You can't call them Zombies!

Getting up the courage to stand up again, Anna’s legs shook as she put weight on them. The sun had set, as she watched over Kyle. He seemed to be sleeping well enough to leave him for a bit of time. This place would do for now, but she needed weapons and started back out to the hallway.

The darkness seeped in from every corner and in the faint distance growls of the undead littered the air. She tried the light switch but it didn’t respond. Cursing to herself, she kept her hand along the wall as she shuffled further into the unknown.

Sweat sprung up on the nape of her neck as she reached the end of the wall, her hand diving into empty space. If it wasn’t for the quick reaction, she would have fallen over like a lead weight.

A low creaking sound sprung up behind her and she glanced over her shoulder, but only darkness greeted her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered and she said, “Hello?”

Her voice faded away like a breeze in a harsh wind.

Swallowing down the large lump down her throat, she moved toward the sound. Each step closer to the origin, added a weight to her chest until she felt like she would implode.

Gently pushing the door where the sound came from open, she found her uncle’s game room. A large room that was ordinarily a dining room had been turned into a single guy’s fantasy. Foosball, a couple dart boards, a pool table, and about three ancient arcade machines.

“Hello?” she questioned the darkness again and got the same response. Without anything but moonlight to guide herself by, she continued into the room. Weapons, she scanned the room and the first thing that caught her eye was a pool cue. It could work.

With the cue in hand she started toward the back of the room where lines of darts were neatly hung on the wall. She pulled them off the wall, one by one and tucked them into the waist band of her jeans. As she put the last dart into the waistband, something slammed behind her. She sprung around, cue in hand, ready to strike. The scream that grew in the pit of her stomach settled into a sigh.

The door closed behind her.

Loosening her grip on the cue stick, she moved toward the door. Kyle might be waking up, it seemed like she had been in the room for longer than she wanted to be. It had lost its attraction.

Tugging the door open, a man appeared before her.

She shrieked, swung the cue stick and it dropped with a groan. She raised the cue stick over her head ready to strike again when she saw her uncle. The bottom half of his jaw had been chewed off by those creatures. One eye was missing and blood streaked his face. He reached out for her, rotten flesh clung to his fingernails and she let him have it again across the skull. A loud snapped filled her head and the cue stick broke in half. The smaller half shooting off into the hall.

Her uncle didn’t relent; he pulled himself up, his one good eye locked on her like a hungry animal. He stepped forward as she stepped back. The remaining cue stick quivered in her hand.

She remembered better times with her uncle, but at this moment, her desire for survival superseded those. She drove the end of the cue that she held into the gap that used to be his jaw. It shot upward like cutting Jell-o with a spoon, and with a similar sound as it popped out the back of his head. He fell over with a thud, his hand twitched for a moment before falling still.

Darting out of the room, she dashed to the bedroom. Kyle remained on the bed, silent, breathing and resting. She fought the urge to wake him immediately and instead slammed the door shut behind her, cutting off any light in the room. Her ragged breathing remained the only sound as she slunk to the floor.

She couldn’t muster the strength to go out tonight and search. It was too dangerous. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hands, she crawled over to the bed and pulled a blanket over her. “Light would be good before searching again, light would be very good,” she mumbled before sleep washed over like a comforting wave.