Doomsday

Chapter 2

     We drove through the suburban side streets to avoid the blocked off main road, I assumed most of the chaos would reside there. We decided to go back to my place to make sure my sister and mom are okay.
     It feels like the whole city is going crazy. We just saw some people breaking into other peoples houses and stealing their TVs like a block back. All hell has broken loose.
     Andrew and I haven't spoken much ever since I started driving, he's been fixated on the horrors going outside with wide fearful eyes. I mean, what was there to really talk about? We just saw a lot of people we knew die tonight. I think we were both in shock of what we just witnessed.
     Finally, Andrew broke the silence, "Willow, can I talk to you about something?"
     I already knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. He's been trying to get me to talk to him ever since what happened between us. I refused to even look in his direction at times.
     I looked at him, he had sad, longing eyes. I've always remembered him having those puppy dog eyes. Those eyes that used to make me melt at every glance. Now, I feel nothing.
     "What is it?" I ask.
     "I want to talk about what happened." He replied.
     I rolled my eyes and sighed. "There's nothing to talk about, Andrew."
     "Please, Willow. You know that isn't the truth." He pleaded.
     "Then tell me, what is the truth then?" I raised my voice, getting slightly defensive.
     "Mackenzie set me up. She made me—"
     "Do you know how stupid you sound right now?" I said,cutting him off.
     "Why won't you just listen to me?"
     "Because everything that comes out of your mouth is bullshit. All you do is lie." I snapped. "How am I supposed to believe a word you say?"
     Andrew looked down at his lap, defeated. I know it sounds harsh but I want him to hurt just as much as he hurt me.
     I turn left at the next street and slow down. Andrew and I forget about our conversation and pause in utter shock at the sight before us, an entire crashed plane on my street that left a trail of destroyed roofs of many of my neighbors homes. All that remained of the aircraft was the middle section where the wings were attached, but one wing was partially broken off. The tail of the plane was about 100 feet away, burning away the contents inside. The cockpit, however, was not too far away with shattered front windows and charred bodies still strapped inside, burning away what was left of them. I watched in horror as the blackened bodies rolled their heads around. This is impossible, they should be dead after that impact...
     "Oh my God." I whispered, as I carefully drove around the tragic accident. The small circular windows of the plane appeared to smeared with what looked like blood. The thought of people trapped in the air as this chaos broke out made my stomach churn.
     "They're all dead." Andrew said in disbelief.
     Debris littered the entire block, getting picked up and swept away by the cool wind. We drove slowly drive around the tail of the flaming plane and pass the horrors that it left behind, eventually pulling up to my house, a small 1-story house with yellow chipped paint and a sinking roof due to termites. This was home. It wasn't much but it's a roof over our heads.
     The debris from the plane crash was lodged into the orange tree in our front yard, but surprisingly, the oranges were still in tact and none of the branches were damaged.
    Thanks to that tree, we had oranges to eat when we had no money to feed ourselves. Although we never really watered it, still it somehow stayed alive. I've always considered it our lucky tree.
     I pull into the driveway and shift the car into park. We got out and shut the car doors, weary about our surroundings, and made our way up the cracked, concrete pathway to my house. We walked up the old, creaky steps up to the porch where my mother's white rocking chair was broken and laying on its side. She loves smoking her morning cigarette in that chair, especially when she's hungover, which is all the time, but why was it broken?
     I paused in front of the front door. My heart raced. It was slightly open. My stomach dropped. Why was it open? Why was it open? I couldn't bring myself to open the door just yet. The thought of the horrors that await inside terrify me. What if they left without me? What if maybe...
     "Willow, we shouldn't stay outside for too long." Andrew stated, interrupting my thoughts.
     "Right." He had a point. I looked down, took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open.
     The door squeaked as it opened, "Mom?" I called. "Charlotte?" Stepping inside the house, Andrew followed and closed the door behind him, locking it.
     The furniture was displaced, the little table that we put our keys on next to the door was knocked over, the couches were crooked, as if someone bumped into them, and some of the picture frames on the walls have fallen to the ground.
     "Mom, Charlotte." I called again. We walked closer to the living room, past the kitchen. Nothing there.
     Thump!
     Our heads snap in the direction of the mysterious sound. Andrew and I look at each other and then Charlotte's door. We slowly made our way to her door, past the blood smeared walls, twisting the doorknob to her bedroom and pushed it open. Her window was wide open and her sheer, light pink curtains danced as they blew with the light wind. Andrew flipped the light switch, but nothing happened.
     Great.
     "Char?" I said, in a small voice.
     A low rumble emerged from a hunched over shadow in the corner of the room, next to Charlotte's white nightstand, its back turned to us.
     "Mom?" I whispered, shakily. A lump formed in my throat as I squinted my eyes, trying to figure out who or what it is.
     The shadow slowly turned around, going down on all four, co​​ntorting it body as it inched closer. It's long, wet, black hair hung in front of it's face. It wore a white nightgown stained and torn with blood all over the abdomen area, kind of like the ones my mom wears.
     This thing stood up on its 2 feet and straightened up, wobbling as if it were struggling to stay upright. My heart dropped.  It was clear that this wasn't just anyone.
     It was my mom.
     "Mom?" I asked in disbelief.
     She threw her head back and let out a horrifying scream, lunging at me.
     I backed away, bumping into Andrew.
     Get out of the way!
     I couldn't take my eyes off of my mom. They got her. They fucking got her. But how. Was she drunk and unable to protect herself?
     Tears began to blur my vision. I begin to breathe faster my chest heaving up and down. A sob escaped my lips as I backed away slowly. I didn't even recognize her anymore. Her jaw was hanging from her face, swinging every time she snapped at me. Her ribs were exposed through a rip in her gown, her insides black. It looked like she was rotting from the inside out.
     How is she even alive right now?
     "Mom?" My voice trailed. "Please, stop." I sobbed.
    Suddenly, I felt like I was 9-years old again, begging my mom to stop drinking. I couldn't move. I wanted her to snap out of it so bad, but she kept limping and snarling towards me like I was her prey.
     "Mom..."
     She grabbed my wrist. I tried to pull away but she wouldn't budge.
     "Let go of me! Mom, stop!"
     She tightened her grip and growled in my face. I couldn't stop looking at her jaw hanging from her face, her breath reeked. I gagged and grunted, struggling to pull her weight off of me.
     She growled. "Stop!" I cried. "Mom, stop!" I begged and I begged, but she still snapped at me.
     "Willow!" Andrew cried, as I crumpled under the pressure of my own mother being lost in an infection. Losing all her humanity, nothing behind those bloodshot eyes, no color. No pupil, no iris, just pure white. She was gone. There was nothing I could do.
     My mind wandered as I struggled. It felt as though time slowed down. I thought about Charlotte, my younger sister. My mind flashed back to us giggling outside in the garden of our childhood house, as the butterflies around us fluttered gracefully. Charlotte's laughs were like music to my ears as a monarch butterfly landed on her nose, tickling her. Back then, she was significantly younger than I was, she was a toddler and I was around 12 years old.  At that moment, I realized I loved my sister more than anything in the world.
     "Willow!" Andrew pulled my mother off of me. I snapped out of this trance-like state and immediately thought of Charlotte, and how scared she must be right now. I thought of her innocent laugh and how she has only one dimple on her cheek when she smiles. Then I remembered the times my mother would yell at her to clean the house when she was drunk, or when she would hit her with a belt when I would do the chores for her.
     It infuriated me.
     My sisterly instincts kicked into overdrive. I thought of my mom trying to hurt her whenever she made a "mistake", even though she's a kid and doesn't know any better. My blood began to boil. She's probably terrified right now because of her. Hiding. Hiding like she would when my mom would get blackout drunk and come torment us. I found the courage in me to fight back. As much as it hurt to see my mother try to hurt and bite me, it is my duty as a big sister to protect her with my life.
     My heart began to race with anger. My face started turning bright red with pure animosity. I thought about all the time he neglected me growing up, choosing the bottle over her own kids. I thought about all the time she would come home drunk, taking out all her week's stress and anger on me. I thought about how I was forced to be the sole provider to not only Charlotte but of the house as well. I picked up 2 jobs to help pay for the bills when my mother would be knocked out, intoxicated on the couch.  I thought about all the memorable high school events I missed because I had to grow up too fast.
     I screamed and grabbed the fallen lamp next to me on the ground, swinging it and hitting her hard on the temple as she lunged at me a second time. I flinched as blood splattered onto my face. Her body fell limp to the ground but I didn't stop there. I got on top of her and began smashing her head over and over and over again. I couldn't stop. I thought of every single bad thing that she has ever done to me, fueling me to keep smashing her head in.
     "I fucking hate you!" I screamed at her mutilated corpse, sobbing after, finally dropping the bloody lamp, making a loud clank. Tears streamed down my face. My entire body was trembling. I put my face into my hands, wiping, more like smearing, off some of the blood that splattered onto my face.
     I stood up as the door behind us slowly creaked open. I quickly grabbed the bloody lamp off the ground once again. My heart ached so furiously, it felt like it was going to shrivel up like a raisin.
     What if I have to kill Charlotte too?
     It opened wider, then pushed open all the way. Behind the door frame, I noticed small streaks of shiny blonde hair. Suddenly, pops out a set of big, brown eyes with long blonde eyelashes, with a fearful expression.
     The weight of the world lifted from my shoulders. Tears welled in my eyes and fell fast and quick. "Charlotte?" My voice broke.
She hesitated at first, but then came out of hiding.
I set the lamp on the floor went to go in for a hug but she took a step back. "What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.
She fiddled with the sleeves of the her green sweatshirt that she took from me a couple months back, staring down at my mother's mutilated corpse with wide eyes then back at me. She looked down at her feet. "You're covered in her blood." Charlotte whispered.
I look down at my jeans and long sleeve shirt, it was almost entirely covered in dark, almost black, blood. My mother's blood. My black and white Converse only had a couple drops of blood on them.
I look back at her. "I'm sorry." I said. "Is there anyone else here?"
She shook her head.
I sighed. "Okay. Um, I'm going to change. Andrew, can you make sure all the door are locked?"
"Yep." He nodded and went off to lock the front door.
I turned to Charlotte. "Go pack a bag. Bring anything important." She nodded, but then paused. "What do I do about...?" She said, turning her gaze back to Mom.
     "Don't look at her. Face the other way." I said, taking off one of the bedsheets of my sister's bed, and gently covering my mom's corpse. Her blood slowly bled through the thin fabric.
     "Okay..." She said, carefully stepping over her blood speckled toys that littered the floor and went over to her closet, shuffling through her things.
I walked out of Charlotte's room slowly, feeling defeated. Walking past Andrew, our hands brushing ever so slightly. I go down the hallway, past my mom's, now empty room, then finally to mine. I turned the knob with my bloody hand and pushed it open, the door quietly creaking.
What does all this mean? Why is everyone getting sick? Do we have to leave? Can we stay here? What are we going to do? What am I going to do?
I close the door behind me and walked towards my mirror.
That's when it hit me.
I look like a completely different person. There was so much blood stained on my clothes. I didn't realize how bad it was until now.
Who am I?
Just a few hours ago, I was at prom taking pictures for extra credit, and now look at me. My mom's blood is on my hands.
     Pictures...
     My camera!
     It's still at school, in the gym, where all the chaos began.
     I couldn't help but cry. Not only is my mom gone, but my camera is gone too. This is the camera my dad gave me it before he left. It's full with all the best memories,back when life was still sort of fun and exciting. And now, it's all gone.