14. COSTLY FREEDOM

No one noticed the dead boy slowly rising or the blanket falling off of his slack face. The darkness prevented them of becoming aware of the fact that all of their lives were in jeopardy. Silence surrounded them all and the soundless undead body was in a cot, searching for its first prey. Amelia was the only one that knew that they had been spending their time in the bedroom with a corpse, but even she couldn’t have predicted what happened next.

A piercing scream broke the silence and was the beginning of the chaos that followed. Children crying; running around in the darkness; not knowing where the threat was located. Amelia, trying to keep her head clear remained on her cot. After realizing that the first scream had come from the other side of the room, she called all of the children to her bed. Barely hearing her over the noise of fear, one by one, children found their way to where Amelia waited. Hushing them, she tried to listen and understand what had and still was happening. She could hear a quiet gnawing at the back of the room and silently made her way there. She found herself by the dead boys’ cot and after checking it, found it to be empty. A moment later, the sound stopped and was replaced by shuffling and before Amelia could realize what had happened, something heavy was upon her. She struggled against the weight and once she realized what it was, she pushed him off.

She could hear the dead boys’ jaws snapping at empty air like the ticking of the grandfather clock in the kitchen. Quickly, she stood up and grabbed the boy by his hair, dragging him under one of the cots. The cots were very low, close to the ground, so she had to struggle to get him where she wanted. Amelia could hear the boy banging his limbs against the hard wood of the bottom of the cot and knew that he won’t find his way out. She rushed to the scene of the incident and found of the younger girls lying motionlessly on the floor. As she swept her hands over her body, she could feel thick blood oozing through wounds in her neck and stomach. The girl was dead and Chloe knew that nothing can be done for her.

The lights came on in the cool room, just as the dead girl rose to a sitting position and made for Amelia’s arm. The girl noticed it just in time to push the girl backwards and kick her under one of the other cots. Still blinded by the sudden brightness, Amelia crawled her way to the rest of the children. The door burst open and the Mother ran in holding a bedside lamp. Amelia watched her observing the bloody scene with her mouth open. Her dead friends were still trying to fight their way out of under the cots and managed to make a lot of noise in doing so.

Still in the state of shock, she asked the children to head for the kitchen and wait for her there. Ten minutes later, she reappeared, still holding the bedside lamp. It was covered in dark red substance and had a coppery smell to it. The Mother looked furious, yet tired as if she had run a marathon, not killed a couple of defenceless zombies. She was breathing deeply and still managed to give every single one of them a deadly look as if they were to blame for the strange occurrences. Amelia noted that the Mother didn’t seem as surprised about finding the dead kids still kicking as the children. She realized that the Mother already had known that it could’ve happened which might have accounted for her nervous state a couple of hours earlier.

The rest of the children were trying their best to hide their quiet sobs, but Amelia started at the Mother with a deadly look of her own. She should’ve been grateful, because the Mother had saved her life by turning on the light allowing her to notice the dead girl reaching for her arm. But all she felt was hatred, pure, untainted anger for the cruel woman standing before her. She couldn’t help but imagine herself snapping the woman’s neck which brought an involuntary smile to her face. This made the Mother furious and she was about to rise her arm and smack the young defenceless girl. But just before she could bring the arm down upon the girl with burning fury, she heard a terrible crash coming from the back of the house.

As the Mother ran to check the source of the disturbance, Amelia rose to her feet. Quickly, she made her way to the kitchen counter and grabbed the largest knife there. She sped back to the rest of the children, at the same time concealing the knife under her shirt. Just as she took her place, the Mother reappeared with a look of horror on her old face. Amelia could here muffled banging coming from the back of the house and decided that it must be coming from the little room that connected the door leading to the garden from the rest of the house.

Mother produced a large rope from one of the cupboards and ordered them all to stand in a line according to their height. Amelia was the tallest and found herself to be tied up first and watched the Mother tying the rest of them, in a line to each other. Amelia found the Mother’s behaviour curious but suspected that nothing good would come of it. When she was done, she took hold of one part of the rope and dragged them all behind her. Amelia didn’t realize that they were heading for the door before it was too late. The children found themselves being dragged through the front yard and were terrified to hear screams after screams coming from the street. Before long, they came to the fence that separated them from the outside world and they quietly observed a few people running in every direction whilst being pursued by a dozen of remarkably bloody and wounded predators. Amelia noticed how they all resembled the two undead children from the bedroom and put two plus two together. The dead had risen to punish the living.

Suddenly, the gate sprung open, and the Mother started pushing them out, one by one. It was the first time Amelia or any of the others had been outside the fence, but that had not been how Amelia had imagined it would be like. The children screamed, trying to get back inside the comfort of their prison which gained much attention from the zombified savages. One by one, they turned their ugly bloody faces towards them and before long, they were all heading in their direction. The Mother forced herself between the children and held the rope from both ends, creating her own protective layer, made solely out of living human beings. She tried pushing herself along with the children towards her car, but her human shield was slowing her down. Even so, she relentlessly continued moving forward, her face a mask of determination.

           Amelia knew that it was then or never. Carefully, she slipped the sharp knife out from underneath her shirt. As it was sliding past her skin, it left a red mark on the grey cloth. Amelia didn’t feel the cut, her own face set in deep concentration and her mind filled with determination. But before she could act, the first zombie had already reached them. In matter of seconds, it was upon one of the children furthest away from Amelia and she could hear the girl scream out in pain. That was what sealed the Mother’s fate. There already had been too many deaths because of the woman and Amelia wanted to put an end to her reign of terror.

        Painfully gripping the knife, she raised it over her head and swiftly brought it down and through the Mother’s exposed neck. That had done the trick and in seconds, the woman collapsed and was beat by the children’s little feet. Thinking quickly, she started cutting the rope, setting herself free. Then she started working on the other children. She had realised 3 of them, when 7 zombies appeared out of nowhere and swarmed the rest of the tied children. They didn’t stand a chance against the angry horde and soon enough they stopped screaming for Amelia and became motionless. For the whole struggle, Amelia had tried to set them free but it had been futile. The children were dead and were about raise and she had to get the rest of them as far away from the madness as possible. With one last look at the dead Mother, she took the children by their hands and led them further in the darkness and cold.

13. RESTLESS CRUELTY

And as they marched, the army of the living dead, their feet barely touching the ground, silence engulfed them all around. They came to a rest in a large kitchen of the massive house they lived in. They all sat themselves on the ground with their backs against the wall. One by one, metal bowls half filled with tasteless porridge were dropped by their feet. They continued sitting, not even moving a muscle, staring ahead, without a glance towards the cold food. Fifteen minutes passed until finally, the Mother raised her hand, signalling the start of breakfast. The children dug in, using their hands, slowly eating and making sure that they don’t drop even a tiny droplet of the textureless mixture on their clothes or the clean floors. This was done carefully, not only because of the fear of a beating, but also because their hunger forbade them to waste any of the nutrients it gave their fatless bodies.

Once Amelia made sure that the Mother wasn’t watching them, she poured some of her porridge into the younger kids bowls, as she knew that she could live with less. She had formed a habit of it after one of the young children had died 3 years earlier. She knew the importance of the nutrients food contained and also was aware that she needed less than the younger children that still had much to grow.

Once the bowls were spotlessly clean, every single drop of the porridge gone, they all raised their heads and once again began looking ahead. It was almost like a ritual, they all knew what they had to do and did it without uttering a word. Everything was done with careful precision, almost in a mechanical manner. The breakfast was over and they were waiting for the Mother to give them their next order. With an another lift of the hand, the children all stood up and as the Mother left the room, in a single file they followed. Not one of them missing a step, soon they found themselves outside in the garden.

That day, all of them were on the garden duty, except a couple of younglings that were to polish all of the wooden surfaces in the house. Amelia loved working in the garden and spending her day around plants. It gave her mind the necessary passage that allowed it to form fantasies of expeditions in the wild among the great creations of mother earth. All of them were lucky because the sun was out that day and the weather was as comforting as mother’s arms around a crying child. It wasn’t like Amelia knew how that felt, but she could imagine that it felt as good as the man’s arms around her, if not even more special.

They had been working in the garden for 6 hours straight when they first noticed commotion on the other side of the fence. There had been a car collision and as much as Amelia could gather, one of the drivers had died. Later she knew that the driver had stood back up and attacked the other people around him. But as she was trimming the rose bushes, she could only hear the screaming of two women and a man, then silence. She was curious, but knew better than to stop working, in case the Mother was observing them through one of the windows. She could sense that the other children were afraid and she couldn’t blame them. She wasn’t frightened by the screams because she knew that even though they were miserable on their side of the fence, they were also safe. But she was worried about the people on the road and sorry for the ones that had gotten hurt.

Around two hours had gone by when the Mother finally called them inside. Even though they had been working for 8 hours straight, it was unusual for her to allow them to be done this early. There were many hours of light left and she never had problems with forcing them to work at night. Amelia was glad to rest, but was very suspicious of the Mothers’ motives.

The Mother appeared to be uneasy and frightened by something, Amelia noted, though it was visible that she was trying to hide this fact from the children. It was not like any of the children, even Amelia, the bravest of all, could ask her what was wrong. Speaking to the Mother or speaking at all without her permission earned them a beating. Every one of them knew better than to displease her, especially when she was unpredictable.

She was pacing in front of them all, unable to contain her emotions. Amelia didn’t know what was going on, but if it made the Mother actually show any sign of being human, it must be big, she thought. As she was walking by them once again, the Mother cursed under her breath and suddenly stopping, kicked one of the older children in the stomach. He went down with a thump, gasping for breath. Amelia wanted to run towards him to see if he was okay and help him back to his feet, but she knew that it would put them all in trouble. Fortunately, after 5 minutes of intent staring at the whimpering boy, she turned around and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving them all alone. Amelia rushed to the injured boy and knelt before him. While trying to calm him down with soothing words, she checked him for any outward signs of trauma around the affected area. She found none, so she helped him sit up and found her way back to her place against the wall.

They had been waiting there for a half an hour, when the boy finally tried to stand up. Suddenly, the boy started screaming like a swarm of bees had covered his body and were stinging him at the same time. The sound was so painful to her ears; she ran back to him and covered his mouth, trying to silence him. She knew that there was no way that the screams were not heard by the Mother and that when she would return, they would all pay dearly.

As Amelia had predicted, soon enough the Mother stormed into the kitchen yelling profanities, grabbed the boy by the arm and putting her other hand up. She dragged the screaming boy across the floor towards the hall as the other children quickly, but silently followed. In no time, they found themselves outside the bedroom door and watched the Mother throw the hurt boy through the doorway of the room. She gave the rest of them a deadly look and they all ran inside. Once they heard the familiar click of the lock, they all rushed in aid of the unfortunate family member. A moment later, he fell silent.

The boy had been unconscious for a couple of hours when he finally stopped breathing. Amelia had been sitting by his side for the whole time, brushing his hair back and talking to him in a soft voice. The other children were scattered around the bedroom, quietly weeping. It was very dark as always and Amelia didn’t notice him pass until she made one of her regular pulse checks. She didn’t tell any of the other children what had happened and slowly pulled the thin blanket over his head. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she gave the boy a last kiss and moved over to her own cot.

Amelia was unsure of the cause of the boys’ death, but guessed that he had a pre-existing illness that was made fatal by the kick. She bit into the skin of her arm and tried to get her emotions under control. The rage that had been gathering within her for all those years was becoming hard to contain. As she closed her eyes, she saw herself stabbing the Mother over and over again. It was one of her most frequent fantasies and she was very ashamed of it. At that moment, though, she wished she could make it into reality. Every single time the whip had made contact with hers and all the children skin came flooding back to her. She knew that something was going on outside the fence and she was going to use it as a way of bringing the Mother down.

12. THE GIRL FROM NOWHERE

Amelia sat on her cot, quietly, as instructed. The room was filled with black, empty darkness. The sun was nowhere in sight, yet she had been woken up to receive her breakfast and do the chores. She wished for even a little bit of light to find its way into the room from the well lit hall, but the Mother always made sure that the doors and the windows were closed, not letting in even the tiniest ray of artificial or natural light into the bedroom. Amelia never understood the reason for this. Why did the Mother want them to remain in complete darkness? Didn’t she realize that the youngest ones were terrified of darkness? That the only reason they weren’t crying was that they were even more afraid of the Mother herself? Did she think that keeping them in darkness will make them appreciate her more and make them more eager to work in the light? She was right about one thing. The children, especially the youngest ones, worked harder at the day to day chores, just so they could spend more time in the well lit rooms of the house, among the Mother’s fineries.

Amelia found it to be cruel and despised the Mother for her misdeeds. Even though she had spent all her life under the Mother’s roof, she knew that this is not the way they should be treated. In the books she secretly read, the children were always treated like they were something precious, something to be treasured. Even though the books contained stories about mischievous kids being punished for their bad deeds, it was never as bad as this and they almost always deserved it. Even the good children that were treated like the ones that belong to the Mother, always found their way out of the prisons of their fear and found happiness. But those were only stories, she knew, and this was the reality.

She enjoyed reading the books about fantasy and magic, but she found the educational books to be more worthwhile. Sometimes, when she found a box of matches and hid it under her shirt or dress, she would spend the night teaching the other older children to read.

A few years back, a man had lived with the Mother and he had thought the alphabet and writing to her. Of course, this had also been done in secret. The man used to bring the children food and sweets at night, while the Mother was sleeping and sometimes, when she was out, he would turn on the lights. She still remembered sitting on his lap as he corrected her reading. Other kids would gather around them and listen to the stories, their eyes wide in surprise at how beautiful they were. She liked the man, but when the Mother found out that he had been feeding them, she threw him out. There had been a lot of screaming and fighting, the man threatening her, saying that he’ll report her to the authorities. The children had run to her and she hugged them as they wept.

The man never returned, even though he promised he would. Amelia had her suspicions, because she knew that the man would never let them down. She thought that he might have even loved them. She was sure that the Mother had done something to him, might have even killed him. That night, she came into the room and found them all crying, gathered around Amelia. She didn’t cry. She was stronger than the others. The mother ripped the children one by one out of Amelia’s arms and gave them a beating. Amelia got the worst of it, because she didn’t cry and she had been caught comforting them. The Mother whipped her, and screamed that she won’t stop until she could hear Amelia cry. But she never did and the Mother stopped an hour later, because she got tired. After that, Amelia couldn’t lie on her back for a week and for a day every shirt she wore was stained with blood. That made the Mother even angrier. But Amelia was glad that the others didn’t have to suffer more and she was more than willing to receive more beating just to keep the other kids out of the line of fire.

She got her books from one of the school children that passed by the fence that surrounded the garden she was often forced to work in. The girl, who couldn’t have been younger than 15, hid the books in one of the rose bushes on her way to school. Sometimes, she left little notes in the books, reassuring ones. After Amelia was done with the books, she used to write little notes of her own for the girl. After a while, the girl asked for requests and it was then when Amelia started reading more serious and educational books. Most of all, she enjoyed Biology and the girl would write little definitions beside more complicated words before leaving the books for Amelia. That was how she learnt everything she now knew about the world.

Sometimes, the older children would ask her questions and she would explain the more complicated things in a simple way, because she believed that they should be educated too. She was very envious of the school girl and was even more grateful for her compassion. For all those years, the Mother didn’t even suspect it all happening under her nose, and Amelia was always very cautious. Certainly, she didn’t want the girl to meet the same fate as the man. She did always wonder whether the girl knew the man and was doing it by his request. If so, she felt very sorry for her, because she knew how hard it was to get over losing him.

She had been sitting in silence for over an hour, surrounded by other cots that contained other children, sitting in the darkness, just like her. The Mother always woke them much earlier than necessary, just to force them to sit in the dark. Amelia didn’t mind, because that gave her some alone time, to think about the world outside the tall fence. But she worried about the young ones, because she knew that they were very afraid.

Finally, they heard the Mother approach the door and get hold of the handle. The doors opened with a slow creek and the light from the hallway finally found its way inside the cold bedroom. The Mother’s face was in shadow, with the light illuminating her figure, making her appear almost like a saint. But Amelia knew that she was nothing like the saints of the books. Her entrance caused the room to become dead silent, even the birds that were barely auditable before, had grown quiet. The Mother put her hand up, and all of them knew that it was an order for them to stand up and form a queue before her. All the children made their way to their designated positions quickly, but silently.

The time was 5:30 on the 23^rd of June. It was a start of another dreadful day, but this time it would end quite differently and would allow Amelia to take her first lungfuls of the rotten smell of freedom.

11. DAY TO DAY

She was waken by an uneasy feeling. She just felt watched, or it could’ve been her dream. But as she opened her eyes, she saw Amelia staring at her. She couldn’t help but think that it was the cause of her awakening and uneasiness.  The girl was standing over Chloe’s sleeping body in a crouched position, holding something behind her back. Dawn was breaking; she could feel it in the air.

“What is it, kiddo?”

“It’s morning.”

Chloe frowned at her. “I didn’t mean that. What do you want? What are you holding there?”

For the 3 days the girl had been living there, she had woken up just before the break of dawn and never allowed Chloe to sleep in. Chloe found it strange and infuriating.

The girl revealed a pair of scissors tightly clenched in her fist. She extended her arm to allow Chloe to examine them closer.

“Scissors.”

She was taken aback by the fact that a young girl had been standing over her with a pair of scissors concealed behind her back while she was sleeping. But the girl was not acting in a threatening manner, but was quietly observing Chloe with an innocent look in her young eyes.

“What were you doing with those, Missy? New rule, no sharp objects to be touched with my permission and certainly not to be concealed!”

“I don’t understand. What have I done?” she gave Chloe a quizzical look and dropped the scissors on the floor, just between the two of them.

“Don’t be throwing sharp objects either!!! What the hell were you doing with them, anyway?”

“It’s morning. You said you will cut my hair. I was waiting for you to wake up. I wanted you to sleep in, so you would be well rested. I was being very quiet.”

“Oh. Hell, I forgot. Fuck. Sorry ‘bout that. Just caught me off guard. Yeah, just let me make some coffee and have a cigarette and I’ll cut them for ya. Want some too?” Chloe yawned and got up.

After sharing a cup of coffee with the girl and having her cigarette, Chloe sat the girl down on her backpack. The girl wanted her hair short, as not to have them in the way during these hard times.  Impressed, she started cutting the girls long beautiful hair and finally forming it into a short Mohawk. Chloe now regretted not bringing a mirror along, because there was no way for Amelia to admire her handiwork.

“I was actually planning on going into town today, what ya think, kiddo?” Chloe asked the girl while she was brushing the remaining hair off of her face and neck.

The girl quickly turned around, her face a painting of terror. All she said was no.

“What’s wrong? I just want to check it out, that’s all.” Said Chloe in confusion.

Amelia sat down on the cold floor and turned her face towards the wall. Chloe wasn’t sure what to do, especially in case she was crying. But the girl wasn’t crying. She was sitting there with a face void of all colour and emotions.

“I think it’s about time you tell me what happened to you before you landed on my door step.”

10. SLAVE ORPHANS!

Greetings. You won't believe this! Shit just got real. I got a visit from the three wise men, following a star in a form of a fucking kid. I've never been that big on Christmas, so I didn't appreciate the surprise arrival. I kicked some serious zombie ass last night. It was glorious, but my foot seems to be royally fucked. So, the only gift the fucktards brought was the fucking star. The gypsy bastards stole it and left it upon my roof. Have I ever mentioned my hatrad for kids? No? Well, I fucking hate kids. They are needy, useless waste of space. They can't do anything worthwhile and demand constant attention. They also slow you down. Don't get me wrong, I treat them very well. And I'm quite good with children and it comes naturally. I just can't stand the little whiney bastards. I could've been a great mother... Ha ha. Anyways, I guess I am a mother now.

Her name is Amelia and she is 9 and a half. Well done to her. Perfect age for slave labour. I kid, I kid. When the layers upon layers of dirt is removed from her face, body and hair, she is actually quite cute. She also seems to be very mature for her age. I'm not really surprised she survived. Also, she has some attitude. I like her. She gave out to me for assuming that she would not know what 'dehydration' is and gave me a whole lecture on how assumptions make a fool out of both you and me. I love smart people, even if they haven't hit puberty yet. She warmed up to me quite quickly. I told her that even though I am happy about it, she still shouldn't trust people that easily. She just told me that she was well known for her ability to read people. I just grinned and dropped the subject. I'm not even that pissed off for having to take care of her. I really do like her.

Protip for bad parenting no. 1: Force them to drink coffee in the morning because they are sleepy and you need them to help you wipe the blood of the floor.

Protip for bad parenting no 2: Ask them to help you wipe blood of the floor.

Protip for bad parenting no. 3: Pat them on the back for a job well done and offer them a cigarette.

If the kid will stay alive for long or even will live with me, I'm pretty sure she will grow up to be a fucked-up teenager. At least she refused the cigarette. I dressed her in my oversized Nightmare Before Christmas T-shirt which perfectly works as a stylish dress. And kudos to her for asking me not to put any sugar in her coffee. She said that she has always wanted her first coffee experience to be black, just the way it was intended. I am all for black coffee. No sugar, no milk, no cream. Well, milk or cream was not an option this morning and nor do I think it will be tomorrow morning. She seemed to be unhappy with the bitter taste, but after a few sips, she was drinking it like a pro. She even mentioned coffee being one of those drinks you just had to acquire liking for. I have new found respect for the kid. Even I couldn't drink it without sugar at the age of 13. And she is 4 years younger! Hell yeah for finding bad-ass orphans! Well, I assume she is an orphan. She is not yet ready to talk about her experiences, but I'm pretty sure her parents are dead. Or living dead. One or the other. Both possibilities suck. But she seems as tough as a nail. Lucky me. I hate whiney kids.

So yeah, this entry is a short one. I have to finish cleaning the shack and I might even reward myself with another mug of coffee. So long fucker(s)!!!

9. THE NIGHT OF VISITORS

Chloe dreamt. She dreamt about her brother, smiling at her while holding her hand. Just sitting at the table across from her. He looked nothing like she remembered, no blood, no gashes on his face and most importantly – his neck was whole once again. They sat at the table for hours just staring at each other. Tears ran down Chloe's cheeks, but her face showed only dread. Guilt of not saving her brother's precious life.

“At least I won't procreate.” he laughed. She laughed.

That was the first thing he had said. He was about to say something more. Something important, because his face turned into a serious frown and his eyes darkened in concern.

But she woke up with a jerk before he had the chance to say it. She lied on the floor in confusion of what could've woken her up. It was still the middle of night, and she estimated that she most likely had been asleep for 2 or 3 hours at most.

Chloe had never been a light sleeper. She could sleep through anything unless something posed a threat to her. She listened intently for any unusual sound that might have been the reason of her waking.

Nothing. Silence.

She placed her head back onto her backpack and thought about her dream. How nice it had been seeing her brother in his perfectly normal unzombified state. She wished she could fall asleep and the dream would resume. It gave her a feeling of warmth... The delusion that he is fine.

*Bang. Bang. Bang.*

“Oh damn jesus and his homosexual friends” she cried out in exhaustion. “No one's home, you shit eating dumbnivores!”

After noting to herself that she shouldn't swear as much and patting herself on the back for the clever new term she thought of, she stood up. She wasn't as much afraid as angry. How dare they interrupt her sleep and order her to kill them? Who the hell did they think they were?

She needed a plan to get rid of them. She wanted to take care of the situation before it attracted any unwanted attention. Harder done than said. She decided to just go with the flow. She seemed to perform better in that kind of situation. She guessed it was all about stage fright. If she devised a plan and tried to follow it, she'd be too conscious of what she was doing. Therefore – fuck it, she thought and removed the barricades. With a metal crowbar in one hand and a button in another, she opened the door and stepped to the left to allow her guests inside.

“Welcome to your final resting place, roadkill smelling Nazis!” she giggled as one of them faceplanted the floor.

There were 3 of them. More than she wished for, but not enough to overwhelm her completely. Three is also supposed to be 'a magic number' so she was hoping that Harry Potter or Luke Skywalker was somewhere around the corner, ready to stick his lightsaber/wand up someones ass. Neither of them showed up, but Chloe the Ninja appeared to have gotten the memo.

Chloe straightened her back, jumped on the back of the 'Floor Eater' as she called him and swung her crowbar right for the second one's face. Floor Eater was trying his best to get up, but because of the fact that he was lacking an arm and his intestines were making the floor slippery, he was unable to throw Chloe off of himself. The second one went down in a flash and hit his head on the corner of the door frame.

Chloe couldn't help cringing as she watched Corner Banger's head making contact with the wood. If the guy would be alive, he'd probably be whining and rocking back and forth from the pain. Unfortunately, he was a zombie and was already getting up to avenge his cracked skull and celebrate with some late night snack. Chloe wasn't worried about the third one, because his long coat had caught a nail and he just kept exercising on the spot, not getting anywhere close to her.

Quickly stomping her right foot on the Floor Eater's face, she took a step closer to Corner Banger. He finally had gotten to his feet when he was met with another blow from the crowbar. His already cracked skull once again went straight for the corner. Chloe took her chance, stepping off of poor Floor Eater and onto unfortunate Corner Banger. With his severely damaged back of the head facing her, he was an easy kill. She lifted the crowbar vertically and drove it straight into his brain through the pus secreting crack.

She realized that she had been holding her breath this whole time and finally breathed out. She felt relieved, but that feeling was short lived. She felt her foot being grabbed by a shaking hand and 2 seconds later, a gaping mouth covering her ankle.

Swiftly she spun around and looked down upon the one that had bitten her.

“You piece of shit!” she screamed and started stomping her foot wildly at the dead man's face. “ NO. ONE. FUCKING. MESSES. WITH. THE. CHLOE.” the head received a heavy blow with each word screamed out by the furious girl.

Overkill was the best word to describe the fate of the Floor Eater. She changed her tactics to crowbar blows half way through it, even though the zombie had already been eliminated. Gasping for breath, she finally let the crowbar slip through her fingers. She slumped to the floor, pieces of skull and brain matter clinging to every part of her body.

She only half turned her head when she noticed the Coat Hanger still trying to get at her. She was exhausted. She lifted her trousers to look at her ankle which was pulsing in pain. No broken skin. Not even a mark. She face-palmed herself when she realized that the pain was due to her work out. She could've kicked herself if she wouldn't have ruined her foot.

Awkwardly, she stood up and retrieved a knife from the far corner of the room. She slowly approached the Coat Hanger and with some skillful maneuvering and ninja moves, drove it through the zombie's eye.

“Bastards.” she spat under her breath.

She went over to her back pack and took out a pack of cigarettes. She lit one and stood in the middle of the room, evaluating her work. She chain smoked 5 cigarettes in total until she finally decided to do some clean up. With her foot 'royally fucked', it was harder than it should've been. Dead bodies were so much heavier than alive ones.

With the Coat Hanger roughly shoved behind a tree with the rest of the gladiators, Chloe turned to make her way back home. But before she could take a step, her eyes caught some movement up on the roof of the shack.

“More? Hell, come at me bro! I'm in a homicidal mood anyways!”

But instead of a silent stumbling towards the edge of the roof, she heard a silent whimper in response to her threat. Since when did zombies cried, let alone understood a simple sentence?

“Hey! Who the hell is there? I know you're not one of them! Come down here and we can have a civil conversation. As long as you don't stir shit, I'll be as friendly as Klingon during heat.”

This was greeted by silence. She was getting mad with the person up on her roof. She was being friendly, after all.

“Okay. This is how it's going to happen. You are gonna get down here. I don't care how, roll down for all I care. You will state your purpose and I will decide on what to do. If you won't be standing in front of me in 10 seconds, I'm bringing out my gun.” She remained calm and displayed authority, even though inside she was a little scared girl.

That was why she was surprised to see a little scared girl stumbling down the roof and landing, painfully by the looks of it, on the ground in front of her. She was wearing a white, dirty night gown. Her hair had dirt in it and gave a whole new meaning to the term 'dirty blonde'. Her face was completely covered in mud and she was skinny enough for her ribs to be seen every time she took a breath. Also, she was bare-foot.

“Little girl, are you okay? Did any of them bite you?” Chloe disguised her inquiry with concern for the girl, even though she needed to know it for selfish reasons.

The girl shook her head, but said nothing.

“What is you name dear?” Chloe gave the girl one of her warmest smiles. And it was sincere.

That was one again met by silence. Chloe realized that she had probably scared the girl half to death and now she was too afraid to speak.

“Don't be afraid, kiddo. I'm not going to hurt you. I said those things just because I was scared too. Did they follow you here?”

“Yes.” The girl seemed to be gaining more courage and that pleased Chloe greatly. She did not want to deal with a terrified kid for the rest of the night.

“Explains it.” The anger about the night's events hadn't left Chloe and the girl sensing it flinched just as Chloe stretched her hand towards hers.

“I don't blame you, dear. Come on in and we will get ourselves cleaned up. I'm gland you found my place and those nasty things didn't hurt you. You are probably starving and dehydrated. I mean thirsty. My little house is quite disasterous, but it's better than the roof. Look at me, all rambling on. Come in, don't be afraid.” She offered the girl another warm smile and extended her arm once again.

Timidly, the girl took it and slowly followed Chloe inside.

8. NATHAN

Well, hello there. Yes, it’s me again. I’m still pretty much alive and kicking. Not planning on dropping it like Obi Wan anytime soon, just so you know. I just returned from a trip outside my smelly oasis and don’t start jumping in excitement, I’m all well and without any bite marks. Actually, it was pretty uneventful. That’s probably because I chickened out and didn’t really go into town. But the trip was worthwhile, because I did go to the nearby petrol station and got a fuck load of water. Excuse my language. Or not. Well, when I say ‘fuck load’, I mean the water is still running and I won’t run short any time soon. And guess what? I made some coffee. I’m actually drinking it right now. I’m cumming all over the place. With that mental image and because I have nothing of importance to write about, I will talk a bit more about myself. I just love doing it and I bet you love reading it – I’m pretty awesome after all.


Nathan Travis is my boyfriend. Or is it ‘was’ my boyfriend? I guess us meeting again is not very likely which means that he would not be able to perform his boyfriend duties making him not only a bad spouse, but also a dumped one. Oh I haven’t thought about sex in way too long. Damned apocalypse. So, I was in a relationship with Nathan before the shit hit the fan. We had been going out for, what was it… Seven months? It’s my longest relationship yet.  I never did learn to love him. Alex said that it’s because I’m heartless. Well, I don’t agree with him, but there has to be a similar explanation. The lack of love didn’t seem to bother us, though. We were very close and spent a lot of time together. It was like having a fuck buddy friend with benefits with the added bonus of holding hands, going on dates and a lot of cuddling. The fact that I enjoyed those activities proves my brother wrong. Oh and the sex was great. He knew just what to do to turn me on and we rode with rainbows atop unicorns throughout the night. Well, I guess I’m exaggerating a tiny bit. What I mean is he was an awesome ride and I get horny just by thinking about it. I should stop objectifying men, it’s very wrong and sexist. Lets fix this: he was a wonderful lover and we pleased each other throughout the night and our hearts became one through the connection in the passion we shared. Better? I do realise that I’m not one of the nicest people, but why should I care? Why should I keep up an appearance for others sake? Especially now that the world has hit rock bottom? Anyway, I’m getting off the topic.


Nathan – a very sweet, intelligent guy and very interesting to talk to. I won’t go into details, but he was just altogether an awesome guy. On the day of the survival we were supposed to meet up. He lived about 30 minutes away in a nearby town and he was taking the bus to Tullamore. He arrived at my house just after I really started realising that something was going wrong with this wretched world. Not only did he bring me the new Focus magazine, he also brought me some bad news. Apparently, everything had started to happen before he had to get the bus, so he had witnessed an elderly lady with a bluish pale skin tone and eyes glazed with white taking a chunk out of an eight year olds inner thigh.  It didn’t help that the old bitch was his aunt and the kid was his best friends brother. I know, pretty traumatizing. What would you do in that situation? Well, he ran to the bus stop and got on his bus to get to my house. Pretty damn clever if you ask me. His auntie was eating his mates brother and instead of helping, he got the fuck out of there. Yeah, I know, sounds like he is a pretty twisted bad person. But that is not the case. He is not mindless emotionally unstable piss wagon like most people are. He knew that shit just got real.


Anyway, he’d seen some people running here and there while on the bus, but nothing of importance. I took him up to my room and did the girlfriend thing. I talked to him about everything and discussed the possibilities. Obviously, both of us already suspected that this was some kind of an infection causing zombie-like behaviour. We cuddled for a while and decided to have some reassurance sex. Yes, I know that it sounds weird, but it’s a great way to rid yourself of the frustrations and the emotional whirlpool.


Afterwards we were glued to the TV and the internet trying to find out more and confirm our suspicions. Obviously, the TV was not much help. They either lied through their teeth or knew fuck all about the situation. The internet was the goldmine. Not only did we confirm our suspicions, we also got the kick in the ass we needed to start thinking ahead. Nathan wanted me to go with him and I wanted him to come with me. But after some discussion we decided we must go our separate ways to ensure our survival. We both thought we would be a burden for each other and we afraid of the effect of the emotional ties in case of an emergency.


So, with a soft kiss and recommendation to read page 57 of the magazine, he went his way. I still wonder whether we did the right thing by splitting up and whether he was alright. I hope that one day I will find out. I’d rather know that he is dead or a zombie than live my life on false hope that he is out there, still looking for me.

7. LEAVING THE NEST

Three whole days had gone by since the day of survival, but Chloe had not been brave enough to remove the barricades that led to the world outside. She busied herself with the list of inventory, the list of things she yet had to obtain somehow. On top of her list, was a book about weapons. She had no idea how anything, apart from a knife, worked.

She found her preparations pathetic – what was she readying herself for, a camping trip? Knowing that we all had come from a single celled organism that lived in the ocean did not seem as such an important piece of information now. Bird mating rituals would offer no help at all if a horde of zombies were to stumble her way.

She hummed a song by Scars on Broadway while gathering her things in a huge pile. This was a big day for her. She was going outside. Her imagination ran freely while she was gathering all of her clothes and stuffing them in her backpack. Hordes of zombies just outside the door, waiting to be fed, a group of survivors armed with rifles waiting for her to come out so they could rob her of the supplies that mysteriously appeared, stray dogs with rabies foaming at the mouth grabbing for her leg, thousands of rodents coming to nibble at her intestines. Oh the beauty of outside world. There were so many things that could go wrong.

She started figuring out how the barricades were placed, so she could remove them and leave them to be reused. She took her time, dreading the moment they will be removed. She hesitated before opening the door once the door was free of the table. Her hand on the old fashioned handle was shaking, but ready to shut the outside world out in case of danger.

She could feel the sun on her face as she slowly opened the door with a creek. No unexpected surprises awaited her. No zombies, survivors, sick dogs, hungry rodents… Nothing. She kicked herself when instead of relief she felt disappointment. How typical of her, she thought. Always dreading yet wanting danger. She felt like she deserved to be eaten by one of the ghouls.

She closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment, enjoying the sun on her pale skin. It felt so good after spending 3 whole days bottled up in an old smelly wooden shack. A populated area was only 15 minutes away and she knew that she wouldn’t be greeted the way she had been now – in silence, by nobody.  She regretted not getting more familiar with her surroundings before world came to an end. She had no clue where she could settle down, but knew that once the colder weather came, she’d freeze to death or die from some disease before that.

She looked around and started walking along the trail that led out of the woods. She wondered why she couldn’t hear birds singing or fallen branches being stepped on by wandering wild animals. It was her favourite part when she walked through the woods. She thought it to be odd, but decided it’s most likely due to their natural instincts. They were smarter than her – they didn’t go straight for the danger, they ran/flew for their lives. For a while she wondered where they were and whether they found a safe place to hold up in. It kept her from thinking about what awaited her at the end of the forgotten trail.

She missed Nathan. Chloe wanted him there with her, to kiss her and say that everything will be okay. But he was not there. She hoped he was okay, wherever that was. Unless he was already dead. Everyone else seemed to be.

One of the reasons why she decided to return to town was the short supply of water available. You can’t even imagine how she craved a cup of hot coffee. A steaming mug filled with liquid orgy, she thought. Her mouth watered. Oh the yummy goodness.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” She sighed and lit a cigarette.

She could clearly see the start of the clearing up ahead. After crossing that, no one knew what awaited her. Excitement, fear, hormones and adrenaline filled her veins.

6. CHLOE WHO?

My name is Chloe Ryan and I have survived the first day of zombie apocalypse. I am alone in a one room wooden house, with all of the windows boarded up and I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know what is happening outside and most of the information I have is based on assumptions and logic. I’d like to know how I survived, but it appears that the memory had been traumatizing enough to be wiped out of my mind. The world is crawling with the living dead while I am sitting in this grey, old unstable structure trying to leave a mark in this world. I exist and this is not a hoax. I woke up at around 4 am on the 24^th of June, holding an army knife in my hand like there was no tomorrow. I was covered in blood from head to toe wondering whether it belonged to a zombie or a person. That night I almost killed myself. Right beside me was a gun and a box of ammo. I did not know how I acquired it, but I knew it was not mine. I live in Ireland and keeping guns at home is a very uncommon custom. After realising that I had killed both my mother and brother Alex, I thought that I could take no more of it. Two things stopped me. First was the innocent look my baby rats gave me – I realised I cannot leave them. I realised I have something to live for and that I was not alone. My saviours. The second… I had my first flashback from the day of survival. I could see Alex staring at me with his hungry eyes. His features were set on default – emotionless. But somewhere deep inside I could see him, begging to be released. Then I knew – I had to stay alive. I have to continue no matter what, if not for me then for his sake. And many more like him. I felt like I was the relief they so longed for. So, here I am. You don’t know me, but I know you. You are a survivor, one of the last of our kind. Maybe you are still struggling to survive, maybe you are rebuilding this world. But I know one thing – you will force yourself to care about what I have to say. I am counting on you. This is history and you have a responsibility. Who am I? I don’t know if anyone can answer that question. But I can tell you about myself, so you could draw your own conclusions.


I am the girl you don’t want your son to be holding hands with. I am the girl you hope your daughter would never hold hands with. I am the person your parents warned you about. I am not saying that I am a bad person. I am different. I am the youngest daughter of Sam & Samuel Ryan. I have 3 siblings – a sister and 2 brothers. One of them was killed by me. I loved Alex. I was a difficult child. I took every advantage possible of being the youngest and the most cherished. The first time I used alcohol was at the age of 11. After that, I spent quite a lot of time getting myself in alcohol related trouble. I smoked every now and again until the age of 14 when I picked up it permanently. My parents divorced when I was nearing the age 15 and I knew it was my fault. Oh, don’t you worry, I didn’t blame myself. My father was a terrible person, and to save me and Alex from his influence, mother moved away. We were so much better off and a lot happier alone. I swore a lot since I was but a youngling and continued to throughout adolescents. Flirtation was my main way of communicating to both sexes and I was quite open about my own sex life. Oh, did I mention that I dressed in all black, had black eye make-up and listened to heavy metal? Yes, I am one of those people. I didn’t try to fit a label… I just preferred black over every other colour. And I found metal to be a lot deeper than pop music and I preferred aggressive over lovey-dovey whiney songs. I was very loud and annoying most of the time. It is uncommon considering that I suffered from SAD (Social Anxiety Disorder). I know, the abbreviation is pretty fitting. You probably expect me to tell you that I dropped out of high school and started selling drugs, but my story if not even that interesting. I was very good at school. I was on top of my class and worked very hard every day. I studied many subjects not offered in the school I attended at home. Education was my drug, not heroin. The only drug I had ever tried if you don’t count alcohol and cigarettes is weed. And I hated it. I spend most of my days indoors, but I was very fascinated by the magnificent outdoors and the nature it contained. I hated violence and confrontation. I also hated the humanity. I still do. I loved every single creature on this earth though. I am one of those people that wouldn’t ride a horse because they didn’t want to kick it. Yes, I am one of them. On top of all of that, I am a proud Atheist. Don’t judge me, I can’t help being smarter than the rest. I was born with enough intellect to drop faith and believe in reality. No evidence – not reality. Now that I have already insulted your beliefs (assuming you have any), I think I have made quite an impression. This is my notebook. It will contain all the information of my everyday dealings and thoughts. You will learn a lot more about me as we go. Yes, I am pretty confident that I will survive for a very long time. With my attitude, it would be hard to bring me down. One day I might even tell you how I feel about killing my own family. I’m not sure how I feel about the whole Alex situation, because I don’t know what happened. Hopefully it will all come back to me eventually. I am dreading the day, but it is essential for both of us to find out what happened on the day of survival. I’m pretty sure I kicked some major zombie ass.

5. START AFRESH

“Good morning, zombie fuckers, wherever you are!”

Silence was followed by Chloe's laugh.

She rolled over on her side and stared at the canned goods stacked along the wall. Inventory is necessary, she thought to herself. But first things first. She has to do something about her wretched appearance. She didn’t have a mirror (her looks were the last thing on her mind, after all), but she was pretty sure that if someone saw her, she’d either get shot or would cause some old lady a heart attack. That would only mean one more zombie to worry about.

She went through her backpack and found the baby wipes she was looking for. No use wasting water on cleaning herself. It’s a precious supply these days.

She started rubbing her face with one of the wipes. It was hard work because there was lots of blood all over her cheeks and eyebrows. As she scraped at her jaw, she wondered whose blood it was. Was she getting rid of evidence that could put her away for life?  Was she actually dreaming or hallucinating? It felt pretty real to her and she decided to think ahead, not about the past. After an hour of hard work, she finally felt clean. She stood there in her underwear. Her bra had some blood on it and she had brought only one extra.

“Thank fuck that both of them are black.” She said aloud. Then, she smiled as she remembered that it didn’t matter anymore.

She swapped the old, bloody bra for the clean one and started going through her change of clothes. Her options were limited, so she would have to figure out how to clean them. She could probably find more as she goes along, but she had to find a place to settle at before she acquires more baggage. She decided to wear her army style, black roomy trousers, System of a Down t-shirt (she couldn’t leave it behind) and a black hoody. She wondered whether Serj Tankian had a place to hide. She wondered whether he was still alive.

Dressed for combat, she took one of her A5 format copies, a pen and sat down near her supplies. Time for inventory.

The list of food:

·         5 cans of juice – 2 grapefruit, 2 red grape, 1 orange
·         3 cans of pasta – 1 spaghetti, 2 regular
·         8 cans of meats – 3 chicken, 2 bacon, 2 turkey, 1 tuna
·         10 cans of fruit – 3 peach, 3 pineapple, 2 tomatoes, 2 *unreadable*
·         12 cans of vegetables – 12 nomnoms
·         4 cans of black beans
·         6 packs of low-sodium crackers
·         14 packets of low-sodium soup (chicken & veg)
·         3 large bags of rice & grains
·         1 kg of oatmeal
·         25 energy bars
·         8 large jars of instant coffee (thank fuck)
·         2 boxes of tea – 1 regular, 1 mint
·         5 packs of mixed nuts
·         1 jar of set honey (seriously?!)
·         1 kg of salt (need an explanation)
·         1 kg of sugar (need way more)
·         3 packets of mixed spices (hell yeah!)

She stared at the list. Something’s wrong. No, she was not talking about the fact that she had more coffee than meat, or that she had taken a whole kilogram of slat with her. Something very important was missing. She gasped. Where was her rice pudding?! She had had at least 5 cans. She wiped away a tear. Someone will pay, she thought.

She was in no mood to continue going through the supplies. She hadn’t had anything to eat yet and all that food was making her tummy rumble.
She took an energy bar, a handful of the nuts and washed it all down with two mouthfuls of water. She had to be very cautious, as she was unsure about the world outside the small room. She would eat as little as possible until she figured things out.

She went over to the pet carrier and opened the little doors when she noticed both of her babies were there to greet her. Having them there would obviously complicate a lot of things, she knew. But it did not matter – they were everything to her and vice versa. She gave a drink of water from the water bottle while they took turns to explore their surrounding. She made sure they didn’t drink that much, because she couldn’t bear seeing them thirsty later on. She took their dish with some of the rat food she had taken with her and placed it near their home.

Even though it was summer, the nights tended to be cold in Ireland. The constant rain and wind didn’t help either. She had to figure out something to ensure enough warmth for her rats. She could never put them in harms way, even if it meant suffering for her.

4. ONCE ALONE ALWAYS ALONE

Darkness had a life of its own. The rush of the wind rattling the nearby trees was the only sound coming from the outside. The floor cold and lifeless, felt like the only place you could ever fall asleep. The table that used to be in the middle of the small room rested against the door and the windows were covered with the seats of the chairs that used to be positioned strategically around it.

Chloe opened her eyes and stared into nothingness as she tried to understand where she was. She noticed that she was clutching something in her hand. It took her a while to realise that it’s her army knife she had been saving for a ‘special’ occasion under her bed. The world seemed to be turned upside down. Her head was reeling as she tried to remember what had happened.

She touched her face and noticed that it was covered in dried blood. She looked down at her body and realised that all of her clothing was drenched in blood. She stared at herself in shock. Then she remembered. Well, only part of it. Everything after killing her own mother was a blank sheet. She felt like crying, but could not.

She took in her surroundings which caused even more confusion to her already overworked brain. There was a gun and a box full of ammo on the floor beside her. One side of the wall was covered in different types of canned foods and other useful supplies. She knew she hadn’t had that much when she was about to leave her house. Where did all of this come from? Who barricaded the door and windows?

She checked for any other life form in the room, but only saw her rat carrier in the corner of the room, covered in blankets. She rushed to it to check on her baby rats, but once she noticed that they were sleeping, she left them alone.

Only then did she notice her body ached. Every muscle felt like it was being pulled out of her warm, bloody body.

She looked at the barricades covering the door and the windows and it was clear that they had been done from inside. So she had been the one to do all of it. She sighed with relief. She understood then that after the death of her mother she had probably blacked out and had come here. But where exactly was ‘here’? She saw her name written on the wall and knew here location straight away. Her and her friends used to hang out in a little one roomed shack outside of town. This must be it. She mentally patted herself on the back for the great idea she couldn’t even remember having.

The relief of finding herself to be alone disappeared when loneliness started to overwhelm her. She was still alive, but what good would come of it? She was alone and her family was dead. She was covered in blood and she has no idea what she had to do to get all of that food. There was a lot of it, but it would only last her a few months. What would she do then? There was no one to help her. Even though she was safe for tonight, this was not an ideal place to spend the end of the world in. She couldn’t even drive a car.

The sight of the gun seemed a lot more calming right at that moment. She stared at it for almost an hour until she grabbed it. She figured out how to use it. She kissed it and placed the barrel into her mouth. Her index finger found the trigger. Her hand shook as she was readying herself for the final choice. Her final decision. Her only choice. Her fate.

From the corner of her eye she noticed the rat carrier again. They were awake. Looking straight at her. She saw her Alex zombie like face in her minds eye.

No. Not yet.

I am alive.

3. FIRST ENCOUNTER

She stood by the door, her backpack on her trembling shoulder, pet carrier in her hand. She had a pained expression on her face as she waited for her mother to come down. She understood that her mother had made her choice, but she still stood there fixed on the spot by the door. Waiting. She had been certain that she had talked some sense into her mother 45 minutes ago, but tears tried to force their way out as she realised that she had been wrong. Finally, she dropped the pact and placed her baby rats on the floor. She will try one more time. She couldn’t leave her mother behind. She had to offer her another chance.

She ran up the stairs leading to the second floor of their little rented house and went straight to Alex’s bedroom. She knocked and walked in. He was gathering his things. Just 20 minutes ago they had shared their plans and decided that they will go their separate ways to find safety. Their plan was to find a stable place and inform each other immediately. Chloe didn’t want to leave without Alex, but she knew that he is a survivor, just like her.

“Hey, there! I thought that you would’ve been gone by now. What did mom say?” He looked little surprised but not much concerned with the fact that his sister was still in the house.

“I’ve been waiting at the door for 15 minutes, hoping she will come down. I thought I could ask you to talk to her with me. I don’t want to leave her.”

“Okay, but we must be quick. She might be a bit stubborn and panicky, but she is not stupid. Even if you leave, I’m pretty sure she can survive until things are settled at your or my end. You shouldn’t feel bad about leaving her; after all she is a grown woman.”

She smiled at his reassurances, even though they changed nothing. But she was glad her brother can finally be the moral support she always had wished he would be.

They knocked on their mothers’ door, but got no response. After a while they banged at the door with their fists. The house was silent.

Chloe ran downstairs and into the kitchen. She fumbled through the little box containing spare keys on top of the microwave. Microwaves – would she ever have the chance to use one again?

She ran back up, pushed Alex out of the way and with a bit of struggle unlocked the door leading to her mothers’ bedroom.

Something was terribly wrong. She let out a little gasp as she stared at her mothers’ unmoving body. She appeared to be sleeping on her bed, but Chloe knew better. The open bottle of Chloe’s sleeping pills on the ground was the only sign that this motionless woman was not taking a nap. Also the yells and screams from the outside made the situation a lot more frightening to the young siblings in the doorway. Finally she let the tears roll down her face.

Alex was about to run to his mother before Chloe stopped him. Even from the doorway she could see that her mother was already dead.

“Don’t! It’s unsafe! What is the infection is airborne?”

“You heartless bitch! Let go of me! Mom, wake up!!”

It was like a knife was stabbed straight into her heart. She felt the knife twist as she realised that her brother might be right. It’s their mother, after all. How can she just stand there, looking?

But then, her mother twitched.

“Look she is still alive!” Alex roared while trying to pull away from his sisters’ firm grip.

“NO, SHE IS DEAD! LISTEN TO ME! DON’T APPROACH HER!”

But it was too late. Her brother bit her hand and stumbled towards his mothers twitching body. Chloe screamed out as her mother opened her eyes and bit into her brothers exposed neck. Alex tried to speak but his artery was severed and blood was pouring down his throat.

Chloe stood, rooted to the spot. She could not believe it. Both, her mother and brother were dead. Even though she was in state of shock, she knew better than to try to help Alex. He was too far gone. She tripped as she turned to leave. Quickly getting back up, she ran back down the stairs. She decided to leave straight away as she didn’t want to witness her brother facing the same fate as her poor mother.

But just as she was reaching down for her pet carrier, she heard a loud noise from upstairs and a moment later saw her mothers body roll down the stairs. Shocked, she backed away from the door to put a distance between her and the zombie as it was pulling itself off the floor.

Chloe ran down the hall and into the kitchen closing the door behind her. She opened a cupboard, placing her treasured pet rats into it, out of harms way. She looked back and noticed one of her neighbours in her backyard, taking his time to get to the glass door. He seemed normal apart from his glassy white eyes and the unnatural movements. She decided that he cannot get to her, so she has to deal with her mother first.

She bit her lip as she tried to think of her way out. She knew that she had to kill one of the zombies. And in a while, she knew, her brother would follow his zombie mother downstairs. Even though it was more logical to use the backdoor to escape, she didn’t want to leave her family in this state. She looked for a weapon to use upon her own mother in order to escape.

Holding the biggest knife she had, she stood listening to the zombies from both ends of the kitchen banging against the front and back door. She made the decision and opened the kitchen door, while quickly backed away to give room for the zombie to get inside. She clenched her teeth, as she moved closer to her slightly overweight mother’s undead body. She had no clear shot at the head, so she took the broom resting against the cupboard and rammed it against her mother’s side. The zombie lost balance and fell to the floor. Chloe placed the broom over the zombies already rising arms and saw it snapping its jaws at her. The noise will forever remain in her head ‘click click’. It was done with enough force to chip a few of her mothers’ remaining teeth. She raised the huge knife and slid it through her mothers’ eye. With a twitch, the body stopped resisting and became lifeless once again. She sat over her mothers’ limp dead body and cried.

2. TAKING CONTROL

“What the fuck?!”

Her face showed only anger and confusion. Difficult thoughts kept racing through her mind.

“Chloe, I know how this sounds, but we can’t live through your childhood fantasies. This is real life, not a book. We have to look for help. We can’t make it on our own. Honey, I know it’s difficult for you to understand that what you read can never work out in real situations. Hence the word ‘fiction’.”

Chloe Ryan. Yes, that was her name. She stared at her mother. She was very hurt and angry. Also, she felt betrayed and scared.

“Mom, listen to me! There is no help! Everyone is on their own! My plan might work, but you have to listen to me. My age means nothing. We have to consider every possibility. We can look for others later. Now it’s only us.”

“Honey, calm down. I’m your mother and I know what’s best for you. Your childish fan-“

“For fuck sake, mother. I love you. But if you don’t see sense, I will just leave on my own. Fuck the police! They even refuse to call this as it fucking is! They are ignorant. Your plan of either ‘staying at home or leaving for the station’ is fucking ridiculous and you know it. People are fucking dying and standing back up! Face the facts! We are on our own!”

She ran upstairs, rushed into her bedroom shutting the door behind her, locking it to make sure no one disturbs her. She can’t relay on anyone. Chloe loved her mother and knew that the only reason she is being this way was fear.

She took her backpack and stuffed some clean clothing inside. She made sure not to take too much and only what will be necessary. She placed her heavy belt with studs around her waist. Usually worn as an accessory, now it would be good enough as her weapon carrier. Weapons. She had none. She wished they had a gun in the house, but that was just wishful thinking. She didn’t know how to use a gun anyway, so she would have to improvise.  

She got on her stomach and reached under her bed. No one knew that she had a box of supplies there for such occasion. Nothing much, but some canned foods, bottled water, an army knife, a block of cigarettes, a flash light and a first aid kit. What was it doing under her bed, you may ask.  She had a vivid imagination and knowing it’s there helped her with her paranoia. 

She packed everything away and went straight to her pet’s cage. She owned two lovely pet rats. She adored them and would not leave them behind. She placed a small blanket into their carrier and after kissing both of their heads, placed them inside. She collected all of their supplies and stood in the middle of the room, thinking. 

She ran to her drawer and took out a scarf. She didn’t want to be recognised in case she did something illegal or got into trouble. Laws… Did they still exist?

She had laughed out loud when her brother Alex had come up with the idea of hiding in the mall throughout the whole thing. She was roaring with laughter while her mother was yelling at her. They both thought it was a brilliant idea. Chloe knew better. Did they really think that they were the only ones with that on mind?

She crept out of her room and into her mothers. She stole one of her mothers’ credit cards, just in case people still thought money was worth something. But Chloe knew that, if not already, soon enough the new currency would become security and food.

She laughed to herself. All those zombie books she had read and movies she had seen might come in handy now.

She heard a woman screaming outside. Her body shook as the awful noise pierced her eardrums. She almost tripped as she ran to close the window to shut the horror out. She hadn’t cried yet and this was not the time to start. Her face expression changed from fear and dread to determined indifference.

BANG! BANG! BANG! “LET ME IN!!!” BANG. BANG. BANG.

Sigh.

She hid her backpack and her pet carrier under the table and unlocked the door. Mother rushed in, looking around the room until her eyes settled on Chloe. She looked scared and worried, but once they made eye contact, the girl could only see love and relief in those weary eyes.

“Oh, thank God you’re here. I heard a lot of noise upstairs, then screaming from outside… I thought you left! I thought you were getting killed!” She hugged her young daughter, tears running down her scarlet, tired face.

Chloe wanted to cry with her mother, but kept her face expressionless and her tone firm.

“Mom, I am okay. But, I am leaving soon. You can either come with me or stay here and wait for help that will never arrive. I wish you would come with me, but I don’t think me dying here with you will be any help. I know this sounds heartless and cold, but I cannot relay on your lack of experience and irrational behaviour. You can’t protect us anymore. We can work together, but I refuse to follow your lead because I know that it will result in our deaths. I will find a place I can make safe. If you choose to stay behind, I promise I will look for you once a hideout is up and running. I’m taking matters in my own hands and I can’t play your little girl forever. It will be hard to leave you behind, but now it’s a game of survival. I’d rather die fighting to survive than while waiting for someone else to save me.”

“Chloe… Baby, you can’t leave… What if something happens out there?”

“Have you been listening to me? Make your choice.”

“I will go with you, but you have to promise me that we will look for help first.”

“No. Maybe we are the help. I leave in half an hour. If you are coming, then be at the door, packed, by the time I’m done. I have to tell my plan to Alex and see if he’s up for it or are we going our separate ways. Promise me that you will either come with me or Alex. You’ll be safer with one of us.”

“I’m your mother and I sa-“

“And I’m your daughter. That means fuck all when it comes to survival. Sure, maybe we will get shot just as we leave our house, but I choose that over this. I am also a human, a person with my own instincts. My knowledge and instincts overpower your mother instinct, which technically puts me in charge.”

“Get shot? Those zombie things can shoot?!” She looked sceptical, but still worried as she recognised her daughters’ authority in these matters.

“Mom, don’t be silly. They cannot use tools. I’m talking about other survivors. Panic. Sometimes you have to fear others more than the direct threat.”

“Are you saying… that we’re unsafe here? That we could get killed by… people?! Oh my God. I never thought of that…”

“That’s my point. Now I have to run a few things by Alex before I finish gathering supplies. Think about it. Mom, I love you.”

The girls’ mother stood there, crying as she watched her daughter walk away.

1. PEACE & QUIET

The sound of Amon Amarth filled the small room. Sounds from below were barely auditable as the singers voice blared through the speakers positioned on the window sill. The girl was lying on the bed rereading an autobiography by one of the greatest men to ever walk the face of earth. She was fully immersed in the stories of Charles Darwin’s childhood. It was nearing the end of summer and the 18 year old spent most of her days locked in her room, music flaring & a book in her hand. The common distraction of her age group – socialisation, was never on her mind as she read a book after a book, an article after an article of both fictional and real life.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She ignored the person behind the door as it was most likely her mother or older brother trying to impose the boring aspects of every day life.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The impatience of the person trying to get her attention irritated her. Alone time was rarely an option at her household. The only person she enjoyed spending time with was her very good friend Lizzy who spent most of her days in her house. But she was at home that day, probably entertaining herself on Facebook or YouTube.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Paranoia returned to every bone of the girls’ body as the insistent person behind the locked door kept up the noise. Paranoia often crept upon her keeping her aware of her surroundings and filling her with dread and fear. Mother said it was because of her habit of thinking. Her thoughts always gave way to the most horrible, troubling and often traumatizing scenarios imaginable.

She finally got up and unlocked the door. It was her brother. He had a smile on his face as he rushed into her private hideaway. She immediately regretted opening the door.

“What do you want?!” she asked in the most annoyed tone of voice she could gather to announce her displeasure.

“Have you been listening to the news? Or been on Facebook, YouTube or any other site?” he stared at her with a searching smile.

Her voice softened. At least he wasn’t there to cause trouble or disrupt her peace as he usually did.

“No. I’ve been reading a book. What’s up?”

“Chaos. It’s pretty awesome if you ask me. Awesome in a funny, yet bad way. Something’s up all over the world. Random attacks and deaths. Americans, like always, think it’s terrorism. Some say the world is ending, some say that the zombie apocalypse is finally upon us. You should look at the videos of the many incidents on YouTube.”

She laughed. “Anything here in Ireland? Hey, and I thought I was paranoid. Is it serious, or something like the ‘2012’?”

He laughed too. “Yeah, Belfast, Dublin, Galway and Athlone are affected as far as I know. Could be just random occurrences, but seems very unlikely. Mother seems pretty upset about it all.”

“Wait… Athlone? That’s so close. Did Nathan get the bus? Is he still coming here? I don’t want him there in case it’s actually something serious.” Her smile turned into a worried frown. Nathan was her boyfriend. He lived 30 minutes away and they met as often as possible. She didn’t love him, but they were very close. Also, the sex was great.

“Yeah. I heard he’ll be here in 15 minutes or so. He better not come back as a zombie. If he tries to eat my brain, he is finished.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“Don’t be an idiot. Zombies don’t eat the brain. First of all, the skull is in the way and they can’t use tools to crack it open and if they did eat the brains, the infection wouldn’t spread as they need them to function. But just in case, I want you to know, I’ll enjoy stabbing a knife in your eye if you get infected…  Or if you don’t. Now get the fuck out, please!”

He made a mock surprise expression as he left the room. She loved her brother and was very proud of him. But their relationship wasn’t one of the best. Only with a year and a half difference in age, they seemed worlds apart. He suffered from Asperger’s Syndrome which made it quite difficult to deal with him. The reason she was proud of him was because he was very artistic and intelligent. She often envied him, especially when she observed him getting ahead in life with less effort than she needed.

She sat on her bed fantasising as she often did about surviving a zombie apocalypse. Little did she know that during her daydream, the world around her was falling apart.