~the undead Diaries~ (re-editing!!)

bonding

After he disappeared from earshot, I decided to take a look in the attic. Climbing up the ladder, I pushed open the heavy door to the attic, and I was greeted by a mix of dust and the distinct smell of old wood. The space was filled with boxes piled high and bags stuffed to the brim, but amidst the clutter, I discovered a treasure trove of supplies. There were clothes in all sizes, both male and female, neatly folded and stacked, along with toiletries that seemed to cater to everyone's needs. Extra pillows and blankets were stashed away in one corner, and I spotted an array of other essential items scattered throughout the space.

Once I had taken a good look around, I descended the attic ladder, my mind already racing with ideas for dinner. I contemplated making a big feast but thought that was to much for just he two of us on the first night. After some thought, I settled on making a simple yet hearty potato soup — perfect for a cozy evening.

With my mind made up, I made my way to the kitchen. The warm, inviting scent of spices and ingredients filled the air as I prepped my workspace, eager to start cooking and create a fulfilling meal for Brodey and me.

After we finished our dinner preparations, I called out to Brodey, who was tucked away in his room. "Brodey! Come on down, dinner is ready!" I could hear the familiar sound of his footsteps thumping down the stairs, full of eagerness. As he burst into the dining room, fatigue was written all over his face, but a spark of hunger flickered in his eyes. "What did you make?" he asked, excitement evident in his voice.

"I made potato soup," I replied with a smile. "Just something simple for the two of us." The creamy warmth of the soup felt comforting, perfect for the chilly evening.

As we settled down at the table, the inviting aroma of potatoes and herbs filled the air. Just as we were about to dig in, a loud bang echoed from the back door, jolting us from our moment. My instincts kicked in, and I turned to Brodey, giving him a reassuring look. "Stay by the wall of weapons, okay?" I instructed him, my voice steady despite the tension.

He nodded, pressing himself against the wall adorned with various weaponry—a blend of old and new that seemed to offer a sense of security. I approached the back door cautiously, my heart racing. With a deep breath, I lifted the flap and peered through the small crack in the weathered wood, my eyes scanning the dimly lit yard beyond. 

The shadows danced in the far corners, and I strained to hear any sounds that might indicate what had caused the disturbance.As I cautiously peeked through the tattered flap of the door, a figure came into view. 

He was unmistakably a zombie, the unmistakable mark of a bite visible on his forearm, a gruesome reminder of a life once lived. His movements were awkward and disjointed; he stood there, aimlessly bumping into the door, his vacant gaze fixed ahead, seemingly unaware of his surroundings.

His hands hung lifelessly at his sides, giving him an eerie, almost pitiful appearance. I felt a strange mixture of fear and pity, but ultimately decided against intervening. I stepped back, allowing him to stagger away from the entrance, his groans fading slowly into the distance.Once I was certain he had moved on, I retreated to the dining room. 

I sank into my chair, the familiar creak of the wood beneath me offering a small comfort in the unsettling reality outside. Silence enveloped the room as I sat there lost in thought, my mind swirling with the surreal encounter I had just witnessed.

"What happened, Zilla? Are you okay? You don't look too well." I found myself staring blankly at my bowl of soup, the steam rising from it swirling like my thoughts. "It was one of those things," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I saw it running into the door—there were these deep bite marks on its arm, and its eyes... they were completely black."

I felt a chill run down my spine, not knowing how to reassure her or make the situation feel less terrifying. My heart raced as I pondered the implications of her words. "Was it trying to get inside? Did it even come close to you?" The fear in my voice was evident, and I desperately wanted to understand what she had encountered.

Brodey glanced at me with wide, anxious eyes, though he was doing his best to mask his fear and offer me some comfort. "No, it was just moving around slowly, bumping into the door, and then wandering away," he said, trying to reassure me. I met his gaze, feeling the weight of his concern, and then turned my attention back to my half-finished meal, not wanting to delve deeper into the unsettling incident any longer.

"Let's just focus on eating for now, and then we can get ready for bed. I'll double-check that everything is locked up tight," I suggested, hoping to shift the mood. We resumed our meal in a heavy silence, punctuated only by the soft clinking of cutlery against plates. When we had both finally finished, the air felt a little lighter.

Brodey took the lead in the kitchen, moving towards the sink to start on the dishes. I rose from the table and headed to ensure all the doors and windows were secure for the night. All I had to do was find whatever panel controlled the security and all those metal sheets; it was a task that gave me a sense of safety amidst the lingering unease.

"Zilla, I'm done!" I heard Brodey call out from the kitchen, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet of our home. "Okay, just make sure your windows are locked, alright!" I responded, my voice carrying a note of assurance.

"OK, goodnight. I love you," he called back, his tone lighter now as he retreated to his room. The warmth of his words filled the space, and I felt a small smile creep onto my face despite the earlier tension. With that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving me to carry out my final checks before finally seeking the comfort of sleep.