A Zombie Story

Chapter 2: Painful Plea

[A/N: This is still the same story. I swear. This chapter is not a mistake.]

August 6th, Sunday, 7:21 a.m., Cedar Avenue.

A van covered in solar panels stopped under the narra tree just beside the road where few zombies roamed.

“Still, you’re really brave, huh, Franklin. I don’t think I’d ever eat meat for the rest of my life.” Said Adara to her oldest brother. They were inside the van, eating. She and Jimmy were having boiled sweet potatoes while Franklin had some rabbit jerky.

The three of them had the same shade of auburn hair that they pulled into a low pony and the same hooded, brown eyes. There was definitely no denying they were siblings.

“Why? It’s a good source of protein and last time I remember, you were such a bacon fiend.”

“Well, eating meat has been fun till you’ve become one of the meat. Plus can’t you see those things outside? They’re all just a walking sack of decaying meat.”

“Enough, Adara. Let other people eat.” It was Jimmy, an ex-military, and the middle sibling. “Though I’m more surprised you could still read that kinda story in times like this.”

“Of course, because if I don’t, I would have lost my mind a long time ago.”

As a form of escapism, Adara liked to read novels and comics she hoarded from a few abandoned bookstores they passed along the way. The reason why Jimmy criticized her just now was because she was reading about a zombie apocalypse that took place in an alternate universe. He found it weird and, well, depressing.

“Hm… Whatever you say.” Jimmy dismissed her before he added, “I’ll take a nap. Don’t disturb me.” Then he went ahead and curled into the corner near the driver’s seat and closed his eyes.

She continued to eat and read in silence when she suddenly thought about something.

“Say, Franklin. What do you plan on doing exactly? You’ve been weird, you know?”

“Weird? How so?” Franklin asked her back as he struggled to snap the jerky in half. “Geez! You didn’t replace it with a rubber tire, did you, Adara?”

“Why would I? That’s rude of you, Franklin. Besides, you’ve been acting less and less yourself lately. I even start to wonder if you’re still our brother and not some, you know, doppelganger.”

Franklin put down the jerky and stared at her. “Don’t I look like your brother to you?” He said that with an unusual kind of seriousness.

For some reason, Adara felt fear towards him. “Haha. I… I don’t mean it that way. Look, why don’t we finish eating already so we can have a rest? We stayed up all night, remember?” She didn’t understand it either but she was getting defensive. And she was painfully aware of it.

She downed her already cold coffee and said in a slightly higher pitched voice than her normal, “Ha! Pulling an all nighter must surely have taken a toll on me, huh. I’m more tired than usual.” Then she scooted near Jimmy, laid down, and made the thick novel as her pillow. That was when she met Jimmy’s eyes.

He lightly shook his head at her and despite not saying anything, she definitely understood what he was trying to tell her. ‘Don’t provoke him.’

***

August 6th, Sunday, 8:51 a.m., Eldorado City.

Inside an abandoned mall on the second floor, Finn lay unmoving. Whoever saw him would undoubtedly say he was already dead but in that instance, his eyes suddenly opened.

He was greeted by a bloody, decapitated head staring straight at him.

“G—George, is that you?” His voice was coarse and his throat hurt so much. He wondered how George was in the exact place that he was. He was his high school bully who never once apologized to him.

And as he held the head of his high school bully, a mix of conflicting emotions flooded his mind. Uncertain about how to process this strange situation, he mustered the strength to toss it aside. However, the moment he released it, a searing pain coursed through his ribs, legs, thighs, and neck, overwhelming his entire being with a relentless ache.

“Arrrgh! Sh*t! Stupid c*cksucker!” He couldn’t help but curse as he curled into a ball. He pressed his palm to his side in hopes the action would reduce the pain but he was surprised by what he felt instead. An exposed ribs with crusty bits of dried blood surrounding it. A large chunk of flesh was missing. “What the heck happened to me?”

He just noticed the flesh in his limbs was brutally ripped apart—like ground meat. His clothes were torn, and he had difficulty breathing, as though there was a hole in his throat. But there was, in fact, a hole in his throat. It was a surprise he even managed to speak at all.

It was at that moment the memories from last night resurfaced in his head.

‘Ah… I’m all f*cked now, aren’t I?’ He thought. ‘Yeah, very f*cked.’

For a couple minutes, he just stayed there, lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

He realized there were only two outcomes awaiting for him: (1) Turning into a zombie within 48 hours or less, or (2) dying from infection.

The two only lead to doom but he thought he could still do something about the latter. There was nothing he could do about the first one. He could only surrender to his faith.

“A’right! To the hospital then.” He declared as he let out another string of curses as he pushed himself up. “You son of dehydrated c*m bubble!”

His whole body hurt like crazy. It screamed with the slightest action. Every breath, every movement, and even the wind that caused the flesh around his exposed ribs to move brought him indescribable pain he felt like tearing up.

“Oh, please. Just let me see my brother one last time.” He pleaded to no one in particular.