The warm sun pushed its rays through the window pane and flooded Lara's face, making her sneeze. She woke up to the sensation of flem blocking off her breathing passage.
She sat up suddenly. Something didn't feel right.
Lara pulled her bathrobe around herself, ran her fingers through her knotted hair, and went down the stairs leading to the main hall.
Winston, who was the family butler, looked up at Lara as she came down the stairs. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, which stirred Lara's mind a bit. He never stood like that unless he was disappointed about something. Lara figured it was her early-morning attire.
She approached him.
"Ms. Croft-"
"Winston, you can't expect me to wake up every morning dressed like a lady."
Winston's eyes widened. "No, you look fine. It's your father. He's gone."
Lara sighed. "Did he leave a note?"
"Yes, actually. I haven't read it though."
"Okay," muttered Lara as she took the letter and unfolded it, "Strange that he would take off so suddenly…"
She gaped at the paper. There was no message, but the date was written in bold, black ink in the center. Lara frowned. Today was her mother's birthday, and she had forgotten.
Winston look down at the paper and realized her had forgotten as well. Seeing the all-too-familiar look on Lara's face, Winston put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Lara…" he said quietly.
Lara looked up at him from the letter, bleary-eyed.
Winston sighed, "Dove, please remember that this day is not meant to be sad."
She grimaced, "How can I think of it any other way?"
"I know it's hard," said Winston, "but this is your mother's birthday. You should be celebrating her life, and how wonderful she was."
Lara exhaled loudly through her nose, as she did anytime someone proved a point that wasn't her own.
"Cheer up," he added, and pulled out an object from seemingly nowhere and handed it to her, "Your soon-to-be-husband brought this for you earlier today."
It was a rose. Lara grinned as she admired it. The rose's petals were a deep and luscious red, and its stem was bright green. It almost seemed to glow with beauty.
"Ah. Here he comes now," said Winston sullenly.
Lara looked up to see William emerge from the shadows of the hallway that led to the ballroom.
Lara panicked. "How dare you?" she rasped, "I'm not properly dressed or bathed."
William shook his head, "You're always lovely to me, no matter what condition."
Lara sneered at him, "There can't be any truth to that statement."
"I do have to say," William continued, ignoring her jibe, "you would look great with a nice bun in your hair."
Lara raised an eyebrow. William flinched; he could never tell if he was offending her or not. He quickly drummed up an explanation.
"You have such a beautiful face, darling, and your hair just swallows it all up."
"I see. Hm. My mother used to braid my hair when I was a young girl."
William shrugged, "Buns are more elegant."
"GOOD MORNING!" A hoarse voice flew out from Roger's bedroom. The party below looked up to see Roger leaning over the balcony of the upstairs hallway.
"Morning, Roger," Lara called back.
"Whatcha cool cats talkin' about?" said Roger casually as he descended down the stairs.
Lara chuckled, "You have a horrid American accent," she noted, "and we were talking about my unruly hair."
"Well, it would look great in a braid."
William scoffed. "That's the hairstyle of Indians."
"Then Lara is a super Indian," said Roger, who had come up behind Lara and hugged her waist, "she looks better than anybody."
Lara sighed with relief. Roger was never truly mad with her.
"That's true," said William, his dark eyes were unreadable, "However, she is my wife, therefore she should obey my requests."
The word "wife" stung Lara's brain. Not just her fear of the concept, but he tone that William used…
"You say the term 'wife' in the same usage as 'property'," said Winston, "I think you owe your lady an apology."
William sucked in his breath, and Roger gripped Lara's arms.
"I was only stating my opinion," he said, "I believe everyone is entitled to their opinion without having to apologize."
Lara raised her eyebrows. Roger's grip on her arms tightened. He knew her too well.
"Well, your 'opinion' was quite rude." Lara growled.
"Will looked at Lara without blinking, then his gaze switched to the floor.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
"Accepted!" said Lara almost too fast, grinning. "I'm going to shower now, and we can have breakfast. Sound good?"
"Yes-"
"And then we'll walk in my garden and you're going to tell me over and over again how happy you are to be engaged."
William bit his lip, "Of course, love."
"Don't call me that," Lara snapped, then turned to her brother, "See, Roger?" I do know what I want."
Roger smiled at his sister and then winked at William, who looked more surprised than hurt.
"Your life sucks," Roger stuck out his tongue.
….
Lara stared at the dress's reflection in the mirror. She hated it, but it was her mother's, she so she didn't hesitate to wear it on Lady Croft's birthday. To anyone else, however, it could be pretty. It was yellow, with threaded daisies circling the bottom hem of the skirt that stopped right above her knees.
She sat down at her mother's vanity set and sighed. There was a knock on the door.
"Not right now, Roger," Lara called.
"It's me, Dove," Winston cracked open the door.
"Oh, come in, please."
Winston smiled and closed he door behind him. He immediately went to put up Lara's hair, despite her groan. He fondled with her hair until it was drawn up into a military sock bun. Lara sneered at this.
"Hm," Winston pondered, "You have a very soft face… maybe this is too harsh for you." He undid her hair. "Let's do what Roger suggested."
Lara nodded. Winston quickly took tendrils of Lara's hair and started weaving them into a French braid.
"You're very good at this Winston," Lara remarked, watching Winston's hands magically transform her hair.
"I have three daughters, if you recall."
"Right," said Lara, smiling, "How are they?"
"Married," replied Winston.
"…right. Winston?"
"Yes, Dove?"
"Why haven't you retired?"
"Ha ha, I am retired. This is just a hobby, especially since your mother passed. It was an honor to help you and your father brother out, and be a help to your father It's hard to raise children on your own."
"It's like having two gay dads."
"Very funny, Lara."
…
Lara and Winston left her room and went downstairs to the main hall. William smiled when he saw Lara.
"Okay, I was wrong," he said, "The braid looks beautiful."
"I'm so glad I have your approval, William," Lara smirked.
William grimaced.
"Breakfast is going to take awhile, so why don't you two lovebirds go and play outside," said Winston.
Lara threw up in her mouth a little, and they turned to leave. Once outside, William started an awkward conversation.
"How are you today, Lara Bear?"
Lara's eye twitched violently. His hand brushed hers, but she wouldn't hold it.
"Not that great," she muttered.
"Why?" Will attempted to grab her hand again. She drew it back.
"My mother's birthday is today."
"Ah, Mrs. Kaylee Croft."
"Yes," said Lara, "Right now my father is sitting on a bench in Germany in front of the hospital where my mother was born. He takes their wedding pictures and sifts through them repeatedly throughout the day…"
"That sounds psycho," commented William. Lara glared at her fiancé.
"They were in love!" she snapped.
"Well, if you died, I would let you rest in peace," William yawned, "Speaking of rest; I'm still quite tired-"
"He is! Is it wrong to let someone rest but remind them that you love them? Keep in mind that that's my mother you're disrespecting!"
William raised his eyebrows, and then sighed.
"I'm sorry, Lara," he said quietly, "That was extremely rude, and I wasn't thinking straight."
They sat on the side of a fountain. Lara bit her bottom lip. She would never accept that apology. Instead, she changed the subject:
"Do you like history?" Lara inquired.
"What kind of man would I be if I didn't?"
"Great. Well, have you heard of the dagger of Xian?"
"Um… no?"
"It's hidden in the Great Wall of China."
"…what?"
"Legend says that the last emperor of China drove the dagger into his heart, and he turned into a dragon."
"Lara, don't say things like that."
"It's just a myth. It creeps me out, too. I'm glad it's not real, actually."
"Can we talk about something civilized, please?"
"Fine."
"Do you like Meatloaf?"
"Of course. He's very gifted."
"The food?"
…
Lara and William entered the kitchen to find Winston and Roger absorbed into the little TV on the counter.
"What's going-" asked Lara.
"Sh!" Roger silenced her.
Lara pushed Winston and Roger apart to see what they were watching.
It was a commercial.
"What the…"
"We're waiting for the news to come back on," explained Winston, "Apparently there's been some gang violence going on."
"And a lot of missing people," added Roger.
"That's very…odd," murmured Lara.
"William, I don't think you should be home by yourself tonight. Stay here awhile," said Winston.
Lara's eyes widened, "Wait! He has tons of mirrors at home! When he sees his reflections it'll feel like people are there!"
Winston rolled his eyes, "He can stay in a different room, Lara. He doesn't have to bunk with you."
"Alright…" she looked apologetically at William, "Sorry, but I'm saving myself for our wedding night, and if we share a room…anything could happen."
"I understand completely," he said, a disappointed tone in his voice.
Lara felt disgusted. Why was the one man that her father liked have to be such a prick? At least she didn't have to share a room with him. She also wasn't telling the truth about wanting to wait until the wedding night to honor her virginity... it was already taken care of, but he didn't need know that. Lara could also tell by the hushed whispers of other girls that Will had secrets as well.
…..
Roger had his right leg out the window when Lara opened the door.
"Are you insane?" She stood, peering at him.
Roger sighed and drew his leg back in.
"I just want to go have some fun," was his protest.
"Did you not see the news today?" she retorted. Roger rolled his eyes.
"Nothing is going to happen to me," he said.
"Fine. I'm not going after you this time."
"Good. I don't need you to."
…
Something definitely didn't feel right. Lara sat up in her bed, her hands folded in her lap. First of all, Roger was still gone, and that uneased her. But something else as lurking, and she couldn't put her finger on it.
She stepped out of the room in nothing but a long Queen tee shirt and instantly regretted it; there was a brisk draft crawled up her legs and seeped through the shirt. Someone obviously left a door or window open.
A light went on in the kitchen, so Lara went downstairs to investigate.
As she got closer, she could hear munching sounds, and see Roger's shadow stretch upon the tile floor. She entered to see Roger with a box of Ritz crackers, a dissatisfied expression on his face.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lara eyed her brother.
He looked up at her. His left eye was beaten black, and his thick eyebrows housed clumps of dirt. His hair was dusty, and his eyes were bloodshot. There were bloody rips all over his shirt.
Lara jumped back a bit. The sight was atrocious, and depressing.
"Did that fat cow beat you up?"
Roger's face was stone-hard, "I was running away from them."
"Who?"
"Those people."
"You saw them?"
"Yeah… one of 'em bit me." He lifted up his shirt to reveal a bright, red gash on his flat stomach. Lara gasped and rushed to him, but he stopped her. "No… it's already stinging because of my sweat… I don't want it touched."
"But, Roger… there's teeth indentations…"
"You think I don't see that?" Roger swayed slightly; the fluorescent lighting seemed to make his wound glisten. He looked down into the box disgustedly. "These taste like shit." He dropped the box and a stack of crackers slid in single file across the kitchen floor. Lara stared at the wasted crackers on the floor, then back at her brother.
"I'm taking you to the hospital. Let's go."
"Don't you dare. I had my face smashed in dirt… I want to go to bed. I'm tired and I feel sick."
"But that bite could be infected."
"I don't care," Roger growled. He stepped past her into the hallway, then stopped. Lara resumed staring at the crackers like someone who just watched their best friend get killed.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I should've listened to you."
"I agree…"
Roger left.
Lara sighed heavily. She figured that this would be the last time he snuck out late. She got down on her knees and started cleaning up the crackers; she didn't want Winston to do anymore than he had to.
She became lost in making sure every crumb was removed from the floor, until she heard a faint creaking sound behind her.
"Go to bed, Roger, or I'm forcing you to go to the hospital," she called. There was an agonized moan about six feet behind her. "Oh, shiny, he's sleep-walking," Lara muttered to herself. She stood up and turned around to face a person that wasn't Roger.
The thing's face horribly mutated. Lara gasped and felt warm bile shoot up her throat. It was missing an eyeball. It reached out to her, almost seeming to want comfort. Lara looked down to see that its hands were reaching toward her chest. She instantly assumed it was a male.
She raised her right leg and kicked it harshly in the stomach.
"Pervert!" she screamed.
The creature fell back on a wrong angle, and Lara watched, horrified, as its neck made a horrible cracking sound. She walked around it and flipped on the light switch, illuminating the main hall. She started to back away, to get to a telephone, at least something of use, when the man started to get up and reassemble itself. Lara screamed and ran up the stairs. It followed slowly behind her. She ran into her father's library.
The smell of books usually comforted her, but the awful stench that the monster was giving off seemed to override it. Panic struck, she looked around for something of defense. She could smell the creature getting closer, gaining on her, his smell flooding the room.
Her eyes caught the book ladder on the far wall, and her legs carried her over without thinking. She pulled herself up to the very top bookshelf, the thing desperately trying to bite at her ankles and feet.
There was a heavy encyclopedia siting on the shelf, gathering massive chunks of unhealthy dust. Lara put it to good use by whipping it at the intruder, hitting him square in the chest. He faltered, but kept going for the tall girl clinging to the ladder. Lara continued grabbing books and throwing them at the creature. The books either missed him or barely touched him.
Lara squeezed her eyes shut, she wanted all of this to be a bad dream, a very bad dream. When she opened her eyes, however, she was dismayed to still see the horrifying reality of the thing failing (but in an intimidating manner) at climbing up the ladder. Hopeful, she reached for another heavy book, but felt her fingers spread against something cold, and hard. Reluctant, but curious, she took it out to look at it.
There, shining brilliantly in her hand, was her father's favorite pistol. She has only see it once in her entire life before, and instantly recognized the engraving on the side:
"Master Croft"
The intruder continued groaning and wheezing from below her. Hesitantly, she aimed at the beast, who was clawing at the sides of the ladder, and shot.
The bullet went straight through the shoulder. It didn't even flinch. Lara, on the other hand, went flying backwards due to the impact of the gun. She had never used one before, and this was a challenging first lesson.
The back of Lara's head hit the wall harshly, and she landed on her tailbone on the hardwood floor. She looked up weakly at the decomposed-looking thing as it cornered her. She raised the pistol with a shaking arm and shot it straight in the heart. A thick, white puss leaked out, and the creature leaned in, his face coming into two inches of hers. She grimaced and aimed the pistol between its one eye and vacant eye socket, and shot again. This time, heavy, stale, dark red blood splattered all over the walls, and the intruder fell to its knees, headless, and finally keeled over.
Lara sat, numb and quavering, staring and the bloody mess. What she just saw was unnatural… a creature that just wouldn't die. She had heard stories of these monsters before. It started with the Zed letter… She sifted through the file cabinet of her mind and came up with the only plausible name: Zombie.