Rise of The Unseen

Left Behind

Benny sat on the worn-out couch in his small living room, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the floor. He had been waiting for his mom all day, ever since she hastily hung up the phone, promising she would be back soon for him. He still remembered how her voice was filled with urgency, a reflection of the situation that had gripped their country, maybe even the world. She had told him to stay inside, to lock the doors and windows, and the only thing giving Benny hope was the reassuring hug she had given him that morning.

As the hours ticked by, Benny's initial worry gradually transformed into a sense of uneasy anticipation. He listened intently for the sound of the front door opening, hoping to hear his mom's voice calling out his name. Every distant noise, every creak of the house, sent a jolt of hope through his heart. But the day turned into evening, and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a somber ambiance over the room.

Benny had spent the day pacing, glancing at the clock, and checking his phone for any messages from his mom. But there was nothing. The hours stretched on, and his anticipation turned into gnawing dread. The darkness outside mirrored the growing darkness in his heart.

He stood by the window, staring out at the quiet street, the emptiness of it all sinking in. The once-familiar sights—the neighbor's house, the old oak tree, the distant streetlamp—had taken on an eerie quality, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting. A part of him hoped that he would see his mom walking down the street, a weary but determined expression on her face, her presence bringing a sense of safety and comfort.

But there was no sign of her. The street remained empty, devoid of any movement or life. Benny's heart sank, and tears welled up in his eyes as he finally faced the painful truth: his mom wasn't coming back. He realized that the world outside was far more dangerous than he had comprehended, that the risks his mom faced were far greater than he could fully understand. The weight of that realization settled on his shoulders, a heavy burden that he felt too young to bear.

He sank back onto the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest, as the full weight of his aloneness pressed down on him. He wished he could hear her voice, feel her comforting presence, but it was as if the world had swallowed her up. Benny felt a mixture of fear, sadness, and anger. He didn't want to be alone, not in a world where everything had turned upside down.

As the night deepened, Benny curled up on the couch, holding onto the last sliver of hope. He wished with all his might that his mom would walk through that door, that this would all just be a bad dream. But deep down, he knew that he had to face the reality of the situation. He had to find a way to survive on his own, to navigate the challenges that this new world had thrust upon him.

The room was enveloped in darkness now, the silence broken only by the distant sound of the wind. Benny closed his eyes, exhaustion and sorrow washing over him. Despite the darkness, a flicker of resilience burned within him. He would find a way to endure, to keep moving forward, to honor his mom's love and the lessons she had taught him. He couldn't wait for her any longer, but he would carry her with him as he faced the uncertain path that lay ahead, a path he would navigate alone. Before he fell asleep, he promised himself that he would find his mother and his little brother.

The sun's first rays painted the room in a gentle glow, a welcome contrast to the darkness of the day before. Benny sat on the same couch he had fallen asleep on, mapping out his neighborhood in his mind, realizing that all services had been shut down, which brought an even bigger realization of how serious the whole situation was. His mind was racing as he contemplated his next move in this treacherous world now dominated by the zombie apocalypse.

A sense of responsibility and a desire to survive fueled his determination. He had managed to secure the house as best he could, but supplies were running low, and he needed to make a plan. The previous night, he had listened to the distant sounds of groans and growls, the eerie echoes of danger lurking in the nearby streets.

Benny's gaze lingered on the kitchen behind him. He stood up and reached into the cabinets, searching for food. Then he realized that he should gather essential supplies: canned food, bottled water, first aid kits, and other necessities. But his current situation required a more significant haul, and the best chance lay at the nearest police station, where emergency supplies might still be available.

His reasoning was twofold: first, the police station would likely have a stockpile of useful items, given its role as a central hub for emergency response. Second, it could potentially serve as a defensible location, a stronghold against the encroaching threats.

He reviewed the layout of the neighborhood through his window, carefully considering the safest path to the police station. He needed to avoid high-traffic areas where the risk of encountering zombies was greater. After thinking for a few more minutes, he traced a route in his mind that would take him through back alleys and quieter streets, minimizing the chances of a dangerous encounter.

Next, Benny made a list of the supplies he needed: more food, clean water, extra batteries, a flashlight, additional first aid supplies, and anything else he could find that would be useful for survival. He checked his backpack, which he found under his bed, ensuring it was empty and ready to be filled with these essential items.

As he stared at the list, Benny felt a surge of fear. He knew the risks were high, but he also knew he couldn't stay in the house forever. Supplies were dwindling, and he needed to be proactive if he wanted to survive.

His decision made, he made his way to the door, taking one last look around the room that was fresh with memories of his mother on the couch watching his little brother play, his dad next to them as his sister walked through the door. He felt a mixture of anxiety and anticipation, but he was ready. The world outside was unforgiving, but he had the will to persevere.

Benny slung the backpack over his shoulder, making sure it was secure, and double-checking his makeshift weapons—a sturdy baseball bat he found laying around and a kitchen knife. He knew he had to move quickly and quietly, staying alert to any signs of danger. Don't blame him! He was a huge fan of zombie TV shows and games! He knew just what to do, he had watched The Walking Dead at least 35 times.

Stepping out the front door, he took a deep breath of the morning air, steeling himself for the challenges ahead. The streets were eerily quiet, but he was prepared. He moved with purpose, following the carefully planned route, his senses on high alert.

As he approached the police station, he felt a mix of nervousness and determination. The sight of the building, once a symbol of safety, now represented his hope for survival. He approached cautiously, scanning the area for any signs of movement, any signs of life, or un-life.

With a deep breath, he pushed open the heavy door, the creaking sound echoing through the empty corridors. He stepped inside, ready to face whatever lay ahead, his resolve unwavering as he embarked on this critical mission for supplies, survival, and the uncertain road ahead.

Suddenly he stopped as he heard grunts coming from the cells. His breath quickened; he wasn't expecting to meet the infected so early, and he wasn't sure he could kill one if he had to.

"Fuck you!" He heard a familiar voice. "Marta?" He asked, surprised as he rushed towards the noise.