by Wilde, J. M.
All citizens are in lockdown, with no-one allowed on the street until the government declares it is safe to do so.”
The reporter paused, touching her index finger to her ear for a moment before continuing again.
“We’re going live to the exclusion zone, where I’ve just been informed a riot of some sort has broken out.”
A live shot of the zone appeared on the screen. The police and military had been overrun by civilians. Tear gas was clouding the crowd, screams filled the air, and within seconds, guns were firing. The footage became blurred as the cameraman started to run. We heard the reporter’s voice as she asked the cameraman what was happening, but all he did was scream. A moment later, we heard a muffled thud, and the camera was on the ground. We could see a man lying on his back, his face contorted in pain as he screamed again. Suddenly, he started sliding out of view, and it looked like someone—or something—was dragging him away. More screams followed, terrible, blood-curdling screams that made me feel ill. The reporter called his name.
“Bill? Bill, are you alright? What’s happening there?”
His screams fell silent. We all stood around the television, holding our breaths. Suddenly, a face appeared. It was a man, and he was staring down the barrel of the camera with an evil glint in his colourless eyes. Blood dripped from his lips. A chill ran down my spine as I realised that he looked just like our mysterious customer. We covered our ears as he let out an ear-piercing screech before disappearing from view. A crowd of infected followed him, their grey, rotting legs stumbling over the camera until the connection was cut.
“Zombies,” whispered Ben, staring slack-jawed at the screen.
“Oh come on, Ben,” Jo scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Zombies? This isn’t one of your video games. This is serious!”
“Were you just watching that?” he asked, gesturing towards the television. “You saw the guy just outside the door. What else could it be?”
“We need to get rid of that guy,” I said. “He’s infected. He’s been bitten, and he looks just like them.”
My stomach turned when I heard the sound of the bell ringing as the door of the diner opened and slowly shut again.
“I hope that was him leaving,” I whispered as I unlocked the door and slid it open an inch.
I peered through the gap, but could still see the infected man trying to stand up. “He’s still there. I think his arm is broken. He can’t pull himself up.”
“That means another one just walked in,” Wyatt said as he switched off the television and stood close behind me.
Any other day I would have shivered in his close presence, but at that moment, we stood on the edge of the end of the world, and we had to survive.
I heard a loud groan and someone shuffling through the diner, edging closer to the four of us hiding in the cramped office.
We were trapped.
I held my breath, trying desperately to stay quiet. I carefully began sliding the door closed, but it was too late.
A rancid, decomposing face appeared on the other side of the entryway, its dilated pupils burning into me. It was the woman from the dumpster.
Chapter Five
The zombie let out a terrifying screech and crammed a long, mauled arm through the opening in the doorway. The putrid smell of rotting flesh filled the room as her infected hand swiped at me frantically. The mere sight of it filled my stomach with bile, but I knew I had to fight back. I threw myself against the door, pushing it sideways as hard as I could. Wyatt leaned over me, arms outstretched as he helped me slide the door into the intruding arm. Ben tried to grab her by the hand and push it back, but she was swinging too wildly to catch it.
I pressed my palms harder against the door, and together Wyatt and I forced it closed on the zombie woman’s arm. We heard a crack, breaking the bone, but the possessed arm didn’t stop. Taking action, Jo opened the office cupboard and pulled out a broom.
“Move aside,” she said to Ben, who did as she asked. Using the head of the broom, she pushed at the arm, swiping at it again and again until it started backing away. She pushed the shattered arm back through the door and we slammed it shut, locking it fast.
Everything fell silent. Stepping away from the door, I tried to catch my breath and calm myself down. I could feel my entire body trembling. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would explode.
Even though we were locked away from the zombie, I could still hear her. She groaned and sniffed at the other side of the door, hungry for us. The groan grew into a loud growl, and she furiously rammed herself into the door. Reacting instantly, Ben and Wyatt threw themselves against it to stop the monster from breaking in.
“What do we do?” I asked, my legs feeling so unstable I had to leverage myself against the wall.
No-one answered.
The zombie tried harder to get in, slamming against the wood repeatedly as she screeched and growled. A crack started to form in the wood, and Jo and I joined the fight, leaning our arms against it with all our strength.
I locked eyes with Wyatt, all awkwardness and guilt erased from my memory. None of that mattered. I just wanted my friends and I to make it out of that room alive.
“I am not being eaten by a zombie in a fifties diner,” I declared to the room. No-one paid any attention, of course, they were all too busy holding the door closed. As was I, but the insanity of the moment was starting to get to me. I felt like I was in an old horror movie, standing in the cramped back office wearing my bow tie, apron and paper hat while a real-life walker tried to bang the door down.
My arms trembled as I used all my strength to push against the thin timber door. Together, the four of us stood there, palms sweating, hearts pounding, hoping we were strong enough. Our faces contorted in fear and pain as the monster on the other side threw her rotting body against us again and again.
I didn’t understand how any of it could be happening. Less than twenty-four hours before, my biggest problem in life involved boy trouble and commitment issues, and now I was about to be torn to shreds by some infected creep, in my work uniform, no less.
The bell rang again.
Another one had come for us.
I froze at the sound of a desperate voice. “Please! I need help!” It wasn’t another of the infected who just walked in, it was a woman. “The infected are coming!” She puffed, sounding out of breath. I wondered if she had outrun the crowd of zombies we had seen on the news.
The bashing on the door stopped. I sighed in relief, but was struck with anguish when I realised why the zombie had suddenly lost interest in us. She had found easier prey.
“No!” the poor woman screamed. The bell jingled as she ran back out of the diner, but when it rang again a split-second later, I knew the zombie was close behind her. Tears welled in my eyes as I heard her screams fade as she ran further down the street.
“We need to get out of here,” I said. Moving slowly, I unlocked the door and peered through the gap. “I can’t see the other one.”
I wanted to run out of the diner, I wanted to help the woman who had unknowingly saved our lives, but I knew it would be futile. Her far-off screams had already grown silent.
With a watchful eye, I peeked out of the office and looked around, but saw no-one. The undead customer was no longer on the floor near the counter. I stepped out, with Wyatt, Ben and Jo close behind.
I was about to turn into the kitchen when something hard plowed into my side, sending me flying through the air and skidding along the floor. I slammed against the metal side of the fryer, crying out in pain.
I could hear Jo screaming my name and heard Wyatt and Ben running to help, but the zombie already had me cornered.
My eyes widened in horror as he ran towards me, bacon fat hanging out of the corner of his mouth and his broken arm swinging unnaturally at his side. I saw pure, festering rage burning in his sinister eyes. Any trace of humanity had been ripped away, his soul as black as the darkest night.
Spurred on b
y the threat of death and full of adrenaline, I jumped to my feet and braced for impact. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the tray of boiling french fries Wyatt and Ben had cooked earlier, sitting in the fryer next to me.
Without thinking, I grabbed hold of the handle with two hands, lifted it from the hot oil and swung it at the zombie, hitting him in the face. Shrieking like a pig, it stumbled backwards as the searing hot oil burned his skin, making his eyelids bubble and melt away. But he didn’t stop. Within seconds, he was running straight towards me once more.
“Help!” I cried as I climbed onto the kitchen island, trying to slide over to the other side. The zombie grabbed hold of my leg and started sliding me back, thick drool dripping from his lips as he eagerly awaited the taste of my warm flesh. Wyatt and Jo grabbed hold of my hands and arms, trying to pull me away, but he refused to let go. I screamed in terror as I watched his diseased mouth stretch open. Frantically, I tried to kick him off of me, but its grip was too strong. He sunk his teeth into my leg.
“Eva!” Ben called, and I spotted a kitchen knife in his hand. “Here! Aim for his head!” He slid it over the counter just as the zombie prepared to bite down again.
Letting go of Wyatt’s hand, I reached over and took hold of the knife. I swung at the zombie, but I couldn’t reach him. I shook Jo off of me, letting the zombie pull me down over the counter and onto the floor. He made a chilling screeching sound as he pounced straight for my throat. I clutched onto the handle of the knife with both hands and swung at him, stabbing him straight through his eye. His body went limp, and his screech quietened into a gurgle before he finally fell silent.
I pushed the zombie off of me with shaking hands.
“Eva?” I heard Wyatt yell as he ran around the counter, unable to see me. He skidded around the counter, sliding to the ground next to me.
“I’m okay,” I breathed as I started to pick myself up.
“Thank god,” he sighed, helping me to my feet.
We backed away from the corpse as Jo walked towards me, cupping her hands over her mouth in shock.
Ben stood on the other side of the island, glaring at me. “I saw him bite you.”
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
He took a step forward, positioning himself next to a knife rack on the counter. “For now,” he said. “But what about in ten minutes, when the infection starts to spread?”
Wyatt stood in front of me protectively. “What the hell are you trying to say, mate?”
I put my hand on Wyatt’s arm and moved out from behind him to face Ben myself. “I told you, I’m fine. He didn’t pierce my skin. He didn’t even pierce my boot, see?” I held my leg out to show him. There were teeth marks on my boot, but nothing more than that. My boots had saved my life.
“Show me your leg,” ordered Ben, still unconvinced.
Wyatt balled his hands into fists by his side. “What are you gonna do if she’s bitten, Ben? Kill her?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“If she’s infected we’ll all die!” Ben yelled.
“Ben, relax!” I said as I removed my boot and threw it onto the ground. I rolled up my jeans and showed him my unharmed leg. “See? I’m fine. I knew I loved these boots for a reason,” I smiled nervously at Jo, trying to lighten the tension in the room.
“Fine,” muttered Ben before walking away. He pushed through the swinging doors into the back room.
I sat down on the counter stool, trying to calm myself down after such a close call. My mind raced as it tried to process what had happened, but the rest of my body felt numb. I didn’t know whether to cry or throw up, but either way, I was alive.
We all were.
For now.
Chapter Six
I ran over to the double doors, turned the lock and reached up to slide the bolts into place. Jo ran over holding a chain from the back room and wrapped it around the handles, locking it with a padlock.
We ripped off our aprons, ties and hats and followed Wyatt and Ben as they dragged the corpse through the swinging doors into the back room.
In a loud crunch, Wyatt pulled the knife out of the dead man’s face and threw the body into the walk-in freezer, with Ben slamming the door shut.
We immediately started rummaging through all the drawers in the kitchen, gathering knives of all sizes, the diner’s fire extinguisher—whatever we thought we could use to defend ourselves.
“I have an idea,” Ben said as he ran out of the kitchen.
We followed him through diner and into the office, each of us clutching to a butcher knife. Ben ran over to the lost and found box that sat under the desk and started searching through it.
“Yes!” He pulled out a small can of hairspray and a lighter.
I looked at him blankly, wondering what on earth he needed them for. He then ran back into the kitchen, with us trailing close behind.
Opening the kitchen closet, he started pulling out brooms and mops and throwing them to each of us, then without saying a word, he ran back over to the drawer, pulled out some duct tape and ran back out into the diner, taking a seat in one of the only booths that wasn’t right next to a window. Jo, Wyatt and I joined him in the booth, wondering what he was up to.
“Pass me your knife,” he said to Jo, and she did as he asked.
We sat and watched curiously as he proceeded to tape the handle of her butcher knife to the end of one of the broomsticks. Holding it up to show his creation, Ben motioned to us to do the same. We grabbed the tape and started working on our own makeshift spears.
Once we were done, Jo looked over at the hairspray and lighter sitting on the table. “What are they for?”
“If it works,” Ben replied, “a flamethrower. But it probably won’t kill them. Maybe it’ll slow them down. I don’t know.”
I raised my eyebrows at him, wondering how he had such expert knowledge on homemade weaponry.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, reading the surprise in my expression. “I play a lot of post apocalyptic video games.”
“What else do you know about ...” I paused, not wanting say the word.
“Zombies?” he asked.
“Do you really think that’s what they are?” Jo asked.
“I don’t know what else they could be,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “First, a virus spreads across half of the country. Classic cause for a zombie outbreak. Then, that guy said he was bitten, and he died. He died. Minutes later, he gets up and he’s all deranged and decaying and has an intense craving for human flesh? Sounds like a zombie to me.”
As much as I feared to admit it, I knew he was right. I’d seen my fair share of zombie movies and watched every episode of The Undead, I knew a zombie when I saw one. But never in my wildest nightmares did I expect to be living it.
“So what do we do?” Wyatt looked up at Ben, taking a break from his weapon-making.
“Well, I don’t know how much of it applies,” replied Ben as he shifted uneasily in his seat. “But if these zombies are anything like the ones from the video games and movies, the only way to really kill them is to destroy their brain, like Eva did with the knife in the eye before. But it’s hard, really hard. The best way to survive is to stay away from them. To run and hide. We have to be quiet, we need to gather weapons and food, and whatever happens, we can’t get bitten.”
I couldn’t believe it. My head started to spin as I tried to process everything he had said, and I felt my body start to go numb with fear. I suddenly felt light-headed at the thought of spending the rest of my life being chased by ravenous, wretched zombies. This can’t be happening, I thought as I stood up from the table.
“We should eat,” I said, even though I wasn’t hungry. I needed to distract myself from my terror, even just for a few minutes. “None of us have eaten. We need to keep our strength up.”
We spent the next hour in silence, making ourselves salad sandwiches and quietly eating them on the floor behind the counter, out of sight from any dea
dly passersby.
We decided it would be best to not have burgers—Daddy-O’s signature meal—because the smell of cooking meat sizzling on the stove might lure more zombies our way. Even though the doors were locked and bolted, it would only require half of the horde we saw on TV earlier to break through the windows.
And after seeing that monster try to tear into my leg, drool dripping from its mouth as it craved my flesh, meat had lost its appeal.
As I sat on the cold tiles eating my sandwich, I pondered what Ben had said about weapons, destroying brains, running and hiding, all the things we now needed to do to survive.
It made everything that had happened last night seem so unimportant. So trivial. Yesterday, I was complaining about having to wake up early for work, now I don’t know if I’ll even wake up tomorrow at all. I might not be alive that long to experience such a blessing again.
All the little problems of yesterday had been completely washed away and replaced by one sole focus: survival.
I brushed the crumbs off of my lap and stood up, watching the windows intently as I walked towards the office.
“Where are you going?” Jo asked as I walked by her.
“To watch the news,” I said. “If we’re going to get through this, we need as much information as we can.”
Chapter Seven
More of the infected started to fill the streets. We could see them through the windows and hear them through the walls. Quietly, we huddled together in the office, hoping desperately to see signs that the country was regaining control. But our hopes were dashed the moment we switched on the television.
“It’s getting worse,” Ben murmured.
I listened closely to the reporter, noticing her eyes were red and puffy, as though she had been crying.
“Tens of thousands are trapped all over the city as the virus takes hold of more and more people. Countless reports confirm that those who are infected can turn violent within minutes and decay at a rapid rate. We here at Channel Three News have barricaded ourselves inside this studio, and suggest anyone watching this do the same. Lock your doors, stay quiet and don’t let anyone inside ... no matter who they are.”
