty except a packet of pasta, two tins of sweetcorn and one of baked bean. Taking the tins, I ran to my bedroom and picked up two random t shirts and underwear from the suitcase. After pushing it all deeper into the bowling bags, I took out a shotgun. It felt cold in my hands, and I pulled down the forend to check for bullets. Two. My father had taught me a while back about the safety rules needed to use a loaded gun and about how to reload. He use to hunt, and he'd always promised me that one day I would join him on his explorations, but that day never came.
I walked past the land rover, begging myself not to take a second look. It wasn't worth it, I didn't want to take another glance. I would come back for him, burying him or something. Right now though, I had to find my parents.
The street was completely abandoned and the town, itself, was soundless. Cars had been left in the middle of the road and doors left open. The electricity line that usually cracked with energy, hung motionless and muted. The sky was still full of dark mist, was that smoke I smelt?
I carried on walking down the street, swerving empty cars and lifeless bicycles.
"Hello? Anyone?"
My voice had returned to me, but my throat still burnt from misuse.
No reply, no noise whatsoever.
It was like something out of a movie. It was all too freaky to believe. Had to be a dream. Had to be a dream.
Suddenly a shuffling of feet, made me jerk. I swerved round to find a man. He was walking towards me, hunched and slow. He was as skinny as a twig, looking fragile and dirty. His clothes torn and grey in this dark daylight. Wait. Was that blood? He's hurt himself, should I help him?
The man let out a slow groan, he looked in pain. I slowly walk closer to him.
"Hello? Can you help me? My mother and father are missing. Where is everyone?"
He rose his head to the sound of my voice. It wasn't till then did I get a clear view of his face.
"What the hell?"
I moved away, step by step backwards.
He growled again, teeth baring.
I turned round and ran, ran as fast as my slow legs would let me. I could feel him running behind me, I could hear him roar.
Screaming, panting, holding tight onto my shotgun. I had to get help.
I shouted out, but there was no reply, except the roars that felt closer to me then ever. I turned round to find him getting close, hands reaching out, trying to grab onto my arms. His tongue flicked up and down his teeth, licking what looked like blood.
Crying, I ran into a nearby house that had a open front door. Charging up the steps on the porch, I pulled the door around to close me in.
It was banging on the window, roaring and screeching. I locked the door and pulled a chair from the dining room, as support.
Tears rolled down, I was going to die. It wanted me dead.
The thing kept kicking at the window, soon it was going to crash the glass.
"No, please no!" I scream, which only excited him.
I suddenly remember the shotgun in my hands. As I pulled it up to level, I chocked up a few tears. With my shaking hands, I tried to steady it. The monster just kept on screeching and banging on the window.
Slowly and carefully I pulled the trigger. The force pushed my arm back, as the bullet flew. It shattered the window and went through his jaw. He groaned as blood seeped out of the wound, the bullet forced his head back and it cracked away from his neck. He fell.
Without further warning I ran, straight to the back door. To my disappointment, it was locked.
I turned round, the thing was still on the ground and motionless, he had to be dead.
I began searching the cupboards and drawers for the keys, but had no luck. It had to be here somewhere.
The cracking of glass, made me freeze in shock. I was not alone. Quietly I ducked under the kitchen table and held onto the shotgun tight as I sat there. The sound carried on, someone or something was moving around the broken window. The noise changed to footsteps, slowly walking on the wooden floor. I sat shaking, as I caught sight of a set of feet. They were in pieces, shredded skin and dripping with blood.
Splat. Splat. Splat.
The blood fell, leaving pools on the wooden floor.
It hissed, spat and stumbled over his feet.
It was searching for something.
I raised the shotgun up and focused. Pulling back the trigger, I began to shiver nervously.
Bang! The thing roared as the bullet cut his leg into two. He collapsed onto the floor and stayed there shaking. Dark blood started to seep out. Taking this as my cue to run, I pushed the chairs away and pulled myself up. I had to exit through the front door, the back was a death trap.
Something suddenly grabbed onto me and started to pull. I turned round to see the thing on the floor aiming his open mouth at my foot, his boney hands rapped round my legs.
"Get off of me!" I screamed, kicking at him, trying to shake him loose.
Yelling, I hit him on the head with the butt of the shotgun, it went through his rotting flesh. Three, four, five times more, each hit creating a deeper dent in his head, but he still continued to pull.
I growled and reached over to the kitchen worktop, pulling a knife out of a nearby stand. Twisting round, I plummeted it into the skull and pushed it further down. The crunching of bones could be heard under the skin, as I wiggled the blade about. The thing's mouth paused and his grasp lessened. He stopped.
Kicking him off of me, I dropped the bloody blade on the floor -it clattered on the boards - and as I looked around, I realised I was surrounded by blood.
"Wow man, you're lucky that thing didn't bite you."
I jumped at the sound of his voice. A large, bearded man stood at the door. His face was surrounded with dark long hair, you could hardly see his features through the curtain of black. He was wearing a lumberjack jacket and thick heavy boots. In his large hands, a rifle was rested.
He began to speak again, but as I started to feel dizzy, his words became distorted.
"Man, we have to go" He pulled me up and held me. "Don't zone out, focus. We have a long way to go."
Want to find out what happens next? Part 3, 'Blame It On Me' is now up and ready to read. Check it out and thank you for reading!
