Apocalypse [1]

Day 1- 12.11pm

Lunch was a bigger issue than Fletcher had imagined. As Celia pointed out to him, they needed to ration food, but when they worked out how long the food they had would last them, Fletcher was in for a nasty shock.

 “A week?” he cried “That’s impossible. This food could feed-”

 “There are fifteen of us, Fletcher. This is assuming we have three meals a day, which of course is out of the question. This lot are looking to us to keep them safe. Meaning you, me, Ewan, Zara and Charlie. We’re the ones who know what we’re doing. At least, they think we do. Anyway, this food will last a while longer if we’re careful. But we haven’t considered other factors. We have nowhere to store it. Most of it will rot within a few days, especially fruit. Food is perishable, Fletcher. We need to think about the future,” Celia told him.

 “So, what do you propose we do?” Fletcher asked, running a hand through his hair.

 “We need to move. Not today, perhaps. But we need to consider going somewhere that we can defend. Somewhere with land to grow crops. Maybe we could rear animals.”

 “What is this? Your little American Dream? No one will go with us. They’ll see it as a suicide mission!” Fletcher argued, trying to keep his voice under control.  He couldn’t help but remember his sister getting annoyed at him for raising his voice when he was arguing.

 “Maybe. We can’t force them. But once they’ve stayed here a few days, they’ll begin to see that this isn’t as safe as they’ve been led to believe. If they stay here, they’ll die here.”

 Fletcher grunted something unintelligible and closed his eyes. It was all too much. He suddenly wished he was someone else, anyone else in the room, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the stress of keeping everyone safe. Celia was right. Everyone was looking to them.

 “Don’t worry, Fletcher. Ewan and I will talk it over. Go and get some food and rest a while.”

 Fletcher nodded, silently thanking Celia for her kindness as he went to join Henry and Lily, who were sat quietly nibbling at their own packed lunches.

 “Hey,” Fletcher said somewhat shyly as he sat beside Lily. She smiled at him, her chocolate coloured eyes capturing his for a moment.

 “How’s it going?” she asked softly.

 “I don’t know really. I’m a bit of a mess at the moment.”

 “I think we all are. So, not much for lunch today then?” she said.  “I see Ewan is only handing out apples.”

 “Apparently so. Everyone will have to make do with what they have. We have to learn to preserve,” Fletcher told them both sadly.

 He took a look around the room and realised that a lot of people were staring enviously at Lily’s sandwich from her lunchbox. She took a bite of it possessively.

 “It’s not my fault I brought lunch. They should have brought their own,” Lily hissed, blushing as so many people watched her.  Fletcher thought she was being unfair. It’s not like they could have known they’d be thrown into a zombie apocalypse when they had left their homes that morning.

 “Yeah. Don’t worry, Lily. Take no notice,” Henry said quickly, sensing tension building up. Fletcher bit his thumb nervously, wanting to change the subject.

 “Did you see where Ewan went?” Fletcher asked.

 “Yeah. He said he didn’t feel well, so he headed for-”

 “Shit,” Fletcher said “What if-”

 “What?”

 Fletcher ignored his friend, grabbing his bat. He began to move the barricade aside.

 “What are you doing?” Celia cried “It’s dangerous!”

 “Don’t let anyone else in,” Fletcher warned.  “You promise? There’s something I need to check.”

 Before she could argue, he slipped out the door into the silence of the corridor. He hadn’t finished listening to what Lily was saying, but he reckoned Ewan would have headed for the bathroom. Every footstep he took felt like a death wish, his trainers squeaking on the linoleum floor as he tried to walk with stealth. His breathing was shallow and he swore anything within a mile radius could hear him.

 The door to the boy’s toilets was ajar. All he could hear was the drip of a tap. Drip. Drip. Drip. He found himself almost unwillingly pushing the door wider and stepping inside. Puddles of water pooled around his feet as he got closer to the dripping sink. All the sinks were filled and overflowing, spilling water on the floor as it gushed from the taps. Then he heard a cough. A splutter. A hack of the lungs. He spun around, trying to locate it, bat raised above his head.  A desperate gasp followed. Before his eyes, blood began to mix with the water, pooling from under the door to one of the cubicles. Fletcher pushed the door open, revealing Ewan lying helplessly on the floor. His body was convulsing, but he appeared to still be human. His body hadn’t decayed yet. He sat up abruptly, thrown forward by a huge cough. Flesh pieces fell from his mouth. He was coughing up his own lungs. He looked at Fletcher with crazed eyes and blood covered teeth, snarling, but trying to hold on to his humanity desperately.

 “Fletcher,” he gagged.  Fletcher didn’t move, his feet glued to the ground as he stared at the adult in horror.  Suddenly, Ewan’s head snapped backwards and he let out a horrifyingly animalistic screech, before throwing himself at Fletcher. They tumbled on the ground, Ewan trying to penetrate his skin with his teeth and nails. Fletcher head butted Ewan in the throat, feeling Ewan choke and spew his innards down his back. With a cry, Fletcher’s bat connected with Ewan’s face, and he watched as Ewan’s teeth and jaw shattered, a spray of blood released as he fell to the ground. Fletcher hit him several more times to make sure he was dead. Only hours before, Ewan had been his saviour. Now he was alone. The deathly silence of the room scared him, and he was almost glad when the tap decided to drip again. He closed his eyes and admitted to himself what he had to admit.

 “We need to get the hell out of here.”