Mark pisses me off.
He slept with my mom on more than one occasion. I'm sure it wasn't just his decision, otherwise it wouldn't have kept happening. However, it did, and my dad is too damn blind to see it. I'm fairly sure the reason she wanted a divorce was so he wouldn't find out. Yet after the divorce my mom didn't stay at Mark's place, so I don't know where she is now.
I remember the first time it happened. The memories are engrained into the furthest part of my brain. My dad was on a work vacation to Louisville for a week. I noticed Mark being around the house for most of that time, just hanging out and buying dinner for us. I don't remember much about why he was there anymore, just that he was helping us out while Dad was gone. Then the cold reality came sneaking in.
I used to be scared of the noises that I would hear every night. I'd cower in my bed and hide from the scary monsters I assumed were killing my mother. I'd spend every night in tears. I knew the truth when I decided to venture out and investigate the problem. Never understanding what was happening at the time, now I wish I had never left that bedroom.
I don't blame my mother for wanting somebody else. I know my parents relationship was rocky for a while, but I was young when they argued most, and when I got older everything seemed like it was better. Seems some people are better at faking things than others. I hate her only because of the fact that she kept continuing with her shenanigans when she could have stopped at any time. She knew it would hurt my father. It did.
I know it was rough for my father. He didn't want to lose her in his life. He loved her so much. The small things and sacrifices made for our family proved what she meant to him. He's still trying so hard to make life better for me, and I'm too depressed to show that I care, but I do. I can't help either of them, especially considering I have no clue where my mother is.
The one common factor in this hell of a situation is Mark. I blame that douchecanoe for everything, which is why I've avoided seeing him since the divorce.
So, in that moment when my dad commanded me to run off to the garage with him, you better believe that I was pissed. Of course, I don't have another option. I'm so confused as to what the hell is even going on right now. I knew about the whole virus outbreak thing because of the internet. My friends kept sharing posts on social media, but I never watched the videos because I figured they were just a big hoax. I had no clue it was turning people into mindless beings who craved feeding on people. Zombies have always been fictitious throughout my life. I used to have these crazy thoughts that maybe the zombie apocalypse would be really cool. I read about zombies all the time in comics. They never seemed real to me. Now that they are, I know that I should have never thought those things.
We reached the side door and tried opening it like my father suggested. It was locked. Of course it was locked, why wouldn't it be? My dad is always paranoid of people breaking into our house, and look where it gets us now. Mark, like the idiot he is, starts banging on the door. He kicks the door forcefully with his leg, and then pulls it back, wincing in pain. Mark looks at me and says, "What do we do now?"
What we do now is laugh at your stupid ass.
Luckily I have my car keys on me. I always leave my car in the driveway, and I keep my keys on me if I ever decide to sneak out. I only did it one time and got away with it because my father sleeps like a dead rat.
Dad always leaves his truck in the garage and has the keys hanging right by the door. A crazy idea starts to play out in my mind, but I know that none of it will end well for us. Oh, well. Adventure, right?
I slowly climb onto the lower fence post and look out. It seems like all of the zombies are walking down the street, not really going through any of the surrounding yards. The ones I can see within eyeshot distance are either across the street or too far down. I pray to god that they can't run as I slowly open the gate.
Mark looks at me with wide eyes. "Are you insane?", he screams as quietly as he can whisper it. I stare back up at him and say, "Do you have a better idea?", and he just stares out into the street. After what seems like forever he finally says, "Fuck. Okay, let's go."
It has always seemed like an unspoken truth, but we both know what happened between Mark and my mother. He knows that I have no filter, and he knows what he did to me. He would never apologize for the shit he did, so I will never treat him with the same respect I gave him in my earlier years.
I slowly make my way over to my car and unlock the passenger door. I climb in and reach to the glove compartment. I open it and find our garage door opener with ease. Mark looks at me with big eyes, but he knows this is the only way. I watch the figures on the street, wait until they are lower in numbers, then stand by the garage door and hit the button.
The hideous screech it makes as it opens tells me this was a horrible idea, but I had no clue what to do. Immediately, I turn around and see one of the zombies on our lawn begin walking towards the house. The only weapon I have on me is my car key. This door better hurry the hell up.
I'm back to reality as I realize the massive number of figures that are still heading towards us. Mark grabs me by the arm and pulls me in as the garage door closes, too slowly. We aren't going to make it in time. One of the zombies stumbles in front of the door and it slowly closes on him. The door crushes his head and the blood spatters all over the car. Fucking disgusting. Whatever remaining guts there are keep getting crushed by the door. It won't close all the way, and now I'm panicking.
Once the hands start coming underneath the garage door, we realize that we don't have much time.