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Writer with awesome face furniture. Dabbles with the ukelele.

Saturday, 19 July 2014

Dead End

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven. No twelve yet?

“I told you” I shout into the darkness “I told you I would still be here”

There’s no answer from the other side of the locked door, the deafening silence annoys me more than the screams in my head.

Perhaps they are all dead?

They should have listened to me before we went looking for food, I told them not to go out after six as the light fades quickly especially here around the towers of Manhattan, who knows how many of them are in those skyscrapers now? Watching us from above like Gods deciding the fates of us mere mortals?

We never stood a chance.  

Their must have been at least 50 of them rampaging through the streets. I know Nick was the first one they got too, he tried to pull them off but his hands just tore away the skin on their arms then for a second they seemed harmless, until they bit him then their dead lifeless eyes turned red and Nick’s screams woke you up, back to reality, back to fear.

I wonder if they are all dead behind this door? I’m sure my wife and daughter were with me when we ran. Yes, yes they were, I remember pushing them back into the house and bolting the door as quick as I could.

But now I’m stuck in here like a rat in a cage.

“Open the fucking door”

Silence again.

Cramp starts in my legs and arms, chest feels like a vice tightening. I try to move to another positions but the space is limited and I know it will only be a short relief.

I bang on the door.

“Annie? Helen? Can you hear me?”

“Daddy?"

Was that a voice I heard?

“Daddy, are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine” I shout into the darkness.

I hear the lock being turned and the door is opened, a shaft of bright light burns my eyes. It takes a moment for them to adjust but I’m greeted by the sight of my daughter’s face.

“Are you alright?” 

She only nods.

“What about Mum?

Her tears tell me all I need to know.

I hug her tight not wanting to let go then I spot the bite marks on my arm.

Pushing my daughter away I force myself back in the box.

“Shut the door darling” 

“Daddy, I’m so scared”

“I know, but you have to shut the door and not open it again, understand?”

She nods.

“Remember I love you very, very much”

The door shuts and locks.

I feel the pain of cramp getting worse and my mind is becoming cloudy, that can only mean one thing but I hope my Daughter will be ok.

The clock starts to strike again but I’m not going to make it to twelve, I’m not even going to make it to……………


This story was written for the 2014 zombie apocalypse flash fiction contest.



3 comments:

  1. Wow, great story. Oh the pain the infected must feel as they shut out the living. Thanks for entering, Michael!

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  2. Wow, heartbreaking. I love it.

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  3. That would take strength! Great stuff!

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