Monday, February 22, 2010

You can't call them Zombies!

The gap between him and the undead girl closed quicker than he expected. His legs burned and had been reduced to hobbling. Before even reaching the corner, she would have overtaken him. He made an abrupt and labored dodge to the right, back toward the park. He grimaced as his knee buckled and he toppled into the grass next to the street.

Luckily for him, the woman, still obviously not able to move in quick turns ran past him. She stuttered to a stop like a car on a jagged road and turned to face him again. Her dead eyes glared at him, a hunger that couldn’t be recreated by a human, even if they were abandoned on a deserted island for months, met his.

Almost hypnotized by her gaze, the wet grass soaked into his sweatshirt sleeve, snapping him out of the daze as she rushed again. He crawled to his feet as she closed the gap once again. With his heart racing and his body giving up on him, he threw himself over the railing of a house porch. Landing on the other side, he looked between the wooden planks as she tore at him like a lunatic. The gravely growl reached him before she did, and he would come to realize that it would be that way forever now.

Oblivious to the railing, she crashed right into it, a plank shot out, hitting Kyle in the chest. She didn’t try to climb, or go two steps to the left to climb the step onto the porch, she continued to reach for him through the thin boards. Her grey hands scratching across his sweatshirt, inches from tearing the flesh off of his chin. Kyle scooted back and grabbed the thin plank of wood. A sharp nail stuck out on one end and he looked at it, then at the girl who relentlessly pushed through the railing. Another plank had come loose and she had one shoulder through the gap. Her hand grasping for him.

Kyle stood up, heaving, sweat matting his hair across his eyes, and looked down at her. Those eyes would haunt him for as long as he would live this nightmare. He raised the plank, nail point down and drove it into her skull. Hoping that his movie knowledge would prove correct. At first she continued, pushing stronger, like it ignited her fuse, then he pulled it free and drove it down twice more in quick succession. Blood oozed out of the wound and she continued to push, growling and moaning as he wailed on her.

After five swings with his makeshift weapon, it broke as the nail stuck into her skull. She slumped, her hand’s reach faltered and she collapsed to the porch. Blood didn’t run from the wound like Kyle expected. He stood against the wall of the house, his heart pounding his ribs, his side blazing and his legs quivering. Taking in a stinging breath, his knees failed him and he slid to the porch. The urge to vomit made his quiver, but he held it in.

Back at the park five more of these creatures shambled out of the darkness. They moved slower than the woman did and Kyle realized that they wouldn’t do anything until they saw him. He crawled to the door next to him and quietly reached for the door knob. Hoping to hide inside, but his heart sank as the door was locked.

“Crap.” He muttered as the undead creatures were moving toward the fire and turning their backs turning on him. He got to his feet, checked to make sure their attention was elsewhere and snuck across the porch. He made his way over the railing and fell silently into the grass. Seeing his girlfriends house so close he started toward it.

He clenched his teeth and hurried as quietly as he could across the yard. He stopped at the edge of the grass and took one glace back at the fire. The creatures were mesmerized by the sight, but the flames were dying as the bush had been reduced to only a small fire.

Taking the cue, he hurried across the street toward his girlfriend’s house. To his left he heard the shuffling of feet and his body tightened, ready to run if he heard the familiar growl, but it never came. He was thankful for the power being out tonight.

Stopping in front of his girlfriend’s house, he noticed the front door open and a bloody hand print ran across the front door. He stood looking as the blood ran down the front of the door. Whoever made that mark was fresh.

Taking a look around, Kyle made sure none of those creatures were nearby and snuck up the steps. He entered the house and a sour smell hit his nose. He covered his nose and looked up the darkened stair case. Bloody hand prints moved up the stairs in steady intervals, and he knew that was where his girlfriend’s bedroom was. He shut the door behind him and made sure to put both locks on.

Footsteps moved across the hall way above him and he had to bite his tongue not to call out. If he learned anything from his previous encounter, he didn’t need to alert them to his presence. He stood at the foot of the stairway, debating with himself on how to approach this.

What should Kyle do?

1.) Search the dark and silent first floor of the house for a weapon before heading upstairs?

2.) Forget the weapon and rush up the stairs to save his girlfriend?

3.) Call the police for help?

4.) Call out for his girlfriend to see if she’s even up there before running up the stairs?

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