Living on Borrowed Time

Chapter One

The first night the infection hit is a nightmare that keeps playing over and over in my mind. Teeth chomping, dead fingers ripping away the flesh of my loved ones. The unforgettable, blood curdling screams of my mother, father and sister pierce through the blood misted air. I just stood there on top of a vehicle which was splattered with fresh blood. Full of shock, fear and disbelief; all I could do was stand there and watch the horror. The undead clawed at my feet from the ground, but my feet were planted on the roof of that car like a statue. Every time this nightmare occurs it seems like there are more and more zombies in the picture. Zombies? Is 'zombies' the appropriate term? Zombies don't exist, they DIDN'T exist, but now these monsters are very real... too real.

My eyes suddenly open to the sun shinning through my upstairs bedroom window. I'm frightened from my nightmare, panicked and afraid. I sit up and grab my hunting knife off the nightstand and look around the room as I catch my breath. Out of habit I search for danger around the room, searching for zombies, but there are none. I sit up on the edge of the bed, feeling the cool pine wood planks beneath my feet as I take a deep breath and look at my watch, it's 2:37p.m.

"Damn." I scratch my beard that is beginning to get a little lengthy, realizing I slept in way later than usual. Jumping to my feet I head down the upstairs hall, feeling a cool draft that compliments the baby blue painted walls, making me feel a little more at ease. As I step onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor I lift up the toilet seat, then release the flood gates.

After what seemed like forever, my bladder finally emptied. I push down the lever on the side of the pearly white toilet and send the water and urine down the drain, but the bowl doesn't fill back up with water like it should, like it always has. I push the lever a couple more times but nothing happens.

"No..." I sigh as I turn the cold water knob on the sink. No more water. I'm surprised the water stayed on for this long anyway, we got lucky so there's really no room to complain. I just walk back to my bedroom to get dressed for the day, wearily rubbing my blue, middle aged eyes.

Ever since the first night of the infection it's only been me and my fourteen year old nephew David in the house. Today would be day thirty. A full month of total chaos and nobody has come to help. No police, no military, no government... nobody. As far as we know it we're on our own. Me, David and our neighbors the Becketts that is. Our two houses are the only remaining houses in the suburbs that are still safe. All of the other residencies are either surviving elsewhere or dead. If we don't find more supplies soon that's how we're going to end up as well.

"Did you get any sleep?" I ask David.

"A few hours." He replies as he eats canned fruit cocktail. I walk over to our supply cabinet and open it.

"I'm sure you've noticed we're running low on food and water." I stare at what's left: two cans of beans, one can of corn, one can of spam, a can of green beans and six bottles of water. I sigh, close the cabinet and gaze out the kitchen window.

"I don't like it one bit but... I need to go on a supply run today." I tell him. He looks at me momentarily, then back down at the marble countertop of the island in the kitchen.

"Would you like to come with?" I ask. He gives a confused, uncertain expression. "Of course you don't have to, no pressure. I just figured you should learn a thing or two in case... in case things don't go back to normal."

"No I... I wanna go. I'm just surprised you'd allow it." He responds. Suddenly I hear the jingle of tin cans, my warning trap I set up outside.

"Damn." I walk to the front door and throw on my soft brown jacket that's lined with fur around the hood.

"Biters?" David questions.

"Stay inside." I grab my homemade weapon, a broom stick with a large knife taped to the end.

A biter staggers into the street from the far sidewalk. Its shirt is all tattered and there's flesh dangling from its mouth, it must have recently had a feast.

"You bastard." I mutter under my breath as it snarls at me. I raise my weapon, ready to slash at its head but before I know it Johnny Beckett flies by on his skateboard, caving in the biters skull with one swift swing of a hammer.

Johnny Beckett, a former professional skateboarder after thirteen years. Since seventeen years of age he's been making the big bucks. I still don't understand why he chose these suburbs specifically when he eventually decided to settle down. When he was twenty-eight he moved here, only took about a year until he met Sammy, his wife. They've been been happily married for about a year or so... then all of this happened.

"I had him." I tell Johnny as he steps on the end of the board and pops it up into his hand.

"Can't let you do all the work around here." He replies, pushing his unusually long dirty blond hair to the side.

"Looks like you could use a cut." I point at his hair.

"I've had worse." He pushes it aside again as it slowly creeps back in front of his face. "Look..." Johnny says as I look around for other biters.

"Sammy wanted me to ask you something." He explains. I'm quiet for a moment as I gaze off into the distance, spacing out for a moment.

"What is it?" I quietly mumble as a bead of sweat drips from my beard from the unexpected heat of the day.

"Sammy would like to know if you and David would come over tonight for dinner?" He relays her question.

"Dinner?" I question, giving him an uncertain look.

"Well, I know its not under the best circumstances, seeing how the undead are roaming the land but... it would mean a lot to her." He looks me in the eye, almost speaking with a pleading tone. I look down at my spear type weapon, then back at Johnnys house.

"What time?" I ask.

"Should be ready around seven." He replies. "She makes a killer spaghetti."

"Yeah...okay. I'll uh... I'll go talk to David. I still have a few things I need to take care of." I tell him. I walk back to the house, looking back before I open the door. Johnny stands there with what seems like a sympathetic expression. He knows how much David and I have lost... but he doesn't really know. He hasn't lost anything. Sammy is all he really has... and she's still here.