Unlikely - Daryl Dixion

Soup

I came to a skidding halt, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Sarah, beside me, was equally out of breath, her face flushed from the run. We'd ended up in an alleyway that was the epitome of urban decay. The buildings around us looked like they hadn't seen a coat of paint—or a decent tenant—in decades. Broken windows were boarded up with scraps of wood, and the streets were littered with trash. The smell was unbearable, a nauseating mix of rot and stagnant waste.

"Hold up, I need to catch my breath," Sarah said, her voice strained.

I took a moment to lean against a grimy wall, my heart pounding as I scanned our surroundings. This place was a nightmare. The kind of place you only saw in movies about apocalyptic scenarios.

"Okay, we need food, a car, and some weapons...and a tampon." Sarah continued, her voice serious despite her gasping breaths.

I tried to make light of the situation. "Yeah, let's split up and look for clues."

Sarah didn't catch the joke. "That's not a bad idea."

I blinked, my smile dropping as I realized Sarah was serious. I groaned inwardly. "Sarah, that was a joke. Clearly, you didn't get it."

Sarah looked at me with a mix of frustration and determination. "Actually, splitting up might be a good idea. We can cover more ground before that thing gets us."

I stared at her, my anxiety spiking. "Are you serious? This isn't a scavenger hunt! Splitting up is like inviting disaster!" 

-

Sighing, I watched as Sarah disappeared into the house across the street from me. She glanced back, her expression saying 'go in'. I shook my head, knowing deep down this was a bad idea. I turned my attention to the house I had been assigned to and took a deep breath.

The front door creaked open as I poked my head inside, straining to hear any sounds. Silence. Ok everything is under control. My legs trembled with fear, but I forced myself to step inside, carefully closing the door behind me. The house was eerily quiet, and every creak of the floorboards felt like a shout in the oppressive silence.

My first destination was the kitchen. I opened the fridge, my stomach churning at the sight of canned chicken soup. Ugh. I grimaced and grabbed a bottle of water instead. Canned soup was not going to cut it, not today.

With the water bottle clutched in my hand, I made my way upstairs, cautiously opening each door along the way. Not being careful was quickly proving to be my biggest mistake. I pushed open the bedroom door and was met with a sight that made my heart drop—an ugly, decaying face was inches from mine. Fuck Sarah.

I slammed the door shut, but its hand was already wedged in the gap, reaching for me with a grotesque, groping motion. I hope she falls and stubs her toe. I let out a panicked scream and backed away, surrendering to the horrifying realization that I had to escape.

Desperate, I fled down the stairs, my feet slipping on the steps as I tried to keep my balance. I glanced over the railing and saw another creature making its way up towards me. No, no, no! My mind raced as I tried to think of an escape route.

In a moment of sheer panic, I gripped the water bottle and jumped down the stairs. Normally, someone would land on their feet; however, I, a so-called track varsity star, landed directly on my knees with a sickening thud. I screamed in pain, but there was no time to dwell on it. I pushed through the agony and scrambled to my feet.

I sprinted through the kitchen and out the back door. The fence was my next hurdle. I climbed it as quickly as I could with most likely a broken knee, the metal barbs digging into my palms, but I didn't stop. My heart pounded as I threw myself over the top and landed on the other side, adrenaline masking the pain in my knees. The zombies had entangled their hands on the fence growling at me. I stood up putting up the middle finger, "FUCK YOU."