There we were, driving on the forgotten lane of Wyndham St. A home, not too far away, was being shackled by the enormous group of zombies, striking the cemented walls layered as their last resort of defense.
"Should we help them?" Pura asked once again, this time adding a hint of sorrows and remorse from her usual tune.
Clinton just stared quietly unto the shattering house, waiting for my decisions. It was in my mere power to do so; to aid or destroy. But the problem was, helping them out during these hectic times may be an act of the fool, deterred by the wise. I am not a wise woman, nor a fool to begin with. Was it helping someone the sole purpose of mankind itself?
"No man's an island" by John Donne. The phrase kept ringing down my spine. It was the unraveling truth of a moral dilemma or one's selfishness. I too ask for my safety, and also had bear the group behind my back, not minding the scene might save our lives. But
Is it worth it, escaping your death?
Was it worth it, abandoning a child?
If the situation were reversed, would you wish to be saved?
I took a glimpse of the transparent window, the two family members, the mother, and her daughter, wrapped between their warmth. It was a delicate scene. A scene of parental love. The mother kisses her forehead, whilst begging for a saviour; as they close their eyes and await their doom.
They
They're waiting for us.
"Geez. Okay, here's the plan" drifting the car onto the wide road, we hurriedly formulate our plan
Aiming to save their lives.
Both of them will serve as the main rescuers who'll be diving in the seams. They'll be leading the two women outside the house and relocate them inside the St. Patrick's Cathedral Car Park. It wasn't the best stronghold we could've wished for, but we should make the most out of every decision as possible.
As for myself, I'll be the one who'll create a massive decoy to alert and attract all of the zombies around the circle, using my car as a scapegoat throughout our great escape. I'll be forcing them to tail my behind and lure them out for the group's safety. It'll be a matter of time to take hold of this chance and successfully attain our wishful goal.
"Will you be alright?" Both of them ask. I too was worried about my safety, and as a matter of fact, my job plays the deadliest role among all of us combined.
I flipped my auburn hair and managed to produce an awesome scene of me saying the lines
"I won't die easily" As my feet shivered on my hypocrite reserved.
"This will be our only chance if you guys wish to save their life. All of us are in grave danger, to begin with. Saving someone's life, playing heroes, would be the best death we could ever receive, don't you think?" I kid around and extract the horrible tension growing from the atmosphere.
"If do you, I'll kill you myself." And patted both of their back as we waited for the beginning of the end.
I took them off beside the maple tree standing at 5 metres away from the family's domain. They left most of their valuables (junks, you know, the materials and some other stuff) inside the van, and was only equipped with safety goggles, the paper armours tangling on their arms, and their trusty melee weapons which had proved to be…useless from the previous arc.
"If you feel troubled, smack them hard on the face and dash your way from the scenes." I patted their shoulders once again. Warm. They reminded me about my parents who had lost interest in raising their kids. Still, I'm sorry, my friends… I don't know if I can return alive.
"God bless," Clinton said, with a lone smile on his face
Pura poured down a river, as she saw my eyes tearing up from the sudden goodbyes. She's a sweet friend whom I cherish with all my heart. I too wanted to return from my delightful life, from the friends who had kept me alive. We had decided to meet at the nearby chapel and hastily barricade the entrance. It'll be our temporary stronghold.
"You too. Wish you luck" I returned the favour and managed to wave them off with a smile. It was a solemn part and deadly as it seems.
They began sneaking off towards a distance, creeping closer, and closer, upon reaching their goal. I went back inside the car and readied my things, hoping for the best.
It was a dreadful night, unidentical among others. The moon stood at the apex of the sky, amidst from all the stars, clustered, as they formed the famous celestial 'Pleiades'. The dawn would be rising quite shortly as it seems, but then again, our mission had only commenced.
I fastened each cap from the remaining bottles and mixed a handful of fluids inside and created two improvised Molotov's. It was surprisingly easy, remembering what I had stupidly watched during my earlier youth. The Molotov's ingredients include gasoline, motor oil, gauze or strips of the t-shirt (which I had ripped mine), and duct tape (or I don't know what tape I had been using). The oils that I've used came from the insides of the van which surprisingly fully tanked before our dreadful departure. These items are the core of the grenade, which I had made personally for my arsenal.
Pura and Clinton had finally positioned themselves nearby the bushes and the trees, covered in secrecy from the infected individuals. With a hanky waving by, the signal had finally begun.
"Let's see if you can survive this!" I positioned myself outside my automobile and threw one of the fiery Molotov's at hand. The moment it had landed on the ground, the bottle ignited and caused a wildfire spiraling around the house. The embers had caught the tips of the zombies and made them immobile, as the flames kept havoc upon the once peaceful neighbourhood.
As if an owner playing with her dog, the infected soon spotted my existence as we began playing the so-called 'game of tag'. I hurriedly jumped inside my seat and forcibly kicked the gas. Some of the zombies within our vicinity had caught a glimpse towards the van and the kindled zombies rushing by. They too aggressively tagged along which was fortunate enough for my dear comrades who were waiting for their chance. As the scene passes by, the grand escape had made its successful start.
------------Pura's Perspective------
I saw Fleur throwing some sort of bottle in the air and landed towards the clean lawn of grass which abruptly burned the surroundings. It was a good thing that it had landed to no one but the super bad zombies blocking our way. I would've wanted to slam all of them in one single swoop using my awesome pan! But I couldn't. Clinton, my crush, would've deemed me idiotic, don't you think? It was nonetheless lucky for me to get alone time with my super lovey-dovey man~
As soon as the monsters burst into flames, I took the lead and found a safe route headed inside. Clinton followed my breach as we successfully penetrated the whole house.
No source of light was entering the home, and the atmosphere brought towards each room was the dead silence itself. It was akin from a cemetery, and the only sounds that we could hear of were our heavy breath piling up inside our chest.
"Hel-" I was about to ask and call for help but Clinton had covered my mouth and began shushing from behind.
"Don't create any unnecessary noise. There may be few zombies left inside the house." He whispered, as he slowly took the front and crouched his way towards the living room. Following suit, I raised my pan and was in a full alert from the sudden surprise attacks of… who knows what.
*Growl*
There it was, the soft alarming growl coming from the inside, around, uh, the bedroom, maybe? The house is 2 storeys tall and wide enough to cater to all the utility rooms needed within a nuclear family. The faint noise came from upstairs, seemingly banging towards a wooden door.
"Are we going in?" Frightened, I asked Clinton and found myself clinging unto his arm.
"Uh, er, yeah. I'll be the decoy, you hit the zombie on the head. Got it?" he said, as he readies his foot on the staircase leading above.
"Let me be the decoy" I pleaded, hoping to rearrange the plan. Clinton and Fleur were always there for me when I needed them the most. I wanted to be useful even for once.
"No, I insist. I wouldn't want you to risk your life first. You'll protect me, right?" He replied, patting my head while flashing a smile. It was one of the most memorable days of my life. Clinton, for the first time, was worried about my safety.
"I wouldn't want to risk yours…" I murmured, hoping it had reached him out.
"Don't worry. We'll be okay." He said whilst gripping my hands firmly out of nervousness and fright. It was mildly shaking despite his cool proclamation he'd mention awhile back. But, despite all of these, saving the survivor's lives is our utmost priority.
"Okay" I gave him my reply and eventually followed his lead.
We were creeping, slowly, upstairs. The door on the left must've been the one where the two girls are isolated from the crisis spreading in despair. The zombie has yet to stop knocking from the wooden ingress as if begging to come inside, starving for a prey.
Clinton gave out a sigh, as we headed towards stealthily closer towards our target.
"Now!" The distance between us and the infected was far quite close, allowing Clinton to trample the zombie's skull with the brutal force of the frying pan. The pan itself collided with the hardened individual, making a loud clanking sound that reverberates throughout the floor. With the strength of the pan hit by Clinton himself, the zombie rolled over to my side and was pushed out on the verge of the stairs.
"Pura!" Clinton shouts once again and calls out my name.
"On it!" I charged in and hit the centre of my pan against the zombie's head. Ironically, this sequence feels like playing wild golf out from our lawn, but instead of golf clubs, we're using large frying pans and such against the round reanimated head for a ball.
We've been hitting the skull for about a minute or so, alternating each turn upon reaching our goal. The body itself was wobbling in dismay and after 49 consecutive hits from our metallic frying pans, the head finally detached itself from its horrifying body and ended up rolling down the stairs with an "AARGH" like-face (You know, when a person opens its mouth because of the trauma and…you get my idea, don't you?).
"We killed someone…" I announced. Despite this apocalyptic zombie world, these people are once normal citizens residing the great Auckland land. He might be our good 'old pal, or neighbour if I'm honest enough.
"Zombie" Clinton corrected, as he gazes upon his frying pan which was badly beaten down to its pulp. The metallic freckle marks, painted in a darkish red hue, had stained the lavish kitchen tool but had still managed to stand its ground.
All of a sudden, a soft cry, on the other side of the room could be heard, weeping in the form of a child. It was then followed by a soothing lullaby sung by the mother, hoping it'll hush the sweet girl's phantom.
"Hey! Pizza delivery! I got you something, kiddo, your favourite, Pepperoni, and Cheese!" Clinton knocks on the front door and attempts to sway the frightened child.
The doorknob twitches slightly and eventually opened the dim room. As the front door steadily creaks in, there they were, the lovely daughter being held by her kind, gentle mother in an angelic brace, greeted our view.