Screams. That's what I woke up to. Terror filled, nightmarish shrieks that chilled my spine and electrocuted my instincts came from downstairs. I sat up with a bolt and darted my eyes around the room. Harper was tangled up in the bed sheets and thrashing around with a dazed look in her eyes.
"Who was that? What's going on down there?" she inquired with a deep frown. Daryl had already leapt out of bed and grabbed his crossbow, one hand gripping the doorknob firmly to stop anyone (or anything) coming in. He looked to Harper, who by this point had scrambled out of bed and picked up the long sword and flashing silver gun that were permanent features from under the bed. When she was crouched next to the door, poised for action, they both turned and looked expectantly at me. I tumbled out of bed and grabbed he first available weapon I could find, which happened to be the short length of metal pipe that I'd found in the back of a cupboard one afternoon. I gripped it with both hands, eyes wide and wrists shaking as I nodded at the two bloodthirsty freaks that had taken over the bodies of my roommates. Daryl wrenched open the door, and hell was revealed.
Blood. Blood stained the walls of the once idyllic house, not just spatters though; full streaks of smeared blood on the walls, as if something (or someone) had dragged their bloodied corpse down the corridor. Harper and Daryl ran, almost slid down the stairs into the heart of the madness, and I reluctantly followed, not wanting for a single moment to be left alone. Behind me, a serious of rapid thuds made me spin round to see a rotting, congealing corpse staggering mercilessly towards me, its remaining eyeball rolling sickeningly around in its restlessly lolling skull. It took me a few seconds to register what was happening, but when my senses came back to me I let out my own bloodcurdling shriek and tried to take a step backwards and the only thing I had to put my foot on was thin air. I tumbled down the wooden stairs, scream dried up, listening to the cracks of my body as I helplessly fell with the zombie in hot pursuit. After what felt like an age my head made solid contact with the hard floor and it bounced up, making my ears ring and causing me to lose vision temporarily. I felt the cold skin of the walker suddenly upon me, and I prayed for it to be over quickly as I feebly struggled against it and sobbed. I realised that there was smoke billowing from the kitchen, and I wondered how long I had left before either the fire took me or the walker murdered me.
A shot rang out and mingled with the screams and crying of my fellow survivors when the walker struggled against me no longer. A booted foot kicked it away from me and suddenly Rick bent down and helped me up. I flashed him a watery smile and clung to his hand, desperate for someone- anyone- Rick, to bundle me up and rush me away from the horror and chaos that was assaulting my senses. We clasped hands and began running down the hallways towards the back door, the screams still ringing out and mingling with the roaring of the fire from the garden and kitchen, the shrieks came from the living room and dining area as my friends were attacked by dirty walkers. Looking back I suppose we were clinging to each other as ferociously as we were because we were both as terrified as each other and we both needed someone to reassure ourselves that things were gonna be okay. I clutched the pipe with my free hand and faced the floor as I ran along behind Rick, hands still welded together.
We got into the kitchen and the first sight we were greeted by was Lori pinned against the dark wooden table, a bloated man-walker looming over her, trying its hardest to rip through her skin, holding a manic look in its milky eyes. Rick let out an enraged cry, and letting go of my hand he raced forward through the consuming smoke, buried the barrel of his gun into the side of its head and emptied the chamber into its swollen brain. He picked Lori up and together they raced out through the back door and past the flames that were rapidly engulfing the kitchen near the back door, both obscuring me from their private little world. I made to follow them, stepping up my pace when suddenly one of the huge white beams that held the kitchen ceiling up broke away from the roof due to the flames that were blanketing it and fell across the back door, blocking my exit.
I turned to see if anybody else from the house was left inside and I heard no more screams from inside (presumably they all managed to escape out through the front door, which hadn't yet been blocked by tumbling, burning debris). I covered my mouth and nose with my shirt, as the smoke was becoming thick and unbearable, turned on my heels and began to run back through the crumbling house. I'd made it no more than 6 steps before 3 walkers forced their way into the kitchen, all stumbling over one another in a mad frenzy to eat the nearly cooked human. I stumbled backwards and crashed my back against the sink, hands scrabbling about for something to hit them with but instead of finding a solid weapon, my entire hand was licked and engulfed by the ever increasing flames. I shrieked and snatched my hand back, my hand now a pink and hunk of cooked meat, driving the quickly closing in walkers insane. In the corner of my eye I saw a dirty plate that had been used the night just passed, and I quickly grasped it with my good hand and slammed it down on the closest walker, who was a balding skinny woman, now about 2ft away from me. It staggered backwards and pressed on, so I gave it one last desperate shove and waited to die.
I did a lot of waiting to die.
Just then, the forehead of the closest walker erupted and a shower of black goop (presumably its congealing blood) spurted out all over me. An arrowhead was poking comically out from it, and it slumped to the floor completely motionless. The other two turned their attention to the mysterious archer. Daryl stood behind them, covered completely in ash and blood (hopefully someone else's) and in one hand he wielded a large knife which was easily big enough to break through bone and sinew, and in the other hand he brandished the heavy crossbow. I watched open mouthed and aghast as he plunged the knife through the craniums of the zombies with an almighty crack as the hot steel penetrated the brittle bone. I stared up at him and blinked heavily, the smoke really beginning to take its toll as I faded away from reality, drifting in between consciousness and a warm sleep. Daryl leant down and shook me roughly by the shoulder, jolting me back into reality and offered me his ash and sweat covered hand. I glanced at the back door, how I could barely see it anymore through the black clouds of smoke, and as I clasped his hand and let him haul me to my feet, I realised that in that second- at that crucial, life changing moment - it wasn't over.
