You Shoot at the zombies from inside your home.You see no reason to leave the safety of your home, but these zombies must be killed. Once they've finished off the fallen man, there's no telling what they'll do next. Being passive, you might risk more in the long run than by killing the undead now while they're distracted.
You pull out your AK-47 and find a space between the boards through which your weapon can fit. From the second-floor window across the street, an older woman leans out with a pistol in hand and aims down at the pack. The luxury car pulls to a stop twenty feet from the group of undead, and the driver-side window slides down. The barrel of a rifle pokes out. Weapons erupt all around, and you fire your AK-47. With each short burst of the weapon, a zombie falls away as the bullets strike their diseased bodies.
The rattle of automatic gunfire from the car eclipses all other sounds. You recognize the weapon—an AK-47. And through the barrage of bullets, the untouched infected focus upon their meal, unfazed as their fellow undead fall around them. The short-haired woman kills the last of the zombies with a head shot, exploding brain and bone and flesh onto the pavement.
You draw your weapon back through the window. The street is quiet except for the soft sobbing of the light-haired woman and the faint clicks of her weapon reloading.
"Are you all right?" a voice from the car calls out. As the man leans through the driver-side window, you see he's an older man, maybe late fifties, with wavy white hair beneath a camouflage cap.
"Yeah, I'm fine," the woman says, choking on the words. It seems strange to notice the odd picture on her T-shirt of a rock group called Gold Rust. The emblem depicts a gold-skinned man on a pile of dead bodies. The sadness on her face, the vulnerability, draws you in. Is it wrong to stare at her, not to share in her sorrow but because of her high cheekbones, perfect nose, and smooth skin?
The window of the luxury car slides up, and the motor revs as the driver steers it backwards into a quick U-turn. It takes off down the street, quickly disappearing around the corner.
Johnny turns from the window, his glasses drooped at the edge of his nose as he stares over the top of the frames. "They're all dead. But they killed that man." He slinks across the living room and sits just in front of the couch, legs tucked to his chest. You tell Johnny to toughen up.Death in the apocalypse will become commonplace, and the sooner your nephew toughens his mind to such things, the quicker he'll be viable in such a world.
"Listen, Johnny—what you just saw was terrible, but stuff like that's going to happen a lot now. The world is changing, and if you're afraid, you won't be able to protect yourself. Fear can make you do stupid things. It makes you think fuzzy. You have to push fear away and be strong. If you think straight, you can make smart decisions and keep yourself alive. I know it's tough watching people die, but sitting on the floor and crying won't keep you safe. So wipe your eyes, and let's figure out how to survive."
Johnny's bottom lip quivers, but he fights back the tears. He puffs his cheeks and blows out a sigh, and somehow this resets him. With a short cough, he shakes his head vigorously and stands, slaps both sides of his own face, and breaks out a smile.
"Thanks, I needed that."
You turn your attention back outside, where the short-haired woman is standing over the body of her fallen friend.
"Listen, Gina," the tall man says, and you now recall the woman had called him George. He has wildly tussled hair and a shaggy beard with thick-rimmed glasses, an expensive pair of designer jeans and flannel shirt for that casual-yet-rich look. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. They were coming so fast, and there was no escape."
Gina turns and yells, her voice cracking with intensity. "We told you to stay inside! We were safe, and you ran like a coward—a selfish coward. You killed him. You killed him!"
She raises the shotgun at George's chest. You hear the boom of the weapon and see the momentary flash of light from the barrel, and the man's body curls inward. A circle of blood forms below his neck with pulpy parts of flesh riddled with tiny holes. His arms and legs shake and stiffen, and he twitches as he collapses to the ground. She wears worry and pain on her face as she steps over to the body of her friend. She bends and touches his hand, and you can tell by the way she holds it that she's lost a soulmate to the apocalypse. Her life will be harder now, and one more person to live for is gone.
She flinches from a pain by her ribcage, stands, and leans on the hood of a car. When the pain passes, she straightens and spits on George's corpse, then she walks past it and never looks back.You check the time—7:00 pm.
You hear noises from outside—voices arguing. You peer outside through the front window. Walking up to your house, an older man walks along the sidewalk using a cane to tap the ground. He wears dark sunglasses and is led by a young woman.
As the sun sets, a dull haze of light shines down. The temperature's rising. May is finally acting like May. You see no activity on the street other than these two strangers.
The pair walks close to the front of your home. Neither appears to be in immediate distress. The man swings the slender rod over the ground and catches a loose cinder block. He lifts his leg far over it to cross. He looks middle-aged, and his salt-and-pepper hair sweeps to the side in a crisp schoolboy cut. In fact, he has boyish features, and only his hair color speaks to his age. His body is lean and athletic, and he has an air of courage and independence as he walks.
The girl turns her head left and right as if searching for something. Her ponytail swings about with each turn, and her bangs wisp in the wind. She's not heavy or thin, and she's wearing a tight T-shirt that accentuates her curvy figure. The only color to her pale face are red cheeks from the cold, as she must be freezing in her mini-skirt.
"Look, people," Johnny says and taps the window with his finger.
"I see them. I wonder why they're out there," you say.
"The man looks blind. And the girl is probably real nice. We should let them in."
As the two strangers start up the sidewalk toward your house, you crack the door open and talk to the strangers.Johnny, grab Max and keep him away from the door." You point to a spot far off to the side of the room. "Stay away from here while I talk to these two strangers. I want to find out what they're all about."
You unlock the door and swing it open.
The girl leaves the man and hurries toward the front steps of the house. "Thank god. Our car broke down a block away, and no one will help us. Can we come in? Just to use the phone?"
As she speaks, a loud piercing sound cuts through the air. All three of you look toward the south corner of the road. Another shriek sounds out, this time much closer.You lend her your phone.You take your phone out and hand it to the young woman, blocking the door with your body. "Here, use my phone."
She pauses for a moment, staring at you with a smile. "You're cute," she says and takes the phone. She turns her back, and you can't see what she's doing, but moments later, she lifts the phone to her ear. The phone rings loud enough for you to hear, even over the whistle of the wind.
The man leans against a parked car and yawns. He adjusts the strap of a small backpack carried over his shoulder.
The girl hands back your phone. "No one answered. I don't know what to do now, but I'm afraid to walk much further with my grandfather when there are infected out here. Can we come in?". Yeah it safer inside you say.You unlock the door the rest of the way and swing it open.
"Thank you so much," the young woman says as she leads the man up the front steps. "I can't believe it, you're the first person who helped us."
Johnny walks up, hands in his pockets. "Hi. I'm Johnny."
"Hey there, cutie. I'm Jillian," she says and smiles, showing slightly angled teeth and a sharp overbite. Above her lip is the dot of a mole, and her blonde hair has dark roots. Your nephew blushes and holds back his own smile.
Max moves up next to you and stares at the two strangers.
"It's okay, Max," you say.
"Beautiful dog," Jillian says and holds her hand out, palm up. Max takes short steps forward and sniffs her hand. This leads to a few short licks, and then he returns to your side.
"And I'm Aaron."
"I love the uniform," Jillian says. "I respect the military."
Lyle unzips his windbreaker. "Listen, we don't want to be a bother. We can pay you if you'd like, and once the curfew is lifted, we'll head out." He shifts from leg to leg in a rocking motion.
"We really appreciate your help," Jillian says. She crosses her legs as she stands. "May I use your bathroom before I pee myself?"
Your nephew barely holds back a giggle.
"And I'm not sure you have first aid supplies, but I've got a cut on my leg I'd like to clean and bandage," Lyle says. As he points to his leg, you now spot damp blood near the ankle. You don't fully trust these two yet. You ask Lyle to wait here with Johnny while I escort Jillian to the bathroom.Sure, I'll show you to the bathroom, Jillian. Johnny can keep Lyle company for a few minutes," you say, taking Lyle's hand. "Why don't you have a seat? You must be tired." You lead Lyle to the couch, and he plops down.
"I'll stay with you, Mr. Lyle," Johnny says excitedly and sits next to him on the couch.
Jillian starts up the stairs just as you look away from Lyle. You can't help but notice her perky, curvy figure and the smooth, pale skin of her legs as she takes each step. She peeks over her shoulder at you and tugs down the end of her skirt. With a wink and a smile, she finishes the stairs and twirls at the second-floor landing.
"First door on the right," you say and point to the half-open door.
Jillian pauses. "You walked me up here, 'cause you don't trust us, right?"
"With the craziness going on due to the outbreak, I'm just being extra cautious. You look like nice people, but I can't be too careful these days."
"You're cute," she says and steps into the bathroom. "I'll leave the door open, so you'll know I'm not checking out your medicine cabinet or doing something else nefarious. I promise to be super-fast in there."
Jillian swings the door and leaves it cracked open. She hums a song, and you hear her light footsteps across the tile floor. "I'd turn the water on so you don't have to hear me, but it looks like the sink and tub are filled."
You hear the light patter of liquid, amazed that such a small body could hold so much. Once it stops, Jillian opens the door. "I had a Purell in my pocket, so I didn't use your water to clean my hands. Thanks for letting me use the bathroom. I feel sooooooooooo much better."
Jillian kisses your cheek as she walks by, and you follow her back downstairs.
Johnny sits next to Lyle on the couch, and the young boy holds out a comic book and reads it aloud. "And in the next page, Major Falcon jumps from the helicopter and knocks Lieutenant Havoc away from the nuclear reactor."
Lyle turns his head as you reach the first-floor landing. "Aaron? Oh, Johnny was just telling me about the adventures of Major Falcon."
"I'll go get the next comic in the series," Johnny says and rushes to the kitchen.
"Hey, Aaron, come sit here please." Lyle says and pats the sofa cushion next to him.
You sit next to Lyle, curious of his intentions.
"Mind if I touch your face?" Lyle asks. "I want to see who you are, and feeling your features helps me visualize what you look like."Sure, Lyle," you say and let him touch your face.He leans in and lifts his hands. "They're clean," he says with a smile. His hands feel smooth and warm on your face, and he lightly touches the contours of your cheekbones. His fingertips glide over your forehead, then he moves them over your eyelids, along your nose, and across your lips.
"You're very handsome." He draws his hands away. "Thanks for indulging me."
With everyone in the living room, you ask that they remain in this area where it's safe, not to wander off, and to keep all windows and doors closed.
With those rules in place, you rest on the couch while contemplating your next task.
Lyle, Jillian—you must be hungry."
"Yes, very," Jillian answers.
"I'm starving," Lyle says.
You head into the kitchen and look through the refrigerator. You make them a
Large meal. They haven't eaten in a while.
Since they've been out all day, the two of them must be famished. Cooking them a large meal is the right thing to do.
Jillian leads Lyle into the kitchen and sits him at the table. "Thank you for inviting us to eat with you," she says.
"Yes, we are in your debt," Lyle says and glides his hands around the table until he bumps the silverware.
Johnny sits next to you with a smile. "This is cool. Like a family dinner."
"So, Aaron," Lyle says as you serve his plate. "What are your plans for dealing with this mess called the outbreak?"
I plan to head out tomorrow and see what's going on in the area."
"That seems courageous given how dangerous it looks out there," Lyle says as he takes a bite of food. "Me and Jillian are heading back home and bunkering down until this thing blows over. I'm not sure when we'll leave, but tomorrow might be a good time to check out our car and grab the supplies we left there."
You chat mostly with Lyle throughout dinner, though he keeps the conversation light and provides ambiguous answers.
After the meal, the two guests thank you for your generosity, and Jillian helps you clean up.
You perform first aid on Lyle leg. "Lyle, maybe we should take care of that cut," you say.
"That would be great."
You lead Lyle to the kitchen. He takes your arm and holds on tight, and as you pass the couch, he lays his cane down.
"Again, let me just say that I appreciate your kindness. Everyone seems to have lost their common decency in this outbreak mess." Lyle pats your hand.
You sit him on a kitchen chair and help slip off his sneaker. He rolls up the left leg of his pants, and sure enough, there's an inch-long gash across his ankle. You open the first aid kit, remove the anti-bacterial spray, and clean the gash.
"Is it deep?" he asks, turning his leg.
"Don't move, please," you say as you apply some wound-healing ointment. "Not too deep. Was it a knife?" You inspect the wound carefully—it looks clean and smooth, as if care was taken to make the cut.
"I caught my leg against the bumper of a car. Jillian said it was jagged and bent. Just hope it doesn't get infected."
"You should be fine. I cleaned it real well," you say and apply the gauze.
"Can you believe what's going on out there?" Lyle asks. "Infected running around, military moving in to keep the peace. Do you have any way to protect yourself?You feel there's no risk in telling the truth.
"Good. We're unarmed. Of course, I can't aim too well, and Jillian's afraid of guns. Hopefully, we'll be safe out on the streets."
Lyle finishes cleaning the wound and wraps the clean cloth around his leg.
"Good as new. Thanks, Aaron," Lyle says and stands.
You lead him back into the living room, and he sits on the couch.
With everyone back in the living room again, you sit in your favorite chair for a moment's rest.
You offer Lyle and Jillian the spare bedroom to share and wish them a good night.
You check the kitchen door to make sure it's secure and do the same to the front door. Once everything appears to be in order, you head to the staircase.
"Ready to go to bed, Johnny?" you ask. Your nephew glances up from a notebook which he's been writing in with great fervor.
"Yep," he says and gathers his materials. Max follows, almost tripping you in his haste to reach the top landing.
When you reach the second floor, you peer through a tiny window looking over the side of your home. A pale glow from a back-alley light shines upon an infected man who's wandering through the narrow pathway, bouncing from wall to wall—aimless, hopeless. You turn from the window and walk to your bedroom.
Before you can say a word to your nephew, the door to his room closes. He seemed in good spirits only a short while ago—as good as anyone could be when facing the apocalypse.
You sit on the edge of your bed and fling the door shut with your foot. There's a chill in your room, but you undress and slip under the covers, feeling the warmth and comfort of the bed. Sleep takes you quickly and plunges you into dark and twisted dreams you won't remember in the morning.You awake with a start, eyes wide and sucking in a deep breath. Sweat coats your skin, and though you remember no nightmares, something feels off and unsettling. As you notice the blinking face of the small alarm clock on your dresser, you realize the electricity must have gone out overnight. Luckily, your generator turned on to provide back-up power.
Rising from bed, you feel rested, though your alarm system woke you a few times last night. Thankfully, nothing broke in. Still, a few more hours of sleep wouldn't hurt.
You walk towards the bathroom. As you move through the hallway, you see the other bedroom doors are still closed.
You're instantly reminded of life's simple pleasures that you took for granted. The bathroom light goes on. At this point, conserving water is a necessity, and when you turn on the faucet, liquid dribbles out without the normal pressure. Flushing the toilet ends with a nearly empty bowl that doesn't fill. This is the way it will be now. Since you filled the sink up yesterday to save water, you take out a cup for your morning hygiene. At least with soap, you're able to clean up, wash off the dirt, and feel refreshed.
You get dressed and walk over to Johnny's bedroom down the hall. Stopping and listening at the door, you hear movement and a low voice. As you walk into the room, your nephew is folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. He looks at you and pushes his thick-framed glasses up on his nose.
"Morning," he says, closing the lid of the suitcase.
Max rushes toward you, front paws lifted off the floor and hitting your legs. His mouth hangs open as he pants, and his tail spins in a circle.
"Going somewhere?" you ask.
"Just being prepared," he says and shoves the suitcase under his bed.
"I'll be ready to go down in a second, but I want to check on Jillian and Lyle first," you say.
Johnny tilts his head to the side, and his face scrunches. "Ares, I heard weird noises coming from their room last night, like when Mom's boyfriend was moving that air conditioner, and he was having troubling lifting it. Think they're rearranging the room?"
"Just ignore anything you hear from their room. I'll ask them to keep quiet."
As you near your guests' room, you hear a muffled conversation through the closed door. You knock and turn the handle, but the door doesn't swing inward, bumping into something solid and heavy on the other side.
"One moment," Jillian says.
Moments pass. Sounds of movement and hurried arguing come through the thin crack in the door. When it swings open, Jillian stands in front of you with an awkward smile. "Sorry about that. We had a dresser against the door just for safety."
Johnny slides past you and glances around the room. "Everything's the same. They didn't rearrange the room."
"Forget about it," you say to Johnny and turn back to Jillian.
You look past her at Lyle, who's sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'd rather you didn't block the door."
"No problem. Sorry about that."
"Anyway, I just came by to say I'm heading downstairs to check on things. Come down when you're ready."
"Will do," Jillian says.
A quick check of the house shows no damage and no break-ins, though blood splatter marks the sidewalk outside your home, and at least a dozen spent shells are lying around. Jillian walks downstairs, with Lyle close behind. He carries his cane but doesn't use it to find each step, nor does he wear sunglasses like he did yesterday. In fact, he stares down to watch where he walks and glances at you from time to time.
"I guess you're saying to yourself right about now, 'Hey, isn't that guy supposed to be blind?'" Lyle says as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.
He stands a few feet away and holds his hands together. "We lied to you, and for that I apologize. Frankly, people are much more eager to help a blind guy and a cute girl."
"Why are you telling him this?" Jillian says and walks toward the pile of gear you collected. "Let's just take his gear and go."
"Because we need to survive, Jill. And honestly, we have a better shot here with him than out there with his stuff."
Jillian stands at the edge of the pile, eyes turned down in a look of dejection.
Lyle stands and raises his hands as if in surrender. "Look, I'm coming clean. You've been straight with us and helped us. We lied to you, and that's wrong, but me and Jillian have been on the streets trying to survive from well before this pandemic. I know we can make it here. I feel like you're the kind of person who knows how to handle a situation of this magnitude. We lied to you, but if you give us a chance, we'll be truthful from this point forward. More than that, you can use us. The world is going to hell, and you need people watching your back. Let us do that."The two of you can stay, but you have to keep your word—no more lies."
Lyle puts his hands together like he's praying and bows to you. "You have my word. I will do what I can to earn your trust. Jill? You're being awfully quiet over there?"
Jillian folds her arms and stares past the both of you. "What choice do I have? I'm not leaving without you," she says. "But if we want to be truthful, then let's not hold back."
Jillian strides over to Lyle with a mischievous smile. She wraps her arms around his neck and plants a sultry kiss on his lips.
"Wow," Johnny says, mouth wide in shock. "Ares, did you see that?"
Lyle pulls back from Jillian and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Okay, Jillie-bean, let's not make our host and his nephew uncomfortable."
"I guess that means you're not related. I'm afraid to ask what else you've been lying about. Let's put this all behind us. We have a lot to worry about and need to rely upon one another now."
"Thank you, Aaron. We really appreciate this. Right, Jill?" Lyle says.
Jillian shrugs. "Breakfast?" she says, ignoring the question.
You walk into the kitchen and see the blinking 12:00 on the microwave clock, which confirms the power outage last night. As you open the refrigerator, the cold air has you silently thanking your solar-powered generator.
Lyle and Jillian sit at the table across from one another. Lyle places three cans of food down and pushes them toward you. "This isn't much."
Johnny heads to a cabinet and takes out plates and silverware. He sets the table with precision, with napkins folded and knives and forks in perfect alignment.
Max sits beside you, looking up and drooling.
The stove still works, and water trickles from the faucet. At least you can still cook, so you plan out breakfast you decide to make a typical breakfast.Everyone must be hungry, so making a normal meal with lots of protein and calories will help provide needed energy and lift everyone's mood. You open several cans of beans and a package of frozen vegetables. Along with three potatoes, you dice it all up with herbs and seasoning to make a hash. You fry up a package of bacon until crisp to go along with it.
"This looks amazing," Lyle says and spoons a portion of hash into Johnny's dish.
Jillian smothers butter on a piece of toast and bites a huge chunk. "I love butter," she says, licking some off the corner of her mouth.
"Wow, this potato stuff is tasty," your nephew says and hovers his fork over the plate. "I don't like beans most of the time, but they're good for me, right?"
"Yes, they're a good source of protein, which we need early in our day," you say.
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Lyle says as if teaching a class to children.
Jillian breaks out in laughter and stares at Lyle. She covers her mouth but can't contain her hilarity. Her face turns a deep shade of red, and the longer she looks at Lyle's face, the harder she laughs.
Lyle folds his arms and sits back, lips thin and eyes focused. "What's so funny?"
Jillian's laughter turns to full-blown cackling, and she leans over the table, food falling from her mouth to the plate. She slams her hand on the table, shaking the dishes, as tears slide down her face. She leans over so far that she falls off the side of her chair. In turn, Johnny giggles, and before long, he's matching her intensity.
Lyle chews his food and stares down at the plate, scowling between bites.
After a few minutes, the laughter simmers down, and everyone is quiet as they eat. The window rattles from a howling wind, and a powerful horn blows near your house. You rise and peek through the drawn windowshade and spot a military truck down the road. A soldier hangs off the back bumper and holds a canvas cover, her rifle held out one-handed at the ready.
"Hey Aaron, we're heading out soon to grab things from our car," Jillian says.
"We feel early in the day is the safest time," Lyle says, drinking from his glass of orange juice.
"Zombies don't care what time it is," Johnny says, his face wrinkled in a look of confusion.
"We know, Mr. Smarty-Pants," Lyle says. "We're worried more about regular people like the military."
"The Army is helping everybody. Why worry about them?" your nephew says. "They're stopping the zombies and keeping people from robbing and stuff, and—"
Jillian slams a fist on the table. "Enough with the questions. Jesus."
Seeing this…