First Steps | A Zombie Apocalypse Story (Completed)

Day 13.3

Jerry

The one figure in there was his.

Of course he went to drink. Left me alone to bury their bodies. Left me to bury the body of his own freaking daughter. Such a coward. I always thought Eli was a bit on the passive side, but damn, I didn't know it was that bad. I tighten my fists thinking about what has happened. I march my way toward the entrance of the bar, tearing the door open.

"What the hell, man?" I ask rhetorically, walking straight up to him. He barely glances at me, his eyes bloodshot and teary.

"You are supposed to help me bury the bodies. You should be the one to bury your daughter's body. Not me. You can't put that on me. You can't!" I speak out, my voice trembling as the tears  form in my eyes.

"Just leave me alone, man. Just let me die," he replies, his voice feeble. He takes ahold of the short glass in his hand, which was almost full, sloshing across the brim as he raised it to his parched lips. I stand still in silence, my stature tense as I look over his pathetic self. I stomp my way over, smacking the glass out of his hand as he begins to bring it down to the surface. A loud crash  sounds, a low shifting noise sounding.

"No. You don't get to die until you tell me what really happened to my family. Then you can do whatever the hell you want. I wouldn't care," I shout, staring him down. A bead of sweat forms on his forehead. He looks at me straight, his eyes wide.

"You're better off not knowing, brother," he replies, surprisingly coherent. I look up at the clock on the wall, probably battery powered given that it is still running. The low ticking fills the tense air.

"What'd you say?"

"You heard me. You wouldn't wanna know," he repeats, standing up and coming close. I could smell the bourbon off his clothes. The sweet honey tones from the drink saturated his breath. I tower over him, yet feel a slight sense of nervousness. My hand travels down to my waistband slowly. Before I know it, he takes ahold of my shirt, headbutting me. I stagger back, not expecting his attack. I recover for a moment, rubbing my aching forehead.

"Ahh!" I yell, charging toward him. I make rough contact with him, shoving him against the wall with as much force as I could muster. I swing my right fist to his face, causing his head to jerk. I fall when he kicks me in the groin, causing me to collapse onto my knees. He begins to run the other way, across the bar, but I manage to snag his ankle before he escapes out of my grip. He falls to the ground, face first, which results in a loud smack against the concrete floor. He looks back at me, blood flowing from a cut on his forehead.

Thunder claps in the background, shaking the floor of the building. We both make our way up from the ground slowly, our stares sharp. A fainter rumble sounds, breaking the tense air. He starts toward me, grabbing ahold of my shirt and landing punch after punch on me. For a short guy, he has some power. I grasp onto his shoulders before raising my knee to his gut, causing him to fall to the ground. I kick him down in his weakened state, coming to his level.

"What happened to my wife and girls?" I ask in a deep voice, my knee on his chest and my hands holding the collar of his tank. All he does is spit in my face, raising my anger. I pull out my hand gun with my right arm before putting it against his temple.

"Tell me!" I scream, pushing the barrel of the gun into his temple further.

"I killed them. You're wife wouldn't let us in, wouldn't help us. I knew you had that supplies," he reveals, causing myself to feel light-headed. I have no words. My pin on him loosens as I process what he said.