Author's note:
Hello, I'm so very glad you clicked on that link somewhere to read this story! If you clicked on said link by accident - well, you're here already, might as well give my story a shot!
This story is in progress, and I'm up to any constructive criticism, comments, questions. Vote if you like, and happy reading! ( :
Thank you.
Charlie out.
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The sun was still rising as I lay still in my sleeping bag. I let myself drown in the pink and yellow light pouring in from the windows. How long has it been since I woke up? How long has it been since we got here? How long has it been since this whole thing started?
Sage, Mick, and I were camped out in the middle of the kitchen. The food was here, the knives and weapons were all here.
I shivered. My sleeping bag was warm enough, but it wasn't enough to keep the chills from creeping up my spine. It was silent outside. Almost too silent. I tried to distract myself by thinking of what the morning usually sounded like before all this - cars and buses whizzing by, birds cooing - no, it was too painful to remember. So I lay there.
A while later (half an hour? an hour? or just five minutes?), I thought I heard something. Was it...music? It was carefree and had a swinging beat to it, and a muffled deep voice was singing along. Of course. It was the radio alarm clock.
The radio alarm clock was Mick's only prized possession, and it was always tuned to the jazz channel. If Sage or I ever tried to listen to anything else - well, I never really tried, probably because I knew that Mick would throw me to the zombos without thinking twice.
I turned my head sideways and looked up. The music was growing louder - it was one of those annoying alarms that creeped up in volume until you hit the snooze button. At that moment, the only thing that crossed my mind was one of the first few things I learned about a week ago, during my first encounter with them: zombies are attracted to loud sounds. We never turned up the radio past the halfway mark on the dial. I needed to turn the darn thing off.
I tried to jump up but forgot that I was still in my sleeping bag and ended up tipping over and falling across Mick, who was on the floor beside me. My arms were pinned to my side and I couldn't budge.
So there I was, lying across Mick's legs and kind of just stuck there.
"Sage! Mick!" I whispered. "Sage! Turn off the alarm!"
On Mick's other side, Sage was draped over the couch, which she had dragged over to the kitchen last night. She was the one who had set the alarm. Her dirty blond hair shifted in a tangled halo as she rolled over to face me. I didn't know how she could still look so pretty during an apocalypse. Her eyelids fluttered and she mumbled, "Huh?"
"Turn off the alarm!" I said a little more loudly this time, still sideways on top of Mikk.
She frowned and squinted, her bright blue-gray eyes scrutinizing me. "Can you chill? And why is the jazz turned up so loud? The zombos are going to hear - oh!" Her hands flew to her mouth as her eyes widened in realization. She scrambled out of her sleeping bag and dug under the cushion of the couch for the radio clock.
"Wait! It's not here!" She shrieked, her arm rummaging the couch.
"Shush!" I told her.
She didn't listen. Instead, she started jumping up and down, her hair flying behind her. "They're coming! They're coming! Oh, Riley, we're going to DIE!"
"Can you get me out of my bag first?"
"Where is the radio clock?!" She ignored me.
"Um, Sage?"
"Shut up, Riley. I'm trying to listen for it!" She stopped jumping. She was telling me to shut up?
Sage stood there for a second and scrunched up her eyebrows. I followed her eyes as they trailed to me. No, under me. She quickly rolled me off Mick and I got a face full of kitchen tiles. "Ow!" I complained.
My face was still smooshed against the floor when -
"Damn you, Mick!" Sage hissed. I turned my head and looked over. She was in hysterics - I should know, she used to babysit me - and was now kicking Mick in the ribs. No mercy.
Mick finally sat up slowly and yawned. "Will y'all just turn it down?" He looked up at Sage and glared. "And why are you kicking me?" He got out of his sleeping bag - and there sat the radio clock.
Sage picked up the blaring radio clock from under Mick's pillow in a flash and smashed it on the floor. There was a loud shatter as plastic pieces flew everywhere. Then, silence.
Sage's eyes widened as she realized what she had just done. It wasn't because Mick was going to kill her - that didn't matter now. We had just lost our only connection to the outside world, our only chance at finding other survivors.
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<b> yes, I changed it. It's not as loud or crazy as it first was, but now that I think of it, it does make sense ... I hope. Anyways, big thank yous to GenXblogger and lildani for your input!</b>
YOU ARE READING
Zombos
Humor14-year-old Riley Coulton is caught up in a zombie apocalypse. Right now, he's on the run with his next door neighbour, Sage, and a half-drunk hobo. Their only goal is to stay alive and maybe get out of the country. Easier said than done.