by Megan Berry
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter One
I hum to myself as I walk out the front door wearing my cheerleader outfit. It’s a nice feeling to know that my parents trust me enough to leave me home alone for the weekend while they go to New York City. True, Mrs. Newman from next door is keeping an eye on me, but a girl can dream about true independence, can’t she?
My phone rings right on cue. “Hey Mom,” I say without looking at the caller ID.
“Hey Hun, how’s it going?” Mom asks, and I can hear the anxiety in her voice. It was Dad’s idea to let me stay home on my own; I know my Mom thinks sixteen is too young, but I’m practically seventeen.
“It’s going great. I’m just on my way to cheer practice.” My feet echo on the concrete as I walk along.
“I’m glad that you’re so organized,” Mom laughs into the phone. “You’re doing better than your Dad. He forgot his razor and tie at home, and I had to run out to the store extra early this morning before his meeting.”
I laugh. My Dad isn’t usually so forgetful, but this big business opportunity at his firm has given him a bad case of nerves.
“I swear, he’d forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his body,” Mom grumbles, but it’s good natured. I know she doesn’t actually mind. “…so you are getting a ride home with Abby tonight?” My Mom changes the subject fast enough to make my head spin.
“Yep, she’ll be getting done soccer at the same time I’m getting out of cheer practice.” I hold the phone with my shoulder for a minute as I grope around in my bag to make sure I have my water bottle. I feel its shape in the bag and grab the phone again with my hand.
“Good, I don’t like you walking home after dark,” Mom says, and I sigh.
“I know,” I mutter. “But Blairsville is pretty small town, nothing exciting or bad ever happens here,” I remind her.
Now it’s Mom’s turn to sigh over the phone, “I know Hun. That was the only reason your Dad managed to convince me to let you stay home alone.”
“Mrs. Newman is checking in on me,” I remind her. Though, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen the old woman since my parents left.
“I’m glad she’s still managing to look in on you, she called me yesterday and said she was coming down with something. She sounded terrible on the phone—I’m glad it wasn’t serious.”
I make a non-committal sound in the back of my throat. “Have you been taking in the sights?” I ask to distract her.
“Yes, Dad and I went to Central Park and the Statue of Liberty yesterday. I’ve just been hanging around the hotel room so far today. I have an appointment at the spa later though.”
“That sounds great, Mom. I’m at the school now, can I call you later?” I ask, cutting her off a bit as I walk up the steps of the school.
“Sure, Jane, that sounds good. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say as I hang up. I walk into the gym, and my steps pause. There are only six girls waiting on the mats instead of the usual twenty.
“Everyone late?” I ask as I throw down my gym bag and take off my hoodie.
Mrs. Rice, our coach, motions me over to the mat with the other girls.
“Lots of the girls are out sick. Some called in, some didn’t call, but there’s apparently a bad bug going around. It sprung up quick, and it’s been hitting a lot of people.”
I shudder thinking about the flu. Regionals are coming up, and we can’t afford to have more than half our team sick right now.
“We’ll do what we can today. But, without the base of our pyramid, we are pretty limited,” Mrs. Rice says.
The rest of the girls and I nod as we begin our stretches.
We end up getting out half an hour early, there wasn’t much to do. The practice was already lagging when Kim spiced things up by throwing up all over the mat. “You girls better get out of here before you catch something,” Mrs. Rice warns us as she pulls out her phone and starts to call Kim’s parents.
I throw my hoodie on quick and run out of there as fast as I can, I hate getting sick. I jog over to the soccer field. Abby is over by the bench, chugging down some water. She walks over to me with a wave when she spots me.
“Half your team is out too?” I ask when I see she’s got a skeleton crew out on the field.
Abby nods. “Must be a bad flu,” she says.
I nod. “The worst. Kim just threw up on the mats, so we got out early,” I gossip, and Abby grimaces. “There was blood in it,” I add.
Abby puts her water bottle down with a frown, “That’s gross Jane, I didn’t need to know the details.”
I grin at her squeamishness.
“My Mom won’t be here for half an hour, do you still want a ride?”
I pull out my phone and look at the time. “I think I’ll pass,” I tell her, “I have a timer set for that new show, and I don’t want to miss it.
Abby pulls a face. “I’m jealous. I wanted to watch that show, too. I had to PVR it.”
“Sucker,” I tease her with a laugh as I give her a quick hug and start cutting across the soccer field towards home. It’s dark already, and I’m not a fan of the dark, but it’s only a ten minute walk to my house—five if I cut through the back alley. As I leave the bright lights of the stadium behind, I start to question if I should have turned down that ride.
I walk down the street that leads to the school. There is a surprisingly low number of people out and about. Saturday nights are usually pretty busy in our small town, tonight there are barely any cars in the street.
I hesitate as I reach the turn into the alley and stop to check the time again. I have ten minutes until the show starts, so I veer right and decide to take the short cut after all. The alley has always given me the creeps—not for any reason I can really pinpoint—probably just the stigma attached to alleyways and the fact that it’s full of nasty trash containers.
The shadows from the back fences are long and reaching, and the tree branches look gnarled and spooky in the dark. “Suck it up,” I mutter to myself, forcing my feet to go one in front of the other as I venture deeper into the alley.
I think it’s actually the long tunnel-like appearance that I hate, all the tall backyard fences make it seem like an inescapable rat’s maze.
My shoes crunch on the gravel, and over the noise I begin to imagine that I hear footsteps. I pause to make sure they aren’t just mine, and the footsteps continue. It’s probably just one of my neighbors, but my overactive teenage mind jumps right to serial killer, alien, or monster.
My heart is hammering in my chest, and I grope in my pocket for my phone so I can turn on the flashlight app. In my haste, I drop my phone. I cuss under my breath, annoyed with being “that” girl during a possible life or death situation.
I bend down quickly and grab the phone just as something runs into me, knocking me down. Its pitch black and I can’t even see my hand in front of my face. I let out a girly scream.
Something is moaning and groaning as it searches for me in the dark. I quickly shut my mouth, slapping a palm across my lips to help smother any more sounds that might want to escape as I silently get to my feet. I’m hit in the stomach by something, maybe an arm flailing around, and I let out a grunt o
f pain. At the same time, another groan issues from my attacker.
I give in to my instincts and run, pushing the pain down and off of my radar for now. I race down the alley, expecting something to tackle me from behind at any moment, but nothing happens. I don’t stop running until I’ve jumped the fence into my own backyard and I’m standing at the back door, hands trembling as I try to fit the key into the door.
It takes a couple tries; my anxiety builds with every missed attempt. I finally use both hands to steady myself, and then I’m in the house. I slam the door behind me and lock all the locks, including the dead bolt. Then I stand there staring through my blinds without breathing, waiting to see if something will come chasing out of the shadows.
I stand vigil at the window for half an hour, but nothing seems to follow me over the fence. I pull my phone out of my pocket and cringe. There is some kind of gross sludgy black stuff on it, probably from when I dropped it. I poke it with my finger, and it fells kind of gelatinous.
I rush into the bathroom and wash it off with a wet facecloth, then I scrub my hands. I don’t feel safe touching it again until I’ve emptied half a can of Lysol all over it.
“OMG,” I text Abby.
“What?” she replies right away, and I’m glad she’s a prompt text responder.
“Someone just tried to grab me in the alley!
“What??” is her response, and my fingers are still shaking when I text back.
“I dunno. It was weird. Some guy or something, I ran away and lost him.”
“Do you want me to get my Mom and come get you?” Abby texts back quickly, and I really think about saying yes. Every instinct is screaming at me to accept.
“No,” I text back after a minute of thinking. “If we tell our parents, I’ll never be allowed to stay home alone again!”
“True,” Abby texts back. “But do you think you’ll be okay?”
“Ya, it was probably just some drunk guy,” I reply, hoping that’s the truth.
“Okay, call me if you need me,” Abby texts back, and I send her back one of those smiley face emoji’s.
I go into the living room and turn on the TV. It’s on the news channel.
“Towns and Cities in the Midwest are reportedly becoming completely overrun…” I hear the news anchor say in his booming voice, just before I switch the channel to my show.
Thanks to my drama in the alley, the show is already half over, but I finish watching it anyway. I sit through about twenty minutes of it before the credits start to roll, and I’m actually glad when it’s over. Maybe it’s because I missed the first half, but it was starting to bore me. I flip the TV off and go into the kitchen to make myself something to eat.
I pull out my phone, remembering that I was supposed to call my Mother back. It’s almost ten, and I’m kind of surprised that she hasn’t called me yet.
I dial her cell phone number and wait, but it goes to voicemail after four rings. My parents are probably living it up in the city that never sleeps. I’m actually a little bit jealous that I didn’t go with them.
“Hey Mom, it’s me. I’m just checking in, I thought you were going to call? It’s okay, you’re on vacation. I understand. I’m going to bed now. Call me tomorrow. Night.” I hang up. My obligation to be a responsible kid is complete.
I fry up some supper, check, and double check to make sure all the doors and windows are locked, and then crawl into bed. I put my headphones in my ears, because I don’t really like the silence of an empty house, and drift off to my favorite playlist.
Chapter Two
My phone is buzzing when I wake up. It’s been making all sorts of noises for the last 20 minutes, each ring pulling me further and further from the dream I am desperate to hold onto. I groggily reach for it with a groan of annoyance.
“911!!!”
The newest text message flashes before my eyes, and I touch the screen to reveal a series of messages and missed calls from my best friend Abby. The phone begins to ring in my hand as though she has a sixth sense.
"Someone better be dead!" I snap into the phone. "You know I was up late at Cheer Regionals."
I’m not sure what kind of response I’m expecting, but I definitely don’t expect to hear the ragged sob of relief that bursts through the phone. "Thank God you’re alive!" Abby manages to get out before she starts bawling.
That cuts my tirade short. "What's wrong?" My annoyance instantly evaporates. All sorts of scenarios are playing through my head.
"You haven't looked outside yet, or watched the news?" she asks after a minute of snuffling as she struggles to get her crying under control.
"I just woke up." I defend myself, not wanting her to make a big deal about all the missed calls and texts.
I can hear her taking a deep breath on the other end of the phone. "Dead people are coming back to life, it's all over the news. They're everywhere outside,” she pauses for a breath before expelling it in a rush, “Oh God, are your doors locked?"
I sit bolt upright in bed. "That isn't funny." She knows I hate zombie stuff, and she’s obviously trying to scare me. My toe gets caught in a stray thread on the comforter, and I wiggle it free as I continue to listen to Abby’s heavy breathing on the other end of the phone.
"I know how this sounds Jane, please though, you have to believe me. I swear on everything that is holy—the dead are walking the earth." She sounds close to tears again, and I begin to feel the first prickle of apprehension, though I quickly stomp it out. I’m being ridiculous.
"Alright," I say, climbing out of the bed. "I'll bite, just this once. I'm going to look outside, but if there aren't any zombies out there, I'm never talking to you again!" I rise from the bed with an exaggerated huff.
"No!" Her voice yelps through the phone before she hastily lowers it to a whisper. I don't know why she is saying these things to me, but I begin to freak out a bit. Something isn’t right, it isn’t like Abby to mess with me, and she’s usually such a terrible actress.
"Turn the lights off first, and don't open the blinds, just look out quick and then, get away from the window." Adrenaline spikes through my body in response to her words, but I try to shake it off.
I tell myself she is just being a goof. My light is already off, so I creep out of bed and head for the window.
"Are you still there?" Her voice crackles in over the line, making me jump.
"Yeah, hold on," I mutter as I reach my finger out and push the blinds apart to take a quick look.
My breath escapes my body in a whoosh of shock. For a full minute I can't even comprehend what I'm seeing. Cars and garbage are littering the once pristinely manicured cul-de-sac. There’s even a car on fire a few houses down. Everywhere, illuminated by the harsh, noon day sun, there are bloodied bodies staggering around with stilted, jerky steps.
My throat closes up with fear. I actually feel my bowels quiver, wanting to let loose their contents.
"Abby." It's the only word I can squeak out around my full blown panic.
I should look away from the window, but I don’t. I see a man down on the ground, dragging the top half of his body around with his arms. His entire bottom half is a ragged, bloody stump trailing what looks to be stringy bits of his intestines. As if he can sense me, his head snaps around, and he stares right at my house. I drop to the floor and begin to hyperventilate.
"My parents aren't here." The thought occurs to me at the same time I speak it aloud to Abby. They are in New York this weekend and have left me home alone because I am responsible, and nothing bad ever happens in our quiet neighborhood.
Abby doesn't have a chance to say anything because her Mother takes the phone.
"Jane, sweetheart, are you okay?"
I manage to get out a shaky yes in between my chattering teeth.
"That's good." Her voice is very soothing, like the way someone might talk reassuringly to a wild animal. "We are almost packed up, and then we are coming to get you. We should be there in 20 minutes. Stay inside, stay a
way from the windows, don't open the door until you see us." Her voice is shaking now, and that makes me more scared than anything else. "Pack a bag, only things that you will really need: fresh clothes and food. Keep it light because you'll have to carry it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mrs. Washington." I squeeze my eyes shut tight and grip the phone like it's a lifeline.
"You're a good girl, Janie. Stay safe, we are on our way."
"You too." I manage to mumble before the line goes dead. I feel myself about to fall apart. I want to so badly, but there isn't time.
My hands are shaking so hard that I almost drop the phone. With fingers that don’t want to cooperate, I quickly dial my Mom’s cell and hold my breath. It rings and rings. Each ring making me feel worse and worse until the voicemail picks up. I hear my Mom’s cheerful voice instructing me to leave a message at the beep.
My voice cracks, and I revert back to a much younger version of myself. “Momma,” my voice trembles. “I really hope you’re okay. There’s bad things outside here…,” For a minute I don’t know what to say. Saying that zombies are murdering people sounds too crazy. “Abby’s parents are coming to pick me up. Please call me back, and let me know you and Dad are okay. I love you guys.” I hang up before I can completely break down and freak my Mom out worse. I remind myself that help is on the way and stuff my emotions down. I grab my school backpack and dump everything out in a messy pile on the floor.
My entire body is shaking, but I manage to stuff some spare clothes into the backpack and get myself dressed. I pull a hoodie on over my shirt. It isn't cold out, but not a lot of clothes are going to fit into my bag. I toss in my phone charger and my hairbrush. I walk past the bathroom, and then I go back to throw in some deodorant and my toothbrush, my mom would have insisted. My stomach tightens when I think about my parents. Is this madness happening everywhere or just here in Blairsville? I don't let myself think about it right now, my parents are going to be okay. They have to be.
I stand at the top of the stairs and stare down into the room below. My heart is pounding and my ears are straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. I don't hear any out of place noise, but I'm so scared that I can’t stop shaking. I run into my parent’s bedroom. I pause as a lump rises up in my throat when I glance at their bed. Where are they right now? Are they alive? Did this mess reach as far as New York? A tear trickles down my cheek, and I angrily wipe it away. I can’t let myself think about this right now or I will completely shut down. I run to their walk-in closet. For a minute my hand hovers over the knob in terror.
