Alive?

by Melissa Woods

  She should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

  Harold took another drink from his thermos and shuddered. While he appreciated the thought behind Mrs. Dowly bringing him coffee each evening, the old woman always made it far too strong. Each night he hoped she’d get it right, and each night he was disappointed. He sighed, emptying the remainder of his whiskey bottle into the thermos. At least he could improve it a little.

  He flicked through the newspapers he’d read a thousand times, and stretched his legs inside the small gatehouse. There’d been no newcomers for weeks, yet he still had to sit down there and wait. He didn’t mind being alone. In fact, he preferred to be away from the company of others, but the boredom was merciless.

  He opened the door, then stepped out into the cool evening air. As usual, he walked to the gate and rattled it gently. Still secure. He held up his flashlight, scanning the road. It was empty. The dead ones rarely came out this far.

  The face appeared at the gates so suddenly that Harold fell backward, landing heavily on the floor.

  “Help me!” The woman choked, rattling the bars helplessly. She had long red hair, matted with sweat and dirt. There was a small bald patch near her temple, as though a handful of hair had been ripped out from the root. Her clothes were torn and stained with blood. Her head and nose were bleeding, and her skin was caked with dirt. She had no shoes. Harold noticed all of those things in the first few seconds from where he sat frozen in place.

  “Please let me in,” she sobbed, shaking the gates again.

  Harold scrambled to his feet, grabbing the walkie-talkie.

  “There’s someone at the gates,” he stammered. No answer.

  “Please,” the woman cried. “My head hurts.”

  “Hello?” Harold tried again. He was supposed to ask first; that had always been the rule. But there was no answer, and the woman was crying. She must have been really hurt.

  “Please,” she sobbed. “They killed my sister. Please…please let me in.”

  “Are you bit?”

  “I’m fine, let me in.”

  He couldn’t leave her, not outside in the dark. Those things would eat her right down to the bone if they found her. And they would; they could always smell the blood. Harold made up his mind.

  “Hang on!” The keys were in the gatehouse, and he sprinted inside despite his bad hip. When he was back, he jammed the key into the lock and pulled the gates open. The woman fell at his feet. And now, with the light from the gatehouse shining down on her, he could see the bites. More than he’d ever seen on a living person before. She wasn’t moving. He didn’t have long until she turned. His knife was in the gatehouse, too. But as he moved to get it, he heard them coming. He was too late. Harold looked up just in time to see them flood through the gates.

  When Violet heard the screaming, it took her over a minute to even register what that meant. It had been a while since she’d heard sounds like that. At first, she was certain it was a nightmare. The noise had to be in her head; no one screamed here.

  But then it happened again. The sound was long, drawn out, and agonizing. Within seconds, she was on her feet and running to the bedroom door. More yells now, the sound of movement outside. She heard the others getting up behind her. Violet flung the door open and found chaos. People seemed to be running in all directions down the hallway, all screaming or crying, some bloodied. A mother pulled her two young children in the direction of the stairs, both sobbing and one covered in blood. A group of teenagers charged in the opposite direction, carrying vases, table legs, and other things they had deemed heavy enough to be dangerous. Violet heard glass smashing, things breaking, and more screaming. The walls almost seemed to be shaking. Sam appeared at her side, hurriedly putting his shoes on.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, eyes scanning the hallway.

  “I don’t know,” Violet replied, though of course she did. They both did. “I think—”

  She was cut off by a scream, much louder than the others. It was female and painfully familiar.

  “Rachel?” Sam cried, running at full speed toward the sound. Joe followed, grabbing a knife from the table.

  Violet swung around, seeing Maggie and Toby behind her.

  “We have to go,” she said, putting her shoes on, motioning for the other two to do the same. It was only then she noticed the three of them were alone.

  “Where’s Matt? Where’s Ben?”

  “I don’t know,” Maggie replied, dazed. “I think I heard Ben scratching at the door a little while ago; maybe Matt took him out? I was half asleep…”

  Violet felt lost. Her friends were scattered, and she had no idea what to do.

  “We need to go,” Toby said as the screams outside seemed to intensify. “The biters…”

  He was right. Violet took Maggie’s hand, and Toby took Maggie’s other one.

  “We stay together,” Violet insisted. She grabbed the other knife from the table, held it in her free hand, and led her friends out of the room.

  The hallway was crowded, and Violet fought to block out the sounds around her. She hardly recognized the place; tables, chairs and other debris were smashed and scattered everywhere. Blood streaked the walls, and was smeared onto the clothes of the people they passed. There was a body on the floor. Although she tried not to look, she couldn’t avoid seeing the blond hair and glasses.

  “Matt,” Violet called, but could barely hear herself over the screams. He wouldn’t be able to hear her even if he were in that very hallway.

  As they passed a bedroom door, Violet could hear hands pounding from inside the room.

  Are there people trapped in there?

  She reached for the handle just as a rotten hand punched clean through the wood. Toby pulled Maggie, and therefore Violet, back just in time, and the dead began to tear through the door as though it were made of tissue paper. The three of them ran toward the stairs, still holding tightly onto each other. Violet tried to keep searching for the others, but there were too many people, too much chaos. She called out their names, but the calls were unanswered. They reached the stairs, and she was so intent on running that she barely noticed what was blocking their way. Thankfully, Maggie and Toby did and pulled her back.

  At the bottom of the stairs was a dead body, and clustered around it were five biters feeding. Other people were stopped at the top of the stairs, too, no one daring to go forward. Nervous glances passed between them. Violet knew they didn’t have much time; there was more screaming and smashing from behind them. It wouldn’t be long before the dead had them boxed in. The ones from the bedroom would be there any minute, and she knew they were probably only delayed now because they were feeding on someone else.

  Not my friends, she prayed silently. Violet looked at Maggie and Toby. They both knew what they had to do. She took a breath, and then the three of them ran at full speed down the stairs, splitting up at the last moment to run on either side of the creatures. Violet spun quickly when they were clear, but the dead hadn’t even noticed them passing.

  “In here,” a voice called to them from a room to the left, and Maggie, Toby, and Violet quickly made their way toward it. Once they were inside, someone slammed the door shut. Robert was there, as well as several others she vaguely recognized. Robert and another man moved a couch against the door to secure it.

  “How many munchers?” Robert asked the dark room.

  “I don’t know,” began one of the other men. “Could be hundreds.”

  “Do we know how many people we’ve lost?”

  No one answered for a long time. The screaming outside the door continued. Finally, a woman spoke. “I’ve seen at least six bodies, but there were so many more injured.”

  “Bites?” Robert asked.

  The woman sighed. “I don’t know. Some could’ve been. I was too busy running to check.”

  “The Collins’ are gone,” added a skinny man with glasses. “I saw those things rip them all apart.”

  Violet felt her stoma
ch drop. That was Rachel’s family.

  “How did they get in?” the woman asked. “I thought we were secure?”

  Robert shook his head. “I don’t know…” It seemed as though a thought had occurred to him, though, because he hurriedly pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Harold? Harold, are you there?” There was no answer, but no static either. The batteries were dead. Robert threw the thing to the ground.

  “What should we do?” the man with glasses asked.

  There was a crash from outside the room. All eyes were on the door as it began to shake.

  “What do we do?” the woman repeated, her tone frantic. The screams outside got louder, but Violet realized they sounded less like the living and more like the dead. The door continued to shake, and two men tried to hold the couch in place.

  Robert began to speak over the noise. “We can stay and try to fight for our home, or we can run. You need to do what’s right for you and your families.” He moved toward a desk in the middle of the room, pulled open a drawer, and brought out a handgun. “I’m staying.”

  The couch shifted forward, and hands began to appear around the side of the opening door. Three men now tried to force the door shut, but it was no good. There were too many biters, and they started to fight their way inside. The woman screamed. Robert began to fire the gun, but though some of the dead fell, the noise drew more, and they continued to break into the room.

  Violet frantically surveyed her surroundings. The only way out would be through the windows. She ran to the closest one and tried to open it, but it was locked. She saw Maggie try and fail to open another. Toby went to the desk, picking up a heavy paperweight. He moved to Violet’s window and hurled it through the glass. It smashed, and he used his foot to kick out some of the larger pieces that were still in place.

  “Let’s go,” he ordered. Violet pushed Maggie toward the window. Toby helped her out before climbing out himself. Violet followed, catching her hand on a piece of glass that still jutted from the frame. There wasn’t time for her to register the pain, though. She briefly glanced back into the room.

  The men were fighting to close the door, but it was for nothing. The dead were pushing it wider and wider, and Robert couldn’t have many more bullets. Violet dropped from the window, which was higher off the ground than she’d expected. She stumbled a little, but Toby and Maggie helped her to her feet. The three of them ran from the house as the gunshots stopped. They passed the stables, none of them having any idea where they were going.

  “The horses are gone,” Maggie breathed as they stopped to catch their breath.

  “Ben always seemed to sense the biters,” Violet suggested. “Maybe the horses did, too.” She wished she’d had such foresight. She’d been so sure they were safe. How could she have been so stupid? Now the group was split, and she had no idea what to do or where to go.

  “What now?” Maggie asked.

  Violet shook her head. She had no clue.

  “We can’t go to the main gates,” Toby said. “If that’s how the biters got in, then we want to stay as far from there as possible.”

  “There has to be another way out.” Maggie’s voice caught in her throat. “There has to be.”

  Violet closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think. She tried to block out the sounds from the house and the fear of what was happening, so she could just focus on every time she’d walked through the grounds with Ben. It came to her immediately.

  “The river!”

  “What about it?” Maggie asked uncertainly, but Toby was nodding.

  “There’s a boat down there,” he answered for her. “We can use it to get out!”

  Fear filled Maggie’s face, and Violet knew why. To get to the river, they would have to go through the woods, at night, when they knew for sure there were biters inside the walls. It wasn’t exactly the most attractive option, but there was no other choice. They would just have to hope, however morbid it was, that the dead were too busy in the house to go for a nighttime stroll.

  They moved toward the tree line. The woods were even more frightening in the dark. Despite the full moon, Violet could barely see past the first row of trees.

  “Stay close,” she whispered, moving into the darkness.

  They walked together, still holding hands. Violet took slow, deep breaths, trying to ignore the sounds of movement around her. It could’ve been the dead; it could’ve been animals; it could’ve been other survivors. She wasn’t going to take the chance by calling out. Would their friends come this way? Should she have stayed to look for them?

  She knew Matt and the others wouldn’t want her to put herself or Maggie and Toby in danger, but she felt incredibly guilty all the same. If she got out tonight, how could she live knowing she’d left the others behind? She hoped Ben was still with Matt. The dog should’ve been able to sense the dead and warn him. As she walked, Violet found herself brushing her arm along the bushes and trees. If Ben led Matt this way, she wanted to make it easy for him to follow her.

  She felt Maggie pull back on her hand, and she stopped walking immediately.

  “What?” Violet whispered, only just loud enough to hear. Maggie and Toby crouched, and she did the same. Maggie pointed up ahead, to a small clearing in the trees. There was a biter there, standing in a patch of moonlight. It was a little girl. She looked around four years old, maybe five. She had white-blonde curls matted with blood, and swayed dreamily where she stood. She wore a blue party dress. Violet felt sick. She’d never seen one that young before, but at that moment, she realized there must be so many like that. Surely small kids would be the easiest to catch? Out there, in that new world, there had to be thousands of undead children. Violet’s skin prickled, and she was unable to take her eyes away from the little girl.

  “It’s just one,” Toby breathed. “We can kill it.”

  Violet knew that was the right thing. They should end it for the poor creature, but she couldn’t make herself move. Maggie and Toby must’ve felt the same, because they stayed frozen, too. And then, it was too late. Violet heard a sound behind her, nothing more than a twig snapping, but the creature heard it.

  The little girl’s head rose, a small growl escaping her lips. She moved forward slowly, still listening. Violet held her breath, trying to keep as still as possible. Another noise, louder this time. Something was definitely behind them. The girl hissed hungrily, charging toward Violet and the others. Violet closed her eyes, felt the rush of air as the biter passed inches from her, then nothing. It hadn’t noticed them. Maggie and Toby got to their feet, and Violet did the same, her legs still shaking. She took a breath, and they continued silently through the woods toward the river.

  They were too late; the boat was gone. Toby swore loudly, and Violet kicked a stone into the water. Maggie dropped onto a log, putting her head in her hands.

  “Now what?” she mumbled.

  Violet didn’t know what to say. She’d been so sure the boat would still be there she hadn’t even considered the possibility that someone else would have the same idea. They could go back through the woods and take their chances with the gate, but the idea of that made her feel sick to her stomach.

  “Hey!” The voice came from the tree line. Joe and Sam were leaving the woods. Joe was smiling at the sight of them, and Violet pulled him in for a hug.

  “Same idea as us!” Joe squeezed her tight. “We have so much in common, Vi.”

  Violet nodded, but her eyes were now on Sam. He was staring vacantly at the ground, and she saw his shirt was drenched in blood. The blood didn’t make her hungry, which meant it wasn’t his.

  “Rachel?” Violet asked tentatively. Sam met her gaze for just a moment before shaking his head. Joe’s smile was gone now.

  “Let’s just go,” Sam muttered. Violet’s stomach sank.

  “Where’s the boat?” Joe asked, only just noticing.

  “Gone,” Violet replied weakly.

  Joe scowled. “Thieving—”

  “What happened to
your hand?” Sam interrupted. Violet had forgotten all about it. Realizing she still had a piece of glass jammed into the skin between her thumb and forefinger, she pulled it out slowly. Although it hurt, she didn’t make a sound.

  “Jesus, Violet, what are you made of?” Joe breathed, ripping the sleeve of his shirt and wrapping it around her hand carefully.

  “Thanks.” She couldn’t take her eyes off Sam. He looked distraught. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

  There was a rustling from the trees, Violet raised her knife. But the person who stepped out wasn’t dead.

  “Matt!” Violet flung her arms around him, breathing in his familiar smell.

  He’s okay. We’re all okay.

  “You’re here, too?” Joe asked. “We’ve clearly been spending too much time together if we’re starting to think the same.” He gave Matt a hug. Ben jumped up at each of them, wagging his tail excitedly.

  “I took Ben outside,” Matt explained, “We walked for a while, then suddenly there was all this screaming. I went back to the house, but you guys were gone.”

  “What did you see?” Violet asked.

  Matt shook his head. “There was no one left.” His eyes flicked to Sam, who was now sitting on the log with his head in his hands. Matt’s shoulders slumped.