Chapter 1 – Part 1
I always thought that in a moment like this, you would experience an unbelievable rush of adrenaline coupled with an indecently accurate description of everything. I guess I watched too many victims and survivor reports on TV.
The first thing I remember is the touch of a cold hand on my face, which is how I began to awaken. Then I heard my mother's voice, hushed, but with an obvious hint of desperation.
“Get up honey, we have to go”.
I felt too groggy to even contemplate an answer, it was late, but I sat up; aware of the fear in her voice. My mother was at my bedroom door by now. I could hear my father shouting something from the bottom of the stairwell. I jumped to my feet.
“Mom, what the hell is going on” I asked as I grabbed her by the sleeve of her robe, noticing she still had her pyjamas on underneath. Her eyes were wide when she turned to face me. “Get back! Hide!” she whispered hoarsely, and with a ferocious push I didn't think such a small-framed woman could manage, she toppled me over into the room. I felt my head crash into something hard as I fell. I curled up into a ball on the ground, clutching my head, only to see the door closing behind the edge of my mother's robes. I listened helplessly as I heard the key click loudly in the lock.
For the first time I noticed that other people were screaming outside, there were car sirens in the distance, along with alarms from various emergency service vehicles. My attention turned back to the door as I heard my mother let out a wordless scream of terror. I tried to drag myself towards the door, but the pulsing pain in my head was unbearable. It felt like my brain was going to explode. My vision was becoming blurring and my thinking foggy. I felt like I was being sucked underneath a think pool of water. I willed myself to stay conscious. I clutched at my head desperately and began to panic when I felt the warm, sticky mess that my hair had become. The last thing I heard was my father screaming to my mother to run.
I don't know how long I was unconscious. I woke up in daylight on my side covered in dried blood, that had stuck my lips together as it has leaked down my face. My hair just felt like a giant knot. I had the worst headache ever. I didn't even try to get up for the first few minutes. I tentatively rolled on my back and attempted to breath evenly, praying the nausea would pass soon.
I tried to push myself to my knees the second I remembered my mother's screams. Another wave of nausea rushed through me and I almost threw up. I could feel the pulse that my headache was generating.
After a few more minutes of breathing I pushed myself to my knees and used the bed post beside me to pull myself up.
The room was a mess. There was a pool of blood on the patch floor I had just vacated that was only semi-dry. There was also blood on the edge of my dresser, which I presumed had been the offender that ended my fall so tragically.
I walked to the door as quick as I could and tried to open it. I could only vaguely remember my mother previously locking it. I pushed with all my strength and threw all of the little weight I had into the door in an attempt to move it. Nothing. I leaned my nearly pulsating head against the cool wood of the door as I thought about what to do next. I reached for the jewellery box on my dresser and pulled out the spare key to my room. I pushed it into the lock and turned it, but the door still resisted slightly. I pushed harder and it moved, I realised there was something blocking it from the other side. I made enough of a gap so I could squeeze through and immediately I wished I hadn't.
It was a body that had been blocking the door. But not just any body; it was my mother. I fell to my knees and put my hand on her cheek. It was ice cold, she was dead. I think the only reason I didn't cry is because I was in shock.
Eventually I noticed the flecks of blood on the walls and floor, admittedly my mother did look as though she had been injured. I erased the thought from my mind, I couldn't bare to think of someone hurting her. What if whoever had done this is still here I thought? I forced my way back into my room to find a means of self-defence, grabbing a stiletto in desperation. It would have to do for now. I pulled the sheets off of my bed and dragged them into the hall with me to drape them over my mother. I took one last furtive glance at the lumpy sheet and made my way towards the stairs.
There was even more blood on the walls here, and all over the steps, some of the pools weren't even dry. I tread carefully, avoiding any slippery-looking patches.
I held the stiletto up as I reached the bottom of the steps, wary that my mother's killer could easily spring out from the doorway on my right.
My heart was racing as I slowly pushed the living-room door open. The room was empty, no murderer. I quietly made my way to the kitchen, and held my breath as the door drew open ahead of me. Again, no murderer. I checked the back door, it was locked. I sighed with relief.
I felt so ridiculous when I realised that I had walked straight past my parents room an didn't check it. I swapped the stiletto for a carving knife, and checked the front door, which was also locked, as I made my way back upstairs.
I stopped for a second at the head of the stairs, reluctant to turn and see the lumpy sheet lying in the hallway again. I turned in one quick step and faced my parents bedroom door at the end of the hall. I stepped over the sheet and reached out to open the door, I paused again, This was the only room left, the killer had to be in here right? The front and back doors were closed, unless they jumped out a window they had to be in here. I swung the door open swiftly, attempting ta catch anyone who might be inside off guard. I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding as I realised the room was also empty.
After calling my dad's cellphone, for what felt like the hundredth time, I gave up. He just wouldn't answer. I was really worried about him, he was always here, he was unemployed for god's sake, he had very few other places to go. Unless he was the one who... No way, I felt guilty for even thinking about it, Dad would never hurt anyone, let alone Mom.
I figured the best thing to do was keep my energy up and then take a shower, so I switched on the TV as I reached for a box of cereal. I stopped mid-pour to listen to the emergency broadcast issuing from the television.
The screen was filled with 'Emergency Alert System' and a scrolling message overhead. The message read “A public state of emergency has been declared, please stay inside and lock all doors and windows”. I turned the set up to hear the broadcast more clearly.
“The government no longer has the means to contain this viral epidemic and has declared a state of emergency. Please do not leave your home and lock all doors and windows. Those who have been infected by the virus are considered extremely hostile, and all member of the public are being urged to avoid all contact with the infected”.
I suddenly found I was no longer hungry. I grabbed the carving knife and bolted upstairs to change out of my pyjamas. I was pulling on a pair of thick boots when I heard a small creak on the stairwell. My breath caught in my throat. There couldn't be anyone here I checked. I felt the urge to call out, classic-horror-movie-style, and ask who was there. But I wasn't stupid.
I tightened my grip on the knife and waited, not even daring to breathe. I was just about to exhale when I hear it; another creak, this time at the entrance to the hall, near my mother's body.
My heart started beating so loud it seemed to fill my entire being. I think my heart almost stopped when the door began to swing open slowly.
The first thing I saw were feet, with think black boots on, like mine. I pulled my gaze up quickly and found myself staring into the almost sickly-looking pale face of a boy my age with dark brown hair and eyes that seemed to be tinted red. The Emergency Alert System broadcast rushed through my mind and I knew that this had to be one of the infected.
I jumped to my feet and brandished the knife at him.
“Get back!” I warned him.
For a second he didn't make any response to indicate he had heard me, then, really slowly he smiled.
“You can put down the knife”. His voice was soft and polite. “I don't want to hurt you”.
I stepped back, very aware that this was exactly what he would say regardless of whether he wanted to hurt me or not.
“Please but it down”, he sounded tired. “You look confused, I can give you answers”.
This made me lower the knife a fraction. “What do you mean answers?” I asked hoarsely as my mouth seemed very dry all of a sudden.
“Well, I can tell you where your father is, not to mention where everyone else is. Oh and I can also ' explain this whole 'infected' thing.” He had started to smile a little again as though he found this all rather amusing.
My voice shook as I worded a reply “the 'infected', that means they're zombies, right?”. I felt as though I definitely seen too many movies. He nodded slightly. I felt my chest tighten with fear. I gripped the knife so hard it hurt as I asked, “Are you infected?”. At least I'd seen enough movies to know what to do if he was infected.
“Oh, no, no, no” he waved a hand in the air as though waving away an insect, while at the same time walking toward the bed beside me to take a seat, “I'm a vampire”.
