[Fiction] The Zhed Word

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Multiple installments (as in, more than just the somewhat monthly posts,)	70.0%	[ 7 ]
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Total Votes:			[ 10 ]

[InkHound]

00. Wake Up

Tara

Wake up.

Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!

It was still dark. Black painted walls, a bedroom located in basement with a towel stapled across the window. Block the light, ignore the buzzing, ignore the distant sirens blaring somewhere down the street, just several yards outside.

Go back to sleep after flipping the cellular phone open long enough to grumble a "******** off. I'm sleeping." into the speaker before flicking it shut and discarding it near the head of the bed.

Sleep is such a pleasure, so rarely is it grasped without the aid of pills. So it was natural for her to consider it a veritable joy. One she always enjoyed and made sure to revel in whenever she could manage to grasp it for any length of time.

Wake up!

The buzzing was back. It did not appear to be going away any time soon. Whoever was calling had best have a good reason. A very good reason.

"Get up and get dressed. Now." his voice was stern, serious-- above all it was unyielding. This was not something she was used to hearing, not from him. Especially not from him.

"What's going on?" blunt and to the point despite the yawn choking her voice even as she sat up, tugging her pants on while trying to balance the cellphone between ear and shoulder as she dressed.

"Put on several layers. Pack quickly!" his voice was rushed, still serious, still demanding. Through the dull static of the phone, she could hear the sounds of shuffling, packing, and frantic movements.

"Alright already, get off my a** Jason."

She was positive he'd said something caustic in return, but it was too garbled, and she was otherwise preoccupied with following his orders. The why of it escaped her, but Jason had never done or asked for anything without reason.

"Pack the first aid supplies from the kit, any blades, knives, lighters, food, and bottled water you have. But be quiet! Stay away from the windows." Jason's voice was quiet but fierce.

Tara paused, hands freezing just inside the backpack , halfway between stuffing some socks alongside shirts. He was trustworthy, but there was a point where she could remain blind and obedient for only so long without some form of resistance or retaliation on her part. Willful submission rarely suited her. Easing herself back from the bag on her bed, Tara moved slowly out of her room, not unlike someone walking through a large body of water.

"What's going on... Jason?" she murmured, voice soft with nameless wonder, for the night was beginning to feel most ominous now. Unsure as to why, Tara moved carefully through the basement and up the stairs. Stopping halfway up, she stood on the tips of her sock-covered feet to peek out the side window as she held the cellphone loosely to her ear.

Be quiet.

She'd dimly registered having heard him sigh, almost as if he'd been standing behind her, lips brushing the shell of her ear. He might have even said a phrase or two, but she did not hear him because her eyes were too busy scanning the dark street while her ears strained to pick up any sounds out of the norm. Something was not quite right, she could not put her finger on it, but she felt as if her heart was slowly being squeezed by cold, clammy hands.

Quiet as the grave.

The dogs were shifting about in their kennels upstairs and the wooden floorboards creaked and groaned the way old houses often do; but her eyes were glued to the shambling figure that materialized out of the dark to appear at the top of the street.

Jason was saying something, her heart was thudding in her chest- they needed to be quiet. Tears pricked her eyes as she gripped the slim phone a little tighter than was normal.

"Shhh..." she breathed into the device, ducking down a little more as she watched the stranger move awkwardly.

There was something wrong with the man on the street, she wasn't sure she wanted to keep watching, because if she did, she'd learn. Tears blurred her vision while her throat flexed, tightening in such a way that told her she might cry if she wasn't careful with how she behaved next. He walked with a limp, the creaking, splitting, breaking sound of bone and wet tissue was deafening despite the distance between them. The sound would've made her flinch, but she couldn't- her free hand was gripping the side of her hip, digging long nails into tender flesh. He sort of, swayed, as he walked- no, ambled, gracelessly along.

Her vision cleared and her mind told her something while she watched the stranger's upper body jerk, as if beset by seizures. Not quite seizures, but close, very close... his arms were uncontrolled, flailing and grasping at the air. His head dove this way and that, bobbing and weaving through the night like a shark, or a drunk beast scenting for something delectable. A chill cut slowly down the length of her spine the same moment her mind reiterated the previously ignored statement... The stranger's ankle was broken- and he did not bleed.

The dull white brilliance of bone winked at her. It was protruding outside of his skin yet he moved on, unhindered in his swaying, limping, and drunken gait while he searched for something. He wasn't bleeding, the dark covered many things, but lamplight spilled on and off the man's form. It showed flashes of bloodied clothing that was torn, it revealed glimpses of mangled flesh.

Tara's eyes grew watery with unshed tears, yet again, this time accompanied by vicious shakes that made it hard for her to remain in her precarious position on the tips of her toes, peeking out the side window of her house. Her breathing sounded harsh and unnecessarily loud in her ears, almost as loud as her thundering heartbeat that fluttered like a mad, trapped thing. She became aware of Jason's voice, hearing it's resonance but unable to comprehend the words, as if it were a foreign language she had never known. It sounded so loud, too loud when the stranger stopped moving.

His head snapped up and his upper body swiveled around, his face staring right where she cowered.

The breath in her body froze and turned to ice, shattering into a thousand deathly slivers that drained the blood from her face as she stared unseeingly into the man's face. She dared not move, and dared not breathe for the scant few seconds that seemed more like long-winded lifetimes that it took for the man to pass his attentions over her and to the other houses before he swiveled back around and continued on down the street. Tara didn't move from her perch for several long minutes as she continued to stare at the same spot where the man had disappeared on into the night. In the end, she sunk down slowly, ever so careful to be quiet while she forced herself to listen to the sounds of her house more carefully than before as her eyes darted frantically around the length of her basement and occasionally the top of the stairs that led up to the main part of her house.

She heard Jason a little more clearly now, and it was this time that she finally spoke to him. Unable to dredge up the slightest bit of shame when her voice came out sounding small and scared...

"Jason... the man had no eyes... he wasn't bleeding," she felt the tears in her eyes just as much as she heard them in her voice, "It- he... no. Please. Please can this be a bad dream?"

Her voice was choked, the hand not holding the phone stopped digging itself into her side to raise up and clutch at her face just as the saltwater started to spill from between her eyes. Tara couldn't feel shame at crying in front of someone, even if it was over the phone- a testament to how out-of-it she was at this precise moment. But even as her shoulders shook and her body curled in on itself; she kept quiet, trying to make as little noise and movement as possible while she wept.

The tears had dried on her face long before her near-silent sobs ceased, her mind was already accosting the bout of ridiculous emotion, forcing it to the farthest recesses of her mind as it tallied a quick list of what she needed to do right now. This very minute. Very second. Time was of the essence and it was already working against her. Tara slunk down the stairs and back to her room, avoiding the windows as she did while a small part of her attention diverted to Jason. There would be a time much later where she could fall apart, but now wasn't it.

"I'll do what I can and move to the hunting goods store down the street while it's still dark." she spoke, voice throaty, "Call the rest of the group if you haven't already, have them turn their phones on vibrate. I'll call others too..." Tara trailed off, zipping her boots up.

"Check back in with you in... two hours?" she murmured, thinking of what needed to be done, what had to be done, and where they all needed to be in two hours- somewhere safe.

Safe from them.

"Two hours, if you don't call, I will," he spoke, his voice sounding strange, "And if you don't pick up..."

Safe, such a pretty illusion- delusion.

"Assume the worst and think no more." now her voice sounded strange. It was then, that she had never suffered from so much regret, for forcing her way into a high school against her mother's wishes, for making such friends... friends that lived so god-damn far away.

[InkHound]

01. Don't Panic

Jessica

A cellphone rang while police sirens blared in the distance. Curious at the cause, Jessica rifled through her green purse that acted more like a shoulder bag than dainty, feminine reticule- pulling the phone out she flipped it open, idly glancing at the caller id before pressing it to her ear and delivering a mildly distracted greeting. She was a little bit more interested in the potential mess outside than whoever was on the other end of the phone, which was why her body drifted steadily closer to her basement window.

"Jess-"

"Jason? What's up, why are you calling so late?" she interrupted, stretching up onto her toes and leaning to the side to get a better look between the drawn blinds. Unable to get more than a few flashes of red and blue lights, she let the blinds slip back into place while she picked her way through to Catzi's side and exited their shared bedroom (Although not any longer since the other girl had managed to secure herself an apartment and had since slowly been moving her and her boyfriend Blake's things over to it.)

"Jessica, I need you to change out of the skirt and dress in layers-" her penchant for skirts didn't seem to escape anyone's notice, "-then start packing. Now."

"Are you serious? Jason what's wrong with you- are you with Blake and Catzi at David's getting drunk?" Jessica asked, making a face.

What was with him? He never sounded this serious- he almost sounded like he was angry or something. She wondered if perhaps Jason had gotten into a fight with one of their friends, or maybe Renita... lord knows that was never a pleasant conversation.

Her hand was on the handle of her front door when Jason's words entered her brain and made her freeze.

"Yes, very ******** serious Jessica! Pack your clothes, first aid kit, food, water, and any weapons. Gather your mom and Mac." he ordered, words rushed, "Stay inside, lock all the doors, turn off any lights, and stay inside." Jason sounded very emphatic about that last part, having stressed and drawn out those last three syllables considerably.

Brows drawing together and feeling oddly confused, Jessica slowly withdrew her hand from the door, turning the dead-bolt almost mechanically before flicking off the porch and hallway lights. Turning around she climbed the remaining steps and methodically turned off all the lights.

"Alright, I'm turning off the lights now," she spoke into the phone, keeping her voice low and hopefully soothing, Jason was beginning to worry her, "Now tell me what's going on-- and why I need to pack, please."

When she got to the computer room at the end of the hall, she eased the door open and clicked off the lights, nonplussed when her mother gave a small, indignant shout at the action. Since it was just her mother in the computer room then that meant Mac had already gone to bed. A familiar glass half-filled with amber liquid and ice sat perched on the side-table connected to the computer desk. Her mother did two things when she wasn't working, paying attention to Mac, or being a mum- and that was drink and play World of Warcraft. Her night-elf was mining. Jessica scoffed, walking across the small room to adjust the blinds and pull the curtains closed.

Jason's breathing sounded inordinately loud in her ear for some reason, she attributed it to his stress, anger, or both and decided to give him a moment or two to collect himself before she grew weary of it and decided to rip into him for his incomprehensible behavior. The boy was great and all, but sometimes he really tried her patience.

Closing the door quietly, Jessica headed back down the darkened hallway, one hand braced against the wall to help guide her. She took even more care when going down the stairs, having no desire to fall down them, again. Once she was back inside her room she drew the curtains on both of her windows closed and turned off the main lights while keeping a lamp on. If Jason wanted her to honestly pack, then she would need some lights on- her room was a natural disaster and she needed to see in order to efficiently navigate through and around it.

"Jason." she prompted, voice a bit strained in effort to remain calm, "Explain now, alright? Because I'm doing what you said..." she trailed off pointedly, pulling a large backpack out from between a pile of junk and her couch.

"You won't believe it, but I need you to trust me, really trust me, and believe it when I tell you, alright?" he replied, a hiss of air escaping through his phone and into hers.

God, he was... he sounded almost, scared? Worried? Paranoid? She couldn't quite pin down the exact word for the emotion he'd conveyed, but it was something that troubled him, and therefore her too. Frowning yet again, Jessica set her clothes down and cradled her phone more closely to her ear with a hand. Her attention was once again drawn by the sound of sirens, they hadn't stopped, but they sounded closer than before. Drifting back over to Catzi's side of the room she eased a curtain aside and slid a blind down with a finger as she spoke into the phone.

"Alright, I will. Now tell me what's wrong." she was no longer so concerned with why he was demanding such ridiculous things of her, instead she wanted to know what it was that was making him upset and act so abnormal.

She pressed her cellphone closer to her ear, leaning into it as she tried to see out the window and into the dark night lit only by the flashing colors from police cars and the spills of dull yellow light from the lamp-posts that lined the length of her street. It was a bit unusual that she couldn't see any policemen, just their cars at the far end of the drive about three or four houses down from hers. What she did see was two people bent over a hood of one of the police cars, shaking from side to side. What were they doing, were they having fits?

"Zombies," he said, voice hollow, "Zombies is what's wrong."

"Jason, don't be-"

They weren't having fits. Fits didn't cause screams; screams that filled your ears, crawled down through your insides to coil and then harden in the pit of your stomach. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her legs felt wobbly, threatening to crumble beneath her weight. And collapse she nearly did, because the screams had stopped.

One of the two people straightened up, tossing his head back. The figure's hands were coated with a dark and seemingly sticky liquid; that was the one thing that stood out the most. Her brown eyes refused to direct themselves to what lay on the hood of the car while the second man hovered over it, ravaging the-

No!

"How... did this happen?" Jessica questioned, voice sounding unusually high-pitched as she continued to stare, unable to rip herself away.

"No one-" he began, tired.

"I need to call catzi- she needs to know. I need to call her, need to pack, need to tell mum and Mac," she spoke over him and in a rush, eyes wide.

The man that stood upright had started to twist and jerk his head from side to side, occasionally taking a few steps in either direction. He- it, was looking for something. Or someone. Jessica stepped back and snapped the curtain firmly closed, her body had begun to shake. Overcome with a strong urge to smoke, she turned her back to the window and quickly put distance between her and them while she went back to packing with more urgency than she'd had previously.

It took her a few stumbling, verbal attempts to speak before she managed to formulate a passable sentence; "Look- I'll... I'll call you back, I need to tell my mum, and then call Catzi, and then- well, you get the point. I'll call you back." she hung up on him before he could reply. Social etiquette and hurt feelings was the last thing on her mind right now.

Half-packed and having the worst case of shakes to date, Jessica swept out of her room, grabbing her bamboo sword, and stumbled up the stairs. She kept as quite as possible, eyes darting to the window in the living room and the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. Tearing her eyes away she hurried down the hall and shut herself in the computer room with her mother.

"Mum, we need to talk, now."

"Just a minute Jess, I'm in the middle of a raid." her mother spoke absently, eyes glued to the monitor.

"Mom. Now." she intoned, stepping forward and leaning over to press a button that caused the computer to immediately start shutting down.

The elder woman's spine straightened as she swiveled around in her chair, getting up to glare properly at her offspring. Tired and slightly dulled eyes met with brown and panicked ones. Her demeanor softened to one of concern after catching the look in her daughters' eyes and the fine trembles that wracked her body.

"What is it Jess, what's wrong?" she questioned lightly, stepping forward to place a thin, warm hand on her daughter's shoulder and drawing her closer.

[InkHound]

01. Don't Panic

Jessica

"Mom... I don't know how to explain this in any other fashion- so I'm just going to say it, alright?" Jessica replied, trying her best to still her trembles.

"That's fine sweetie, just tell me what's wrong." her mother complied, rubbing her hands up and down Jessica's arms in effort to soothe her.

"We- Our..." she cursed under her breath, unable to think of a more pleasant wording than the obvious. Jessica took a few breaths, her mind already pushing her to hurry up- their was much to do and with precious little time to do it in; "Mum, we're being invaded by zombies and we need to get the hell out of here, now."

There was a silence so perfect, you could have heard a pin drop... that is, if the sound of glass breaking out on the street didn't sound so terribly loud. Breaking glass meant the zombies had moved on to pursue a livelier set of prey, broken glass implied a window had shattered, a window meant a house, a house meant people, and people meant food for zombies which made more zombies.

She needed to call Catzi and get her mom and Mac to both pack and start calling their family. Now, before the chances of themselves getting eaten alive and therefore infected grew astronomically.

"Jess?" her mother finally spoke, voice soft and muddied between thoughts of confusion and mere jest.

"This isn't a joke, believe me! I've seen them- just outside they were snacking on one of the policemen..." she paused, inhaling deeply in effort to calm her nerves, "Now they're moving on to search for more food. We need to pack, alert the rest of our family, and get out of here, our house isn't safe enough." Jessica finished, clasping her mother's shoulders firmly and giving her a slight shake for emphasis despite the trembling of her limbs.

"Don't be silly Jess, how would-"

"Mom!" she cut off, voice a deadly whisper, "I'm not joking or messing around with you! I'm being completely serious!"

At her mother's look of skeptical disbelief, Jessica decided that only one way would work to better convince her mother. Using her larger build and power against that of her petite-framed mother, Jessica pulled her to the side of the window in the computer room. Due to the abnormal behavior Jessica was exhibiting towards the older woman, she was most thankful for the gob-smacked silence as she carefully slid the curtain aside a small fraction and created a small peephole through one of the lowermost blinds. Quickly ducking her head down to scan the street lit only by the flashing blue-red of the police cars and dim yellow-glow of a stray lamp post, it took little time for Jessica to spot two of the undead lumbering around her next door neighbor's truck.

"There, take a look for yourself, no normal person would be walking around with a severed arm or broken legs without screaming, or bleeding like a stuck pig." Jessica snapped a little harsher than she'd intended while motioning for her mother to take a look. Her nerves were terribly frayed and they had a lot to do, but so little seemed to be getting done- they didn't have this kind of time to be wasting!

After a few moments of silence between them, her mother stepped back, quick to yank Jessica's hand from between the blinds while putting the curtain back in place. She was already turned around and heading for the master bedroom when she finally spoke to her daughter.

"I'll wake up Mac and call our family..." she trailed off, remembering to keep her voice down, "Start packing for us and stay away from the windows, and be careful."

"I will." Jessica replied, watching wordlessly as her mother disappeared into her and Mac's bedroom before swiftly making her way back downstairs to finish doing any and all necessary packing within the basement. She had no desire to remain downstairs for even a second longer than was absolutely required to collect the things she needed.

On her way she speed-dialed Catzi on her cellphone, mindful to keep her voice down and her eyes and ears open for signs of potential intrusion. A second thought occurred, causing her feet to take her back upstairs to the hallway where she opened the circuit-breaker box and disabled the breakers for the lights in and outside of the house. Their porch-light was motion-sensitive, they did not need it switching on when someone got too close- although it would tell them when someone was close, the light would also draw unwanted attention.

Back downstairs and within her room she continued packing while Catzi's cell continued to ring. She could hear two sets of foot steps moving about upstairs, her mother and Mac by the sounds of them. Catzi needed to pick up already, and by already she meant now. Everything Jessica believed to be vital of her things were packed, including her monster of a first aid kit. Shucking out of her clothes she changed into a set that she'd laid out beforehand- ever mindful of her increased vulnerability, which was why she didn't think that she had ever dressed so fast in her entire life.

The ringing stopped and Catzi's beautifully alive and not dead voice greeted her...

"Catzi, where are you? There's big trouble." Jessica spoke in a rush, having moved to Catzi's side of the room to quickly pack for her roommate.

"Yeah, I know, I was just about to call you, me and Blake are at Safeway, then heading to Big 5 to pick up weapons and plan our next move." Catzi spoke into the phone, mind clearly elsewhere as she talked to Blake, or ordered him was more like. It seemed that Catzi's head was in the game and it made Jess wonder what her friend's initial reaction was.

"There's Jason's Costco plan." she spoke up, not even meaning to since it looked like the other girl had everything under control.

Having gathered everything relevant to their plight in the basement, Jessica hefted her large backpack over her shoulder, grabbed Catzi's, and headed back upstairs while keeping the phone cradled between her head and left shoulder. She managed the task in silence and headed down the hallway to deposit the bags into the computer room; catching sight of her mother whispering furiously into their home phone as she opened the door and set the bags down.

"We'll see how it goes when we get to Big 5." Catzi replied, "Will you pack some of my clothes, Jess?"

"I already have," she paused, although the clothes would be useless if Catzi didn't somehow meet up with them in order to collect garments. A thought struck her as she was moving down the hall and into the master bedroom, having seen Mac head downstairs, "What about Blake's family?"

Their was a blunt silence following her question, not that Jessica noticed it much, since she was otherwise preoccupied with opening Mac's gun-safe and keeping the light of the small flashlight away from any reflective surfaces or curtained windows. The man wasn't exactly creative with the code either, it was his birthday. Once the safe was open she plucked a revolver from it's case and started loading it. By the time she had snapped the barrel back into place and jammed the gun into the front of her pants, Catzi broke the silence.

"They're dead- it's how we found out."

Jessica wanted to ask how, but decided against it, opting instead to pick up one of the 9 mm's and ejecting the clip to make sure it was loaded. After checking each one of the guns and ensuring that they were loaded, she turned around and rummaged beneath the masterbed for a suitable bag. She was not disappointed, a black duffel was found, never-mind that she'd had to empty it of sex toys first.

"I'm sorry." Jessica replied hollowly, just grateful that it wasn't her family instead. "Still, best bet for now is Costco," she spoke again, changing topics rapidly while zipping up the black duffel and turning to face Mac's pasty-white face that bore a dually scandalized and furious expression.

"Costco? Come on, you know-" Catzi started, voice quiet.

"Jason was really the only one of our group to realistically think this out, when you get to Big 5 and meet up with your family, head to Costco." Jess cut her off, surreptitiously checking Mac for any wounds, his pale continence could be due to one of two things- possible infection or merely shock of the situation. Judging that he was uninjured, she ignored his anger and handed him the Jericho 9mm and a spare magazine with a shaky hand.

"We'll see." Catzi sighed, making no promises.

Her jumpy nerves seemed to be working in her favor, Mac visibly cooled down, looking borderline sympathetic as he accepted the weapon, stuffing the magazine into his front pocket and clicking the safety off the Jericho before tucking it into the shoulder holster he was wearing. She hadn't known that he'd had a holster...

"Fine." Jessica complied, voice clipped as she bid her friend goodbye after securing a promise to call back in a few hours time.

"Your dad, brother, and your sister Kelly know," her mother announced quietly upon entering the master bedroom, "From what they said, the infection hasn't yet reached them, so they still have time to..." she trailed off.

"What about-?" Jess asked, handing her mother the Browning 9 mm and a spare clip.

"I haven't been able to get ahold of your aunt."

Jessica's throat tightened briefly at the implications. But this wasn't the time, they needed to get out of here and to someplace safe. Jason and his family would be going to Costco, Catzi and her parents, along with Blake would be going to Big 5 for now... and Donna, Wendy, Caitlin, Claire, and Tara? She inhaled deeply and held her breath for a single moment before releasing it in a whoosh.

The infection was still small, but it was here. As much as she didn't like it, Costco was really the only answer she could come up with for now. It was a good place to hole up in, but if these zombies were like Romero's... they'd start learning and would still have some baser instincts to follow that was derived from their once-upon-a-time human memories. And people flocked to Costco much like they did the mall, so eventually they'd be screwed. But for now...

"Jess?" her mother spoke up, hugging herself lightly.

"Yeah mum?" she replied, strangely pleased with Mac's continued silence and obedience, a first for him.

"Where to now?"

Her brain, which had been caught up in planning how to get them and their things into the car without attracting attention, and then driving to Costco without crashing or getting caught in a pileup (while running over any zombie in their path since it would be another zombie down and hopefully another life saved,) -came to an abrupt and gear-screeching halt. She'd never once thought that their positions would be reversed, where she would be the 'parent' and her mother the 'child'. But from the patient and vaguely hopeful expressions on both her mother's and Mac's faces, it only served to drive the point home.

Dimly she noticed that her trembles had stopped but cared little as to why, only satisfied that her physical movements would no longer be hampered by the uncontrollable shakes of her body. Glancing at the packed bags on the bed and recalling the ones she'd set down in the computer room, Jessica adjusted the duffel bag on her shoulder carefully while tucking the cellphone into her pocket and making a mental note to call every number on it once they were in the car and on their way out of here. Turning her attention back to Mac and her mother, Jessica spoke.

"We head to Costco."

[InkHound]

02. Calm Down

Jason

He needed to cool off, more importantly, restrain himself from flying off the handle and showing up at Rei's house to really give her a piece of his mind. Jason clenched his fist, flexing the muscles in his arm in futile effort to get rid of the anger plaguing him.

Turning down another darkened street he passed the shadow-drenched houses in his semi-blind state of mind. It was dark, but still early in the afternoon- he had little to no intentions to play insomniac; that would only serve for him to be dead on his feet for class in the morning. Especially when dealing with retarded classmates who nearly take your fingers off with a butcher's knife after making it perfectly clear to them that you'd be coming through their space. How could any sane person keep their cool and not verbally take that dumb b***h's head off after pulling a stupid stunt like that? Biting his tongue to prevent a fairly private verbal rant in a largely public place, Jason continued walking on.

Spotting something on the border of his peripheral vision, he froze, his form bathed in shadows while the alleyway was aglow with the poor lighting of a nearby lamp-post; Jason watched the strange scene unfolding before him with a peculiar sense of wonder and trepidation.

Two men were just off to the side of the alley. One looked to be your standard homeless man from the top of his poorly knit, gray-wool cap, all the way down to his grubby boots, dressed in copious amounts of tape, and missing the shoe laces; either asleep or passed out (he knew nor cared just which one it might be.) And the second one- well, the second man looked to be robbing him, or, checking his pulse...?

His eyesight wasn't that great in the dark, but it looked like the second guy's hands were... covered in blood? Feeling ten times more cautious than he had been a few minutes ago, Jason glanced about his person for a weapon as possible means for protection should he require it. Sure, he could go over there and offer assistance, but what if that guy was responsible for the state the homeless person was in? He'd be walking into more than just a small mess-- he'd be getting himself right in the middle of a homicide.

Blue eyes spotted a discarded aluminum baseball bat sticking out the top of an open trash-can. Shifting to the side a little bit, Jason started to slowly lift a hand to grip the handle and remove it as noiselessly as possible-

"Hello? Anyone help! This guy is bleeding and he- he stopped breathing! I need help!" the man shouted into the night air, hands held firmly over the other's throat. "Stupid! So ******** stupid for leaving my phone back in the car!" he continued on in a quieter voice, cursing to himself.

Forgoing the weapon and discarding the 'this-man-is-likely-responsible-for-the-state-of-the-beggar' mentality; Jason stepped from the shadows while pulling his cellphone out of his jeans pocket. A chill draft assailed him, plucking at strands of his hair, and passing through his long-sleeved shirt and jeans. It had done so the very moment he'd taken those first few steps into the pale glow of the light, almost as if it were... nah.

"I got a cell, I'll call an ambulance-" Jason spoke by way of self-introduction, waving the aforementioned device briefly to further prove the truth of his words. Flipping the phone open he then promptly dialed 9-1-1, hitting the send key as he lifted the phone up to his ear...

"Oh thank god, I was worried that I'd be left all alone to do-" the man stopped talking only to start making gurgling, strangled noises that sounded entirely too familiar for some reason. But strangely enough, he couldn't quite place it.

Lifting his gaze up and onto the two strangers several feet in front of him, Jason noticed two things immediately before anything else; the first being that he'd stopped walking towards the pair, and the second was that the man who had been trying to help the vagrant had one arm outstretched towards him, wordlessly asking for help. Distantly, he realized that he had dropped his cellphone, causing it to click-clatter against the fragmented asphalt. But that was little important right now since the homeless man was very much alive. Alive and ravenously hungry to the point where he'd resorted to cannibalism against his fellow man.

Wait-!

His brain rapidly unhinged itself from the train tracks of sanity to pull off a double-take of the situation. He reached one startling conclusion in quick succession... [********]! From what he could see (glaringly obvious and acute his vision was at this exact moment,) was the vagrant tearing into that guy's throat like it was Thanksgiving and he hadn't eaten anything in a straight week!

Rearing back as if he'd been physically struck, Jason tried not to trip over his own two feet while he stumbled backwards hastily. Eyes glued to the gruesome sight of one stranger feeding on another, Jason remained unaware of nearly everything else, let alone pulling the aluminum baseball bat from the trash-- that is, until he'd actually taken a step forward and had the damned thing raised and ready to strike. Far from even thinking about questioning the entire situation, Jason took the few remaining steps forward, raised the aluminum bat a touch higher- and brought it crashing down.

On the back of an unprotected skull.

The previous owners of this bat had seen fit to throw it away because it had a sizable dent and curve towards the end of it that would render it practically useless when playing baseball. However, it suited his needs perfectly- who knew that an aluminum baseball bat that was curved and dented at just the right angle (that anyone would likely get if aforementioned end of the bat was run-over accidentally by a car backing out of a cluttered driveway,) would crack a man's skull and fracture their neck (he'd heard the crunch and snap,) forcing it down to the ground, and stuff the zombie's mouth full of flesh, blood, tissue, and muscle to the point where they then actually choked. Jason caught himself smirking at the sight, did you ever see the zombies choking on their food in the movies? No, you didn't, but that could be due to the fact that in the movies, they didn't have the survivors more or less cramming food down their throats.

A giggle followed shortly after as he watched the zombie (and that's what the homeless man was, little denying it at this point,) refrain from eating more of the corpse. It's head slowly craned back, and back, and back until the bones creaked and their eyes met. The humor left him in a rush, replaced with the sharp, freezing cold of the grave that coated his spine and raised the hairs on the back of his neck, arms, and legs.

Bloodshot eyes that might have once been brown, were fogged over with a light, opaque glaze that bore a slight rust-colored tinge. They were cloudy and swirling between spoilt milk, watered down blood, and the rust of iron. Sightless, the eyes of the rotted blind, yet they focused on him with such a fierce intensity that it stole the breath from his lightly trembling body. But the strangest thing of all, discounting their odd color, sharp focus, and apparent insatiable hunger for the living flesh... they were empty.

Breaking from the study of the creature's eyes, Jason watched with idle fascination as a grubby, gloved hand lightly batted at the bottom edge of his jeans. The fingers were twitching, but appeared unable to grab and hold onto him. It meant that they were either very fresh, or just slow, delayed even. But what kind of zombies would they grow to be; slowly intelligent, shamblers, or runners? And their would be more of them, there always was, speaking of which...

Jason glanced up while pointedly disregarding the appendage swiping at his pant-leg; looking down the alley to check for more as he tightened his grip on the bat. It looked pretty empty, no soul or undead creature in sight, pivoting to glance back behind him, Jason jumped, the hand that had been pawing at his jeans so harmlessly before, now had a firm grip on his ankle and was trying to pull him closer. But that was not entirely what had given him a shock, it was also due to the fact that one of the undead was three inches from his throat and leaning in, dark-stained mouth agape and arms held open wide on either side to enclose him in a bear-hug that would surely spell his doom.

Later, he would realize that it was the eyes, those glassy, hungry, and thoroughly empty eyes that sent him into action.

With the devil in front and a devil behind, Jason did the first thing that came to mind- he stepped further into the zombie's open embrace and thrust the fingers of his free hand into the open wound on the creature's neck while raising the bat up and jamming it into the open mouth to temporarily gag it so he could keep digging. Wedging agile fingers deep into the sticky, tender, and slightly springy tendons, muscles and veins, Jason did his best to ignore the frightening feel of being trapped within the arms of zombie trying to chew through and alternately around the temporary gag to get at him.

Blood did not flow in rivers, nor did it coat his hand in it's bright and cheery color of fire engine red; it instead clung in moist, thick chunks all the way up to his knuckles which reminded him of something that it never, ever should. When you're digging into a zombie's gaping hole of a throat, you shouldn't ever be reminded of this one time spent with a girl, fooling around at a party and how she-

Found it! Right on time too, judging by the vague moans that were only growing louder as his grip on the bat grew weaker while the deathly cold arms around him became stronger... With his left hand firmly gripping the bone and spinal chord, his right reaffirmed its grip on the bat. Pulling it back just the slightest fraction, he rammed it forward and further into the open mouth the same time he yanked his left hand back. Having dually felt and heard the snap, Jason retracted his hand and stepped off to the left and back (not having forgotten the undead just behind him,) and gave the now boneless zombie another shove, sending it crashing to the ground below. Wasting no time for contemplation, Jason moved to the head of the felled zombie, raising his weapon up to bring it whistling down upon the creature's face.

He jerked his head to the side, clenched his teeth, and closed his eyes to avoid the small spray of stale, half-coagulated blood and gray matter. The last thing he wanted was to be infected. Checking to make sure the zombie was fully dead, he scanned the full perimeter to ensure his temporary safety before returning to the zombie on the ground, trapped beneath the dead body he'd ensured would remain dead. Bringing the bat up once more, he did not hesitate to bring it back to earth, to first hit the tender skull of the moaning and groaning zombie.

Heart thudding against the cage of his ribs, Jason walked shakily to the wall of a house and put his back to it, slumping backwards, hands braced on his trembling knees he fought to catch his breath. It was a little more difficult than usual because he refused to let his head fall down lest another zombie get the jump on him.

Feeling like s**t, yet bizarrely exhilarated, he urged his body back into an upright position, leaving the false-safety of the shadows to stumble a few steps forward and collect his fallen cell phone after rubbing most of the muck off of his left hand. Out of habit he checked the time briefly before yanking his head back up to check his surroundings.

Nothing.

It was a little after seven in the evening and not even a house-light had clicked on in the time he'd bashed three skulls in. Why the ******** was that? He was in an alley, with an aluminum baseball bat for ******** sake! Noise carried! What the hell? Jason was sorely tempted to scream to high hell at the top of his lungs to alert every single dumb-a** in the neighborhood of what had just happened right under their noses!

Taking several deep breaths, Jason regained a measure of calm. He needed to get home, tell his folks what the ******** was going on, call his friends, do some well-intentioned B&E, then book it to Costco while taking out as many of the undead as he could along the way. If all of the zombies were anything like the two he'd just dealt with, then that meant easy pickings- for the time being. He hadn't seen any on his brief, impromptu walk, so there couldn't be too many of them just yet. But it was only a matter of time, it always was.

Not wanting to be distracted on his trek back to the house, Jason stuffed his cellular phone into his jeans pocket and started back. Both of his hands firmly grasped the handle of the bat, he had every intention to take out any and every zombie he could without deviating from his path back home. One more zombie killed meant one more potential life saved, and they needed all the survivors they could get, even if they were illegal aliens.

Keeping as much to the shadows as he could, Jason was little able to prevent his mind from wondering a bit from the task at hand. Had he committed murder, that is, killing the man that had been attacked? He didn't really believe so, he had stopped moving and clawing at the air long before he'd brought the bat down onto his skull. Mutilating the dead when you're not remotely certified for the task, well that, however, was most likely illegal- a sin in some religions perhaps (who was he kidding? It was.) But did that really matter, especially if what he thought he was was seeing was in fact what he actually was witnessing? A stupid debate, considering he'd already identified them as zombies.

On his way back to the house, he'd killed three and a half more zombies. The 'and a half' was a small child about six, maybe seven years old. Jason supposed that ethically, he should feel bad, or even remorseful over killing a child- zombie or not. But he couldn't dredge up the necessary feelings within him to do so, after all, it had been the same little s**t he'd encountered in the grocery store a few days prior. The brat had been screaming and hollering at the top of his lungs and yanking all kinds of food off the shelves- the little b*****d had thrown three cans of condensed, condensed, soup at him. Two of which, had struck him in the shin and right knee- he'd grabbed the kid by the hair and had been seconds away from not only verbally, but physically assaulting the hellion to within an inch of his pathetic little life when his mother magically appeared and chewed him out before storming off with her child. All in all, he'd felt a sick thrill in swinging a home-run into the brat's face. The bonus had been when he'd gotten to off the kid's zombie-fied mother.

Carefully checking the area around his complex and deeming it clear, Jason swiftly climbed up the stairs two at a time and let himself into the house.

[InkHound]

02. Calm Down

Jason

"Mom, Steve, Erin! Need to talk- now." Jason called as he locked the door.

Moving down the small hallway and into the living room, he was quick to pull the blinds closed on the sliding glass door to the porch and on the small window in the kitchen. He didn't have to worry about the bedrooms, the lights were off about this time of the night.

"Jason? What's wrong with you now?" his sister questioned, closing the refrigerator door and following him into the living-room out of mild curiosity.

"Is that blood I see on that bat? Is it?" came his mother's voice, sounding more than a little accusatory.

"Please don't tell me you've killed someone Jason, you're over eighteen, we can't cover for you anymore." Steve sighed from his end of the couch before changing the channel.

"What? Yes- No, wait. s**t." Ok, not the best way for him to start off, but he was feeling a bit tongue-tied, jittery, and more just a little high from his brief excursion. Carding a hand through his hair, Jason made his way back into the kitchen on wobbly legs.

"Was that a yes or a no to the 'have you killed someone,' question?" his elder sister Erin spoke from the living room, leaning over the back of the couch to watch Jason as he rifled through the pill box on top of the fridge.

"It was a-" he started, only to stop as he knocked two painkillers back- chasing it down with a gulp of water as he pocketed the rest. He hadn't been joking when he'd told people that he'd become a pill-popper if a zombie apocalypse happened. "-It was a yes, and no... kind of." he gasped, having swallowed too much water.

"How can killing someone be both a yes and a no, Jason?" his father asked slowly, turning to face the younger man even as his thumb clicked to another channel on the television.

"When the persons being killed are already dead." he answered bluntly, bracing himself lightly against the door-frame between kitchen and living-room, legs still shaky, "Look, we need to start packing. Zombies... we have zombies shambling about outside and I'm not sure how many there are. We need to get out of here, now."

There was a brief silence before his mother broke it, "Jason! How many times have I told you not to make fun of the disabled? How many?!" she demanded hotly, face drawn down into a scowl.

He started to laugh then, unfortunately his laughter bordered more closely on sad and slightly hysterical instead of outright hilarity. Just as the remainder of his chuckles began to successfully die off, the voices on the television filled the room.

Jason didn't actually catch any of it, too busy caught up in the mental catalogue of 's**t I need to do thanks to zombie invasion,' while simultaneously watching his families reaction to not one, but several (Steve clicked back and forth, checking for validity by comparison,) of the prominent news channels reports of zombie sightings and attacks. Well if he didn't owe a favor to the media before, he most certainly did now for it to have successfully convinced and explained their current problem to his folks. Talk about convenience.

Eventually the television was clicked off and both of his parents turned around in their seats to face him, but it was his sister Erin who spoke; "So we're really doing that whole Costco plan of yours then?"

"Yes," he answered simply, "Do you all know what to pack?"

They each nodded mutely before standing and getting their things together as quietly as possible. No one much in the mood to strike up conversation, not that they were usually.

Jason exhaled briefly, taking a few precious moments to sit on the couch and flip open his cell phone once more since Erin had taken the house phone and started calling people she knew. Staring at the welcome screen, he idly studied the the pictures in each bubble that represented his 'Fave Five'. Which one did he call first?

[InkHound]

02. Calm Down

Jason

"Damnit! How will they know where to go if they keep hanging up on me?" Jason snarled, glaring at his phone.

First Jess, then Tara, and now what- Donna next? She had better not hang up if she knew what was good for her. Sure, they had talked about his Costco plan from time to time, usually after one of their parties had just finished the round of horror movies for one night. But he'd never explained much beyond the general idea and a few specifics on it. The conversations always deviated by that point, no one cared to listen by then, and it had never been worth the efforts to try. Would any of them get to Costco safely? It was something that worried him a little, which, in itself wasn't that much given the fact that the pills were kicking in. Giving him that listless, numbing sort of sensation that could very well make him sit on the couch, doing nothing for the next few hours... if he wasn't careful to keep himself busy.

Jason managed to sluggishly pull on two more shirts before speed-dialing the next person on his mental list, Donna.

The phone rang once... twice... three times...

"Pick up Donna," he mumbled, stuffing a few more items into his backpack, "Pick up your damn phone..."

Four rings... five... and when five rings turned into six...

"WHAT?!"

Quite startled by the shrill demand, Jason actually took the time to remove the cell phone from his ear to stare at the screen, checking to make sure the right number had been dialed. Or maybe to see if he had heard correctly. Not too terribly sure, but this was Donna-

"HELLO? JASON WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT? I'M BUSY." her loud, and thoroughly angry voice snapped at him. The sounds of wood splintering and glass breaking filtered through the phone, faint and a near whisper compared to the other teen's voice.

He was silent for a full ten, maybe fifteen seconds, still just staring at the phone in his hand- as if it were some sort of alien bug he knew should be squashed, but couldn't because it was so fascinating. It was an odd sort of thought, but it was one he discarded swiftly, putting the phone back up to his ear as he struggled with some sort of reply.

"Um... zombies attacking?" he managed, feeling very out-of-sorts, more-so than what the pill-induced euphoria caused, "Pack your s**t and head to Costco?" Jason added, eyebrows drawn together in confused frown.

The piercing clatter of a phone being dropped had him flinching back from the phone speaker.

She hadn't responded. From what he could hear, Donna was swearing- but her voice was soon drowned out by the sound of something going 'CRUNCH', it was vaguely familiar... However he couldn't quite place it since it sounded like a cross between accidentally stepping in fresh roadkill and tenderizing meat. After a moment or two, there was a distinctive silence on the other end; a tendril of worry began to uncurl within his belly, only to have it eased when harsh breathing filtered through the phone as Donna (hopefully it was her,) picked up the phone.

"Yeah. I know, working on it." she finally replied, gulping in some air, "Is that it?"

He wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Are you alright?" was what came out while he sat, somewhat dumbly on his couch, caught between packing and mild befuddlement.

"Of course," Donna snapped, obviously, "I don't think I would've picked up the phone otherwise."

"Right." Jason returned, trying to mentally catch up with all the information his brain was sending him.

"Right." she echoed, "Pack s**t, head to Costco. Call others." Donna reiterated, loudly.

He blinked rapidly and stopped packing.

"We good now? You catching up, Jason?" she demanded, half exasperated, half annoyed.

"Uh-yes. Yes. Yeah, call back in a few hours, okay?" he responded, giving himself a shake.

"Sounds good, see ya."

The phone disconnected and Jason felt as if he were momentarily adrift in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. It was a slightly daunting, sort of sensation. One that he was swift to dispel from his person; he needed to focus, and he needed to get the hell out of here. Needed to finish packing, get to the cars, take out as many zombies as they could while making certain pit-stops to collect weapons, then head to Costco, fortify, and hole up to work on the steps from there... Did he call everyone?

Pulling the zipper to his backpack closed with partially numb fingers, Jason flipped his phone open once more and quickly skimmed through the numbers he recently dialed. He'd called Jess, and by default, Catzi and Blake as well since the girls were still sharing a room at Jessica's- and Blake by association as Catzi's boyfriend. And then he'd called Tara (in which he'd gotten more than just a little worried since the call hadn't went as well as he would've preferred. That and the fact that she lived farther north Everett than the rest of their group.) Jason frowned; chances of Tara getting down to Costco weren't good.

"Jason- we're almost done, just need to load the cars and grab our animals," the voice of his father spoke, cutting through his thoughts, "Was it still safe enough outside when you came in half an hour ago?"

He snapped the phone shut and shoved it deep into his jeans left pocket.

"Their were some shamblers," Jason replied, "But I took care of the ones around our apartment, we should be alright, but still..." he trailed off pointedly.

"Be safe." the older man finished absently, nodding once as he disappeared down a cluttered hallway.

Retying the laces on his boots, Jason slowly returned to his prior train of thought; before the slow derailment... He'd called Jessica, therefore Catzi and Blake, then Tara, and finally Donna. Then he'd phoned the people he'd intended to. But did he need to call anyone else- like Claire, Caitlin, and her boyfriend Lex? Or Michelle, David, and his fiance Amy? His brow drew together into a cross of emotion, caught halfway between the beginnings of a scowl and that of mild bemusement. Jason stared blankly at the empty hand that had held his cell phone only moments before.

Blue eyes dimmed slightly as his thoughts turned inward, reflective. They snapped back to the vibrancy of the present almost as soon as they'd first dimmed. A scoff escaped him while his lip curled upwards in the vaguest resemblance of a smirk.

"******** 'em."

[InkHound]

03. Don't Run

Donna

Why did Jason always have to call at the worst possible times? Was it his way of getting back at her for harping on him all the time about being a bigoted, racist a*****e despite it being perfectly warranted? It was because she was always yelling at him, wasn't it? They had never really gotten along peaceably, and after five plus years- they were pretty much just starting to. Perhaps to get even for all of those death threats she'd delivered when he'd dated Renita and effectively destroyed their friendship by having sex with her- therefore introducing Rei to her newfound friend, the v****a?

The mental picture of that last thought made Donna cringe.

Either that or it was the act of removing Todd's axe from her next-door neighbors zombified skull that she'd split. After-all, bits of gooey brain matter and partially coagulated blood leaking from every possible facial orifice did not, a pretty picture, make.


"STEVEN!" she whisper-yelled, or tried to.


"What b***h? God! I've got my own zombie to deal with!" her brother shouted back from his room.


"Oh please! You barely had a zombie to deal with!" Donna scoffed, jerking the curtains closed, giving the darkening street a cursory glance before heading back towards her moronic brother.


"What is that supposed to mean?!" Steven demanded, giving the still corpse at his feet another kick in his anger.


"It means the only thing you had to worry about was it gnawing on your toes after I severed its spine for you, that's what!" she spat, motioning towards the sizable gash in the ex-zombie's lower back.


"That don't mean s**t, n***a!" he scoffed, "She was still a highly dangerous threat!"


Donna cringed at his deplorable use of foul language. When was her dumbass younger brother going to learn that he was neither black nor a ghetto gangster? He was just so... so... so dumb! With an irritated glare and an obvious scowl, she turned away from him to go shut and lock the front door that they'd left open when the zombie attack went down.

"Whatever Steven! Just go pack some s**t while I call mom." and everyone else.

"Fine! But hurry up so I can call Randy!" he snapped, kicking the dead corpse out of his room so he could shut the door and round up his belongings that were strewn all about the floor.

"Stupid idiot brother." Donna muttered, walking around the ruined couch to collect the phone. If the zombie-apocalypse didn't grab the entirety of mom and Todd's attention- they were going to be royally pissed about the couch.

She dialed the number and hoped her mom was safe.

[InkHound]

03. Don't Run

Donna

Her mom was safe, despite being trapped in Seattle for the time being; apparently with news of the zombie infestation spreading across the globe, traffic was even more horrific than usual. But thankfully, Todd had gotten wind of the infestation earlier, ditched his most recent construction job so he could make it to his fiancé's side and not have to worry about her safety from a distance... So they were currently holed up at her mother's work, regrouping until they could find a way to get out of Seattle and back to Everett. When she'd bid her mother goodbye, she'd heard their squabbling in the background of whether or not Todd would be leaving his motorcycle behind in favor of the SUV.

The banality of it had eased some of Donna's fears concerning her mom and Todd. But even still, she worried.

Opening her brother's bedroom door, she tossed the phone onto his bed before heading to the basement where her own room was located. Going through the living room, Donna stopped long enough to snap all the lights off and drag each and every pair of curtains closed, keeping a sharp eye on the houses and any signs of movement. She stopped by the remains of her couch long enough to pick up her blood-stained bag, dump out it's contents, slip her wallet into her back pocket (it's use and value would doubtlessly be rendered useless in a few weeks time, but it never hurt to be prepared,) and then picked up her cell phone.

Keeping her head down, Donna slunk past the back door and set of windows that possessed no curtains or blinds as she started down the basement steps. She was already speed-dialing Caitlin before she'd gotten off the last step; now a little more mindful to keep her voice down, and her message short- Donna started informing one of her old, and dearest friends the very moment the phone stopped ringing and Caitlin's quiet voice filtered through the speaker.

Like her, Caitlin had taken the news surprisingly well, had even made a joke about how Lex would never let her live this down. Because one of his many government conspiracy theories had finally been 'proved' right. It had made a burst of surprise laughter spring from her lips before Donna clapped a hand over her mouth, frozen, waiting... listening. She didn't hear anything- which was the problem.

No sound.

The outside world was deathly silent, not even an annoying twitter of a bird or the dumb barking from one of the neighbor's ill-kept and poorly treated dogs. It was as if everyone and every thing was dead. But that wasn't right, not at all- there should have been something, anything going on. With news of the zombie up-rise spreading across the states like wildfire, their should have been hundreds of people littering the streets, luggage strewn about, glass broken, sirens blaring, cars honking, screams ringing through the air, and so much more chaos that was what became of large groups of panicked people-

But there was none, just silence.

The sensation was cold upon her body, frightening to her mind, and desperately terrifying for the rest of her. Donna had been cool at first, but now, with this stark absence of what should have been...

A long, ill-suffering sigh left her body as she shakily made her way through the mess of her basement and into her room to plop heavily upon her bed. She stared listlessly at the dirty floor of her bedroom for several long and eerily silent minutes.

Even her rats were still.

A distracted glance up and pale blue eyes caught on the shivering forms of her three pet rats huddled together beneath a chewed up box of cardboard that acted as one of their many play-spots. They made a very sad and pathetic sight. Much like the sight she'd make if she continued to sit hear and let her fears consume her.

The shrill, droning beep turned her head back down to her lap where she held her cell phone as it continued to demand for it to be hung up. Donna snapped it shut and pocketed it; Caitlin would call Lex, if he hadn't already been there with her... she'd forgotten to ask.

"Time to pack." she told herself, standing up.

Turning around to check that the curtain on her window was in place, Donna swiftly pinned her heaviest blanket over it, closed her door, and stuffed some pillows along the bottom before turning her lights on. She had to be quick and she had to be quiet. Only the essentials could be brought, anything else was too big of a risk. Far too big of a risk. The zombies she and her brother had dealt with a short while ago hadn't been that hard to handle, but Donna knew better. The undead came in large numbers, and over time, they got better at what they did. She had no delusions about the fact that these zombies would be getting 'better', this was a nightmare come to life and no matter what could be done about it, the zombie infestation could never be easily destroyed.

She nearly cried at having to leave her Wii and Xbox 360 behind. And her Super Smash Brothers Brawl...

Jaw set, she resolutely turned her back on the precious games that had seen much love and much play. She did, however pack her ball-joint-doll, Topher; he, along with her Nintendo DS, was one of the few luxuries she was unwilling to part with. They were small, and they'd be safely packed away within her clothes and supplies.

Should she bring her rats? No question, her four cats would be coming and her slew of fish would be left behind... but her three tiny loves?

The door to her room groaned, creaking slowly against the pressure.

How had they gotten in? The basement door was blocked off by boxes full of junk and a collection of Todd's power tools- no way could shamblers get through that. She hadn't even heard any glass breaking.

The metal doorknob was twisted, a single 'click' was heard as the door was slowly pushed open...

s**t! Where was the axe? She'd left it upstairs! Damnit! Damnit damnit damnit!! With her heart racing and eyes wide- Donna grabbed the first thing her small, sweat-drenched hand fell upon and raised it high to strike as soon as the figure slipped inside her room.

Her abrupt fright turned swiftly into anger.

"Damnit Randy! Don't DO THAT!" She snapped, voice shrill, forgetting herself in her panic-induced anger.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't knock, but I was trying to keep it down." Randy murmured softly, but pointedly. He was her brother's best friend and by default, another individual adopted into their small family.

Donna glared at him for the comment but otherwise kept her mouth shut.

"How did you get here? I thought Steven was going to call you at your work?" she asked, switching topics while turning back to packing the bare essentials now that Topher and her DS were packed away.

"I left work early after some freaky s**t went down, so I was on my way back here when I got his call-" he answered, pausing briefly so as to help her stuff a few more shirts and pants into the luggage, "I ran over a few of the zombies on the drive over, but I think we'd all better hurry and get out of here if the movies were right."

"What do you mean?" Donna questioned slowly, dragging her eyes up to his hazel ones.

Here, he tensed, as if expecting to be hit for his next reply- and with her, you wouldn't be far off the mark.

"Randy?" she prompted, hunching forward to shove her suitcase closed to zip.

"I said I ran over a few," he answered sheepishly, "Not all."

"So you ran over a few of the living dead, but not all," Donna summarized, eyes narrowed, voice biting, "Therefore attracting attention and drawing them to this house."

The younger teen winced and scratched the back of his head.

"It sounds a lot worse when you put it like that." he muttered, repentant.

"Because it is that much worse!" Donna hissed, stuffing a few more things into a duffle bag. Swiftly she headed over to the rat cages and flipped all the latches open, plunging her hand inside she made some quick adjustments to the interior and withdrew before standing up and heading back towards her things.

The decision had been taken out of her hands. She didn't have time to bring her beloved little rats with her. Rounding up all their necessities would suck up too much time that they hadn't had in the first place. All that she could do was leave their cages open and make it easier for them to come and go. It wasn't something Donna wanted to do, and doing it made her heart ache, but in the end, they would be fine. Zombies snacked on humans, not animals, and her babies were rats, they would survive if they felt like it.

"You better be packed Randy, and my cats had best be in the car already." Donna snarled, throwing her duffle at him while she manhandled her single piece of luggage.

"My stuff and Steven's is taken care of, Sam and Dean are already in the car, and Steven was hauling Donnie out when I came down." he answered, swinging the duffle over one arm and taking the purple monstrosity from her and lifting it up into his arms to follow Donna up and out of the basement.

"And Duchess?" their black and white, silk-furred, and only female cat.

"We couldn't find her. Steven said she was outside a few hours ago."

"If we don't see her on the way to the car, we're leaving her." Donna ordered.

She didn't like the fact that she'd doubtlessly be leaving one of her cats behind. But then again, Duchess was a b***h and they didn't have the time to go search for her.

"Hurry it the ******** up! I see a few coming this way down the street!" Steven hollered from beside the huge, four-door crimson-colored truck that Randy owned.

"What about the car?" Donna snapped, picking up her axe on the way out the back door.

"It's a piece of s**t and trapped behind the Honda, we're taking my truck." Randy replied, picking up the pace to get everything put away and his a** in the driver's seat.

"Fine! But we're going to Costco," she hissed, shoving her brother away from the passenger door and towards the back and ignoring his protests, "Or I'll kill you."

"Fine, just buckle up already so we can get out of here." Randy hastily agreed, eyes pinned to the rearview mirror as he revved the engine.

No one was sure if the threat was hollow, and no one wanted to find out at the moment. So after back-ending a dead women in a pink jogger's outfit, they headed to Costco.

[InkHound]

04. Eyes on the Road

Catzi & Blake

"Hit it! Blake! For gods sakes- hit the damn thing!" Catzi shrieked, one hand gripping the car door while the other clutched a baseball bat that she'd snitched from someone's yard.

"No." Blake intoned, voice quiet but carrying an edge, "It'll ruin the car."

Catzi grit her teeth and wondered why she was still in a relationship with this man. He knew she was deathly afraid of zombies, he knew she didn't want to be near any of them if she could help it. But that was the problem, he knew these things but refused to do anything as he still calmly drove at the stupid city speed limit on their way to Big 5. All the while, zombies were milling about on the streets!

The least he could do was speed up a little and clip one of them!

"Fine." Catzi hissed through clenched teeth, "If you're not going to run them over- at least go faster so that you don't give them the opportunity to jump on the car!"

Her eyes remained glued to a nearby zombie. It appeared to have once been one of those bratty mexican kids that were always shrieking at the top of their lungs, back at her, Blake, and Kevin's old apartment. His death had been one of vicious disembowelment... If the gaping wound on his torso, with thick, fatty cords of intestine hanging out of it- was anything to go by. She fleetingly wondered how the zombie-child had managed to drift so far from its home. Not that it mattered in the end, because they wouldn't be going back since the apartments were likely just a cesspool of zombies waiting to happen. She didn't know if any of the tenants had already been bitten, people tended to lie anyway and Catzi wasn't willing to risk everything on her ability to read people. Not when it came to zombies. Never, when it came to zombies.

"No," Blake returned, echoing his previous sentiment, "We might get into an accident, or, get a speeding ticket; I'm not going to risk it."

She wanted to stab him. Or at the very least stare at him, mouth agape for a few minutes. But a shambler had come up to weakly paw at the windshield of her passenger door, splattering its once clear surface with a viscous coat of partially coagulated red slime that may have once been blood... and all because her beloved boyfriend stopped at the red light.

"Blake." she murmured, sucking air through her clenched teeth as her body drew into tight coil of tension; "There are no cops. There are no cars. No one is around. But there is a member of the walking dead outside my car door. And so help me- if you don't run that red light... I will kill you."

Turning his head from the road, Blake allowed his gaze to slide toward Catzi's, gauging how serious her threat was. After several moments of quiet study (broken only by the occasional thumps of the zombie smacking against the window with its few, wheezing moans,) he turned his attentions back to the road.

A second later Blake took his foot off the break and hit the gas, running what remained of the red light.

Slowly easing out of both her tense posture and mild glare, Catzi cast her eyes over their surroundings. He was only going fifteen over the speed limit, but she was taking what little she could get right now.

They had passed several zombies wandering listlessly about- but neither of them had yet to see any one else. No living persons. How odd was that? There should have been people screaming and panicking in the streets; there should've been dozens of cars choking up the roads, some abandoned, some crashed, and some with there car-horns blaring. And yet . . . Aside from the few undead bumbling about, the roads were virtually empty, the sidewalks mysteriously bare, and the carnage that a zombie infection would create... was missing. It was bizarre. Even the houses they'd passed had looked undisturbed.

Where was everyone? How were people getting infected and still not causing havoc in the streets? Why the hell was everything so quiet? By default, zombie apocalypses were bad, but the dead quiet she was experiencing- even worse.

"Strange," Blake spoke up, "I wonder where everyone is?" he finished, echoing her thoughts.

"I don't know, Blake- but it's seriously starting to wig me out." Catzi replied, folding her arms across her chest in effort to ward off the chill.

"Weird." he sighed, turning the car into the parking lot of Big 5.

Blake killed the lights as he drew into a spot closest to the store itself. It was as he was beginning to shift the gears that Blake became aware of his girlfriend's pointed stare.

"What?" he questioned, exasperated.

Her silence and a continued, steady look was all he received in response.

With a slight, whining grumble and a mumbled complain beneath his breath; Blake spun the wheel and turned the car, driving up as close to the sporting goods store as possible without riding up onto the curb before putting the car in park.

After a moment of silence and a minute or two spent looking around for zombies, Blake turned towards Catzi.

"So how are we going to do this without making noise?" he asked, gesturing to the locked building.

"Not possible," she answered, unhooking her seat-belt, "Which is why we're going to do it anyway- but fast."

"Fast." he echoed, undoing his own seat-belt as he got out of the car.

"Yeah, like when I break the glass door, the alarm goes off- and we slip in... we grab a shopping cart and run like hell to get the s**t on our list," here she paused to pull out the baseball bat from the back-seat, "We run the hell back out, toss the stuff in the back, and then get out of here as fast as we can."

"Running? I didn't sign up for running. So I'll just-"

"Well I didn't sign up for a goddamned zombie invasion Blake!" she snapped, cutting him off, "We, are going to be running-- whether we like it or not!" Catzi ordered, placing heavy emphasis on 'we'.

In response, he was glaring, but silent; and Catzi noticed that he was gearing himself up for a good sulk. She wondered what the hell was wrong with him- that he could still be this selfish and ornery after discovering that his parents were both zombies... Was it not real to him or something?

"Right." she breathed, dispelling the frivolous thoughts.

Blake was rifling through his pockets, fishing for his cigarettes and giving her the silent treatment; that Catzi really couldn't make herself give a s**t right now as she was preparing to break down the front door to Big 5. Or more like break the glass so she could reach in and unlock the door to make entry and exit that much quicker.

Widening her stance and performing a few practice swings- Catzi looked around one more time for zombies. Satisfied with the emptiness she turned her gaze forward, lifted a hand to shove the bulk of her long brown hair over a shoulder; Catzi raised the bat up and pulled it back.

Taking a deep breath, Catzi swung-- and prayed.

A horrendously loud and terrifyingly sharp CRUNCH! erupted from the point where solid wood met thick glass, echoing out into the dark of the night.

The glass didn't break.

Catzi and Blake simultaneously froze, spines going rigid, eyes darting a little too swiftly from one dark shadow to another. When the last echo drifted off into silence, Catzi's brown eyes tentatively met with Blake's.

Taking one, long final drag on his cigarette, Blake tossed it away while taking a brief, surreptitious glance around. Sidling up towards Catzi, he held his hand out, eyes scanning the horizon; what little he could see of it.

"Give it here and hang onto my crowbar, they'll start coming... soon." Blake murmured, trading weapons.

He took neither the time nor the concentrated effort that Catzi had- merely raising the bat up high and sliding his leg back to brace himself, Blake swung with all his might at the same spot she had struck.

Glass shattered while the sounds of their vandalism bled out into the night. Most of the glass sheet remained intact, but they'd made enough of a hole for Catzi to fit her hand through...

"Careful." Blake advised, voice hushed as he watched his girlfriend ease her tiny hand through the jagged hole.

No blaring alarms had gone off; however, the entire building had lit up, several of the designated fire alarms were flashing though. Perhaps Big 5 operated on silent alarm systems? Or the speakers that issued the deafening noise were broken or damaged? The puzzling mystery of it aside, the pair dually considered this particular brand of silence a boon.

Twisting the lock with a deft flick of her wrist, Catzi quickly but carefully withdrew her pale limb to then pull the door open.

"Lets hurry the hell up-" she whispered, glancing around while slipping inside, "We don't got much time to shop."

[InkHound]

04. Eyes on the Road

Catzi & Blake

"Why aren't there any alarms going off?" Blake questioned, breaking the eery silence.

"I don't know," Catzi replied, yanking a shopping cart out of the line, "But I don't want to stick around and find out why, ok?"

Satisfied with Blake's mute acquiescence, Catzi shoved the cart forward and proceeded into the store at a steady clip that closely resembled a person power-walking. And when Blake naturally began to lag behind- a pointed glare in his direction got him grumbling under his breath as he made a half-jog, half-run to catch up. Retaining a newly developed scowl, Blake continued to keep pace with his girlfriend while letting his eyes peruse the various shelves before them. Distancing himself from the cart and Catzi, Blake drifted closer to the many aisles and displays advertising a variety of hiking, jogging, running, and whatever-else type of shoes and boots.

Not a few moments later, a good, sturdy pair of size twelve combat boots were tossed into their shopping cart along with a packet of wool socks.

Glancing at the new item, Catzi slid her eyes towards Blake who was several feet ahead of her, briskly rifling through a rack of long-sleeved, high-necked fleece jackets. Biting her tongue to withhold comment, she abandoned the cart and stomped over to the dwarf-ish aisles filled with shoes. An array of bright and dull-colored shoe boxes tumbled to the floor, falling open and spilling their contents of flimsy tissue paper and poorly made running and hiking shoes as Catzi hunted for a similar pair of boots in her size. Lacking the time to perform a more thorough search, Catzi grudgingly settled for a mean looking pair of hiking boots.

"Please grab me a fleece jacket too!" Catzi sniped, tossing the box and a similar packet of woolen socks into the cart as well before hurrying to catch up, collecting a number of batteries and one of those emergency wind-up radios that had since become more of a novelty item than a back-up necessity. Surprise of surprises there. When passing by another end-cap, she plucked a few flashlights and dumped them into the cart as well.

As Blake heaped both his and her fleece jackets into the cart (he'd grabbed duplicates; ) Catzi checked her watch, wondering how long it had been since they'd first broken into Big 5. Too long... a stray thought replied to her worried mind.

"Hurry it up Blake!" Catzi warned with a quiet hiss as she near-skated down several aisles on her shopping cart. There were no signs of life (or death,) as of yet- but it was always just a matter of time. And that was something that Catzi didn't want to stick around and wait for.

Bypassing swimming, skiing, and hockey gear (although Catzi was sorely tempted to snatch a hockey stick, in the end she felt her bat was a bit more sturdy,) they got into the camping section where their breaking-and-entering began to pick up in earnest. Thankfully Blake seemed to catch onto the fact that he was shopping (stealing,) for the two of them instead of just himself. So when he dropped an impressive, black, lightweight, weatherproof, well-insulated, and tightly bound sleeping bag into their cart devoid of its box... its twin soon followed. Cutting back on the desire to slow down and more carefully peruse her selection of zombie-survival gear, Catzi retained the quick, scan, grab, and '********' method. It guaranteed mixed results, but in the end it would save Blake and her precious minutes.

Flicking her eyes to an upturned wrist, Catzi found that they'd been in the store for close to twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes too long in her opinion.

"Blake." she called, voice hushed as she turned this way and that, craning her neck from side to side, peaking down the aisle in search of her missing boyfriend; pushing the shopping cart all the while.

"Blake!" Catzi near-yelled, her voice growing insistent as it became infected with worry and fear.

Hearing nothing and seeing even less, Cazi began to feel the fine edges of panic crawl up along her spine from the tips of her toes to the base of her skull. It felt as though a cold, clammy hand had cupped the back of her head and was slowly exuding pressure strong enough to crush it.

"Blake! This isn't funny!" she cried, knowing damn well that he didn't play practical jokes of any sort and wasn't likely to take up such spontaneous practices any time soon, if ever.

Rushing jerkily down each and every aisle at least twice in search of her black-haired and bespectacled lover; Catzi had grown half mad with fear and worry. If her hands hadn't been clutching at the handlebar of the cart in a near, paralytic death-grip she'd have abandoned it. Yet she could not manage to rip her hands from the infernal piece of plastic and metal as it seemed to be the only thing keeping her grounded, sane.

"...Blake..." Catzi whimpered, voice steadily growing fainter as the panic and fear mounted.

She had never felt such a fear- such a mind-numbing, bone-chilling, and blood-curdling desolation such as this. Finally reaching the main entrance, Catzi's turned sharply to the left, then right. Through a flurry of dark brown hair and blurred vision, she spotted a curl of smoke just outside the doors.

"Blake!" she cried, her entire world locked onto that single, trailing line of smoke.

As if a gift bestowed upon her by the Gods she worshiped, Blake appeared. Leaning to the side and having turned to face her from outside.

He'd been leaning against the wall of the building, smoking a cigarette and keeping an eye out. Upon hearing his girlfriend's borderline crazed and desperate scream for his name, he'd turned so as to show her he was indeed alive and not some undead's next meal. Then proceeded to frown at her absurd behavior. She'd doubtlessly just attracted any zombies within a ten mile radius, to them.

Having opened his mouth in preparation to tell her as much, but-

"BLAKE!" she screamed once more, releasing her grip on the cart while attempting to run forward. Catzi banged her shin and side on the cart in her rush- but that wasn't important. Not when-

[InkHound]

04. Eyes on the Road

Catzi & Blake

At Catzi's second, blood-curdling scream of his name, an abrupt chill raced up the back of his spine so fast it tore a gasp from his body even as he spun around, left arm raised. The hooked end of his crowbar collided with the head of a blonde-haired teenager in her pink short-shorts and matching tank top. A single, raspy moan was the only sound the girl emitted before crumpling to the ground in a broken pile. Swiftly looking around for others, Blake lifted the cigarette shakily to his mouth, taking another calming drag.

"Blake... did- did it touch you?" his girlfriend's small, shaky voice drifted to him. Tiny, childlike, and ghost-pale hands reached out across the dark and grabbed the sleeve of his coat.

"No, it didn't." Blake answered quietly, drawing her to his chest in a half-hug; lowering his head to place a kiss upon her brow in a rare show of affection.

"I'm fine." he murmured to her bowed head.

Body trembling, her breaths came in short, choppy exhalations as she fought to breathe though halted sobs and tears. Catzi couldn't help it, her body was so disconnected from the chaotic disarray of her mind that it was just reacting to the abrupt fall of adrenaline, shock, and fear. There was nothing she could do- or think of doing to get her body and mind back under some semblance of control.

"Done shopping? We'd better go before more arrive." Blake spoke up, stepping from his girlfriend, letting his arms drop from her side. Leaving Catzi to clear her head, Blake headed back inside the building to retrieve the shopping cart. He discarded his cigarette along the way.

Remaining where he'd left her, Catzi raised trembling hands, wiping at her face while speaking quietly to herself in attempts to get back under control.

"Catzi, come on, it's time to go." Blake said, tone admonishing as well as impatient upon exiting the sporting goods store with the cart.

Checking around them once more, Blake spotted two shamblers about fifteen feet or so away from them. Their progress was slow- hindered by rigor-mortis and broken limbs. They should be done and in the car by the time they got close enough to attempt an attack. Fortunately, Catzi had not yet spotted the pair of undead; Blake intended to keep it that way until they were back on the road. She looked calm sometimes, but Catzi still flipped out when zombies made an appearance. He sincerely hoped she'd overcome this extreme case of necrophobia soon- otherwise things would serve to go even more down-hill than it already was. Though, at a remarkably faster rate.

Opening the back-seat door on the passenger side of his car, Blake started grabbing things from the cart and throwing them into the car. He didn't bother wasting time by checking on what Catzi was up to (that is, assuming she'd dare not wander farther from him or the car at the moment; ) but when a box of boots whizzed by his head and into the back-seat, he got the picture.

A not so far off, highly distinctive wheezing noise drifted to Blake's ears just on the other side of his car.

"What was that?" Catzi asked, voice oddly high.

Grabbing the last couple of items from the cart, Blake shoved them into the back-seat. A booted foot kicked the bright-red shopping cart, sending it rolling backwards and crashing into the wall of the building.

"It was nothing, get in the car." he responded, squinting his eyes to pinpoint the location of the zombies. In a few moments they'd be within spitting distance of the car.

"But Blake..."

"Get. In. The. Car. Catzi." he reiterated, slamming the back-door shut.

He pulled the passenger door open and slid in, climbing over the seat and gear-shift to get to the drivers seat. The key was in the ignition before he'd fully righted himself. Twisting the key while buckling himself in, Blake spared a glance to the shamblers who were mere inches from the side window before turning eyes near-black with frustrated anger upon his girlfriend's frozen-stiff form.

"Get in!" he snarled, reaching across the passenger seat, Blake snatched the front of Catzi's shirt and pulled.

"Hey!" she started, ducking her head to avoid smacking it on the frame of the car.

Words at this point were wasted on his girlfriend, especially when her eyes zeroed in on the walking dead that were (and had been,) pawing ineffectually on the driver's side window. Reaching across her, Blake yanked the door shut. He then slid Catzi's seat-belt on for her since she was too busy wallowing in her shock and terror-stricken fear to do it herself. This phobia of hers was getting on Blake's nerves a lot quicker than he'd initially thought. When the belt clicked into place, he turned back to face the front, switched gears, then hit the gas- leaving some dust and disappointed zombies in his wake.

Blake did not like the way things were turning up.