Star: A Zombie Story

3 - Chaos Unfolding

As I stare out over the horizon, watching the distant city lights flicker and pulse with something chaotic, I close my eyes and just... listen.

The helicopters are there, the rhythmic thump of their propellers cutting through the night. Usually, I'd tune them out, but tonight, the sound feels different, heavier somehow, like a warning. The sirens wail in the distance, overlapping in a frantic symphony, and I take a slow, deliberate breath, trying to steady the unease creeping over me.

And then I catch it-faint but unmistakable. Voices, echoing from the distance. Angry, raw, like a ripple of heat across the cool air. I can't make out any words, but the tone is unmistakably human. It's a sound that doesn't belong in the night, more like a storm breaking loose. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, a prickling sense of dread settling over me.

Without thinking, I turn and start back down the fire escape, my movements faster, more urgent than usual. The darkness feels thicker tonight, pressing down, and every instinct I have is telling me to get inside, to close myself off from... whatever this is.

But when I reach my door, I don't stop. It's like my body has its own momentum, my feet carrying me past my door, down the remaining rungs until I drop quietly to the street below. Frankie's probably in for the night, but I can't shake the impulse, this gnawing need for a familiar face, a grounding presence.

I slip through the alley, the silence here somehow more unnerving, the street eerily still, like it's holding its breath. When I round the corner to Frankie's building, I don't hesitate-I dart up his stoop and bang on the door, the sound echoing too loudly in the quiet.

Nothing. Silence.

My heartbeat stutters, a strange, nervous energy fluttering in my chest as I bang again, harder this time, urgency in every knock.

"Frankie!" I call out, my voice cutting through the night. Finally, I hear movement inside-a shuffle, the soft thud of footsteps-and then the deadbolt clicks. The door cracks open, and Frankie peers out, his face a mix of confusion and drowsiness.

"Star? Why you banging like it's the middle of the day?" he mutters, squinting at me in the dim light, his voice thick with sleep.

"I think..." I pause, breathless, the words tumbling out before I can second-guess them. "I think something big is happening."

He blinks, trying to process, his expression shifting to something more alert. "Big? What're you talkin' about?"

But I don't have an answer. Just the feeling-the heavy, thrumming weight of the city around us, like the whole place is bracing for something. Something neither of us is ready for.

I hesitate, trying to find the right words. "Look, my dad's gone for the weekend. He left me a message saying he heard about riots downtown or something... so I went up to the roof and-"

Frankie tilts his head, eyes still squinting like he's not sure if I'm pulling his leg or not. "Aye, aye, slow down," he says, raising a hand to steady me. "You know better than to be up on that roof, that shit ain't safe."

I roll my eyes. "Frankie..."

I glance down at his oversized T-shirt and boxers, the corners of my mouth pulling into a reluctant smile despite the tension. "Look, I know it sounds dumb, but could you throw on some sweats and come with me? Just for a minute?"

He looks down at his boxers and lets out a hearty laugh. "Star, it's the middle of the night! I'm sure whatever you think is going on, it's fine."

But it doesn't feel fine. Not one bit. "Have I ever pulled anything like this before?" I say, meeting his gaze, trying to convey the weight of what I feel. He tilts his head, considering, and lets out a long sigh.