Probably.
I guess I don't really know what else there is to say. I told you what/where/when/how, but, that's all I've got.
"Who" is anybody's guess, and the same goes for "why." All these people dead, and if the reports were right, it isn't like there's one country that's just fine while the rest of us burned. The whole world got hit, from the rich to the poor. We didn't even have a group claiming credit for it all, which was strange in itself. You'd think this was a terrorist's wet dream, if they were really responsible. Even if, or when, when we recover... there's no guarantee we'll ever get a real answer.
It's too much to think about sometimes. For now, it's about time for me to find something to eat. I'm going to leave this journal behind, just in case. Wish me luck? God it feels weird writing to myself like this. Whatever. I'll wish myself luck. It'll probably make about as much of a difference anyway.
- Natalie
slap scratch slap scratch slap scratch
It was just like that, back and forth, a perfect rhythm that never stopped. One hand, barely more than tattered muscle and shredded skin, splatting dully against the boarded door. The other, now only a rasp of jagged bone at the wrist, slowly gouging a way inside. It might take an eternity, but it would dig through the barricade eventually, filing away one thin sliver of wood at a time.
slap scratch slap scratch slap scratch
Natalie let out a low sigh. Her writing had been a minor reprieve, but the reality of what waited for her outside hadn't changed. In some part of her mind, she had hoped that someone would come by and take care of the problem for her while she was distracted. She wasn't surprised that it didn't happen. As much as she might hope, she knew there was nobody coming to help. She was alone. Setting her journal aside, she paused a moment to let her hand linger over its cover.
"No food, monsters abound, and I'm worried about what's going to happen to my book... that sounds about right, though calling you a book might be a little generous." She chuckled weakly, her fingers slowly tracing the raised lettering that marked its front.
It was a common spiral notebook, sporting the crest of some community college she'd never heard of. Hardly something you'd glance at twice, but one of her most important possessions, regardless. It was one of the only items she had that reminded her of how things used to be. At the very least, it gave her something normal she could do, and "normal" was hard to come by these days.
slap scratch slap scratch slap scratch
A quick peek from her window revealed the scene outside hadn't changed much since the zombies' arrival. Natalie had been holed up in some little off-the-road neighborhood, making an impromptu hideout in one of the abandoned houses there. The place hadn't been scavenged, so food and water had been in decent supply. It was two stories, like most of the homes around, and she had a good view of the area from upstairs.
More importantly, there was a tree with a branch big enough to hold her weight that came close to her window, if she needed to make a quick escape. She'd even had company for a little while, though he turned out to be more trouble than he was worth.
Natalie never knew his name. They'd never actually talked, but he had been in the house across from hers. There was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance, both preferring to take their chances separately, but it felt friendly. They used to wave to each other, and while it wasn't much, it felt good to know there was somebody alive nearby.
He had nailed thick boards across his downstairs doors and windows, and he looked like he would be able to hold his own in a fight. The upper floor was unfortified, and sometimes they'd just watch the street together from their perches. There had never been any zombies nearby, but that was bound to change eventually.
It turned out to be sooner rather than later, and Natalie was the first to spot them. There were only two, and if he had just kept calm they would have passed by without incident.
slap scratch slap scratch slap scratch
Natalie had come to hate that man. It was his fault those monsters were still out there. He could have at least tried to fight them before taking the easy way out. She hated him, but it was the memory in her head that bothered her the most. The way he had just sat there, howling at her from his open window, his eyes wide and panicked.
She wanted him to shut up, to stop begging for her help, but when he stopped... it was worse. She watched his body sag, saw him slump down to his knees. She had seen a lot of terrible things since the outbreak, but that empty look on his face cut into her.
She didn't realize he had a gun in his hand until he raised it to his head. Out of instinct, she had closed her eyes. The gunshot split the air, and when she opened her eyes again, the only indicator that he had ever existed was a red mist draped delicately over the window frame.
Now she saw it whenever she blinked. Seared on the inside of her eyelids, the last expression of a broken man, his blood vibrant against the white paint of his home. The zombies that had been trying to get into his house responded to the noise even more violently. One managed to get halfway through a window on his lower deck before getting caught on something. The other was at his door, slap scratch, slowly working its way through.
Natalie swallowed the growl in her throat, spinning away from the window. She'd just have to be quiet, and careful. She could go out through the back door and make her way through some of the other homes. With the amount of stockpiling everyone had done in light of the crisis, she was bound to find something she could eat. Plus, thanks to that idiot firing a gun, any creeps that might have been waiting inside the houses would be making plenty of noise trying to get out. This might be a blessing.
It took her a minute to do a once-over of her supplies. She had a knife, used more for cutting through obstacles and opening cans rather than flesh. A small crowbar, hefty but light enough to use and perfectly suited for zombie-related troubleshooting. Swim goggles for keeping various body fluids at bay while the crowbar was "solving problems," a backpack for bringing back any hard-earned spoils, and heavy gloves to keep her hands safe and clean.
It should be enough to get her into the neighboring houses safely. As a last minute thought, she grabbed an empty can of peaches. An empty food can is light and makes a fair amount of noise when thrown. It could make for a good distraction if she was in a pinch.
Feeling as prepared as she ever did, Natalie stepped out of her room and started toward the stairs. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and despite her best efforts to reassure herself, she couldn't deny that she was afraid.
Those things would tear apart people who were actually trained at keeping their cool during a fight, let alone somebody like her. She'd never cared about fighting, and she wasn't exceptionally strong or fast. Virtually no advantages against a walker if she got backed into a corner. The thought of being face-to-face with one of them was putting her even more on edge, and so when she rounded the corner and saw movement, her heart jumped clean into her mouth.
She was smart enough to bite down her scream, knowing it would only cause her more trouble, and she was lucky she did. Her phantom was just a raccoon resting lazily at the head of the stairs, its head half-buried in another empty can of food.
Natalie breathed a sigh of relief, forcing a chuckle to lighten her mood. The raccoon, noticing her presence, rose up with its prize still wrapped around its muzzle. Casually, it shook its head free, and set the container spinning down the stairs. As the aluminum bounced off the wood, the echoes seemed impossibly loud.
Her body froze, all of her attention glued to the can now skittering to a halt at the base of the stairs. Slowly, she cocked her ear toward the front of the house, listening for a change in the rhythm.
slap scratch... slap
That was it. The sound stopped. Natalie strained her ears to catch anything, but all she could pick up was her own tense breathing and erratic heartbeat. The house was silent, which meant the zombie was probably listening for something more.
They were mindless when
they were already on the hunt, but they could be dangerously intuitive when it came to finding new prey. It hadn't already broken down her door, so it didn't know where the sound came from. That was good, but Natalie knew it would wait for her indefinitely unless something else drew it away, and that wasn't likely to happen.
She couldn't ignore it, and she couldn't count on it wandering off. She had no choice; she was going to have to deal with it. Fighting back was a bad idea, but she might be able to lure it into the house. Then she could climb out onto the tree from upstairs, get down to the ground level, and disappear to someplace safer. The hard part would be getting its attention without putting herself in danger.
Throughout all her contemplation, the raccoon rested on its haunches, watching her curiously before turning away and ambling down the stairs to further investigate the snack it had dropped. As it made its way, Natalie realized her solution was already here.
The raccoon would make noise digging in the can, the walker would come in after it, and then she could make her way out. It might even follow the little beast out of the house and off somewhere far away. Natalie allowed herself a smile at the thought.
"Come on, you little bastard. You got me into this, you can get me out." The words came out as barely more than a whisper. She was crouched at the corner of the hallway that marked the top of the stairs, ready to back out to her room and escape. She just had to make sure the raccoon would hold up its end of the deal, and then she would be gone.
For the briefest moment, it actually felt like everything was going according to plan. Her uninvited house guest had resumed his nosing of the can, and a split-second later, she heard a growl from outside. After that, everything happened more quickly than she'd been ready for.
The zombie didn't slow down as it collided with the front door, tearing it clean from its place and sending wood splinters showering over the ground. Swatches of its skin caught in the frame, peeling away like rotten fruit and exposing the hardened muscle beneath.
The raccoon, unfazed as it had been in the face of a young woman, turned and shot straight up the stairs at the sight of this new intruder. The monster snapped to attention, following the sound of the scampering animal, and made eye contact with a briefly stunned Natalie.
"Shit."
Natalie moved faster than she ever had, springing up and sprinting into the bedroom. She slammed the door shut in the hopes that it might buy her some time, but she knew it wouldn't hold that ghoul back for more than a moment. Unable to afford hesitation, Natalie ran to the window and began her climb out.
She was barely halfway across the branch when the door burst open behind her. She could hear something coming closer and the sharp, wet intake of breath as it launched itself out of the room in an attempt to catch her. It clipped her shoulder and took her off balance, but the zombie had missed its mark and fallen to the ground below.
Natalie only had a moment to prepare herself. She was slipping, and there was no doubt in her mind that she would fall soon. Her would-be hunter was dazed but recovering quickly, and she was down to her last option.
She had tried distraction. Now, all she had left was to at least try and go down swinging. For the first time in a long while, she felt a cool sense of calm wash over her.
This was it. There was nothing left to worry about, nothing more to fear. She didn't know if she was going to win or lose, but the fight was coming either way. With one hand on her crowbar, Natalie let go.
Her landing made enough noise to give the wretch something to run toward, but she was ready. Her weapon whipped up and struck the creature squarely on its jaw, shearing along bone and oozing flesh with sickening ease.
Natalie’s brief spat of triumph was cut short as she realized her mistake. She hadn't anticipated its momentum, and even with her blow the blighter kept moving forward, shoving her down as it came crashing over her. One cheek was split along the line her crowbar had drawn, twisting its visage into a ghastly scream, but it didn’t seem to notice the wound when its prey was so deliciously near.
Immediately, Natalie clamped her mouth shut as it slavered over the metal rod she held between its teeth like a horse's bit. Spit, blood and mucus slopped down across her face in rivers, spattering over her goggles and nearly blinding her. All she could see were bloody eyes, half-bugged out of their skull as the zombie strained to push its face closer.
Natalie was going to die. It had leverage, and while she had her knees braced against its shoulders to keep it from getting any closer, it didn't matter. All it needed to do was get a little fluid into her, and it wouldn't need to bite. Her eyes were protected and her mouth was shut, but she still had to breathe. If anything got through her nose, she'd die just the same as if she'd let it tear open her throat.
Suddenly, Natalie felt its weight shift. The beast was trying to use its legs to push the advantage, but one of them had been twisted in the fall from the second floor. Under renewed pressure, the bone finally gave way, and Natalie was presented with the perfect opportunity to shove the ghastly thing to her side and roll away.
In a heartbeat she was back on her feet, and despite her vision being blurred, she could see well enough to know where she was aiming. She brought the crowbar down hard, punching clean through the monster's eye socket and out the back of its skull, pinning it to the earth beneath.
There was no time to revel in her victory. Wiping her face and goggles off as best she could, Natalie searched for another attacker, already wrenching the crowbar out of the tainted remains beside her. She was angry now and ready to take on the world if she had to. This had been the first time she'd ever had to go toe-to-toe with one of the undead, and coming away victorious made her feel invincible. She'd never felt this way before, and she liked it.
But for all of her vigor, there was nothing left to pursue. Natalie was alone again. The other bastard remained stuck in the deck window, thrashing to get out but seemingly pinned. It was over, at least for now. Abruptly, she felt her adrenaline high come crumbling down.
Natalie tried to steady herself, but she couldn't get her body back under control. It was like all of the energy she had was gone, and now she was acutely aware of how badly she was shaking. The effect worsened when she took a minute to realize how close she had come to dying.
This had been a close call. If she wasn't more careful next time, she might not get lucky again.
Then she started laughing, harder than she could ever remember, and she kept going until she couldn't breathe.
"Lucky. I got lucky with this. A raccoon almost gets me killed, I barely win a fight with one of these things, and to top it all off I'm covered in something foul that smells like absolute ass and I walk away calling that lucky. This is a joke. This is a joke and I'm actually laughing. Oh Christ, I'm losing my mind out here."
Natalie was exhausted, resting on her back in the grass and staring at the sky. Somewhere, her instincts were screaming for her to move, but she didn't care. This was going to be her minute.
Soon enough, she'd be back at it, trying to find some new hideout since the door on hers was busted. She wouldn't have to go far, one of these houses would probably do, but it felt like one of the hardest jobs of her life. Laying down under the sun, watching clouds go by... this was a life worth living. Getting up meant going back to the real world.
Slowly, she pushed herself back to her feet. There were a handful of things she needed to do, but right then, there was only one that was on her mind. Finding her resolve, she strode across the street toward the barricaded house, feeling a pinpoint of anger at the creature she knew was trapped there. Crowbar in hand, Natalie took the stairs to the deck.
The zombie in the window, sensing her approach, was shaking harder to get free and resume its hunt. She couldn't get to its head, but the legs were wide open, and she'd take any advantage she could get.
A dull crunching sound was the only noise made as she brought the metal down across each of the trapped hunter's knees. Once, twice, and a th
ird time for good measure, until the sound of breaking bones was replaced with the muffled squish of meaty pulp.
Glancing through the gaps in the boards, she could see what had kept the walker occupied for so long. As it had forced its way past the broken glass and between the wooden panels, it had attempted to pull at a nearby bookcase to bring it all the way through. Instead, the furniture had tipped down and crushed its arm against the floor, wedging it down at such an odd angle that it removed virtually all of the leverage the ghoul had gained. It was left with one usable arm and its legs flailing uselessly out of the window, its torso caught trying to squeeze through the small opening. Perfectly set up for an easy kill.
For a moment, Natalie considered using the crowbar to tear down the boards covering the entrance in order to make her way inside. Then an image of how easily an assailant had gone through her own unfortified door flashed through her head, and she thought better of it.
Stepping back to survey the house, she remembered the upper floor windows weren’t reinforced. She was sure there was a ladder in the garage of her own hideout that would let her bypass the defenses completely, while saving them for use against the horde.
It took a few minutes, but before long she had returned with a ladder. Now, to her dismay, she was left with a new decision to make.
There were two windows above her. One, still shut and seemingly out of place in its normality. The other, open and with the slightest coat of rust-red about its frame. Natalie felt sick, knowing what she would find up there. She shook her head and tried to focus. For now, she had business to take care of concerning her friend downstairs, so she chose to tackle one problem at a time.
Climbing the ladder to the closed window, she found she could open it relatively easily from the outside. Apparently, the last occupant had really been sure that his security downstairs would keep out any would-be intruders. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.
The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire Page 2
