Star: A Zombie Story

4 - The Weight of Survival

The moment we split up, I dash inside my apartment, grabbing the house phone with shaky hands to try calling my dad. But as I try to return his call, dread twists in my stomach. A mechanical voice clicks on, announcing the line's been disconnected. I stare at the phone, heart pounding, trying to steady myself. Maybe it's just a mix-up, maybe it's the wrong number.

I replay his message, jotting down the number carefully this time, each word of his message seeping into my bones, especially the worry in his voice. My fingers tremble as I dial again, praying this time it'll go through, but once more, I'm met with that same disconnected message.

Just as my pulse quickens, a knock at the door snaps me out of it. I rush to open it, relieved to see Oscar standing there, a duffel bag in one hand and Mamas's leash in the other, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. His pitbull bounces toward me, tail wagging so hard her whole body shakes.

"Mamas!" I exclaim, kneeling to give her head a scratch as she licks my face in one of those pitbull greetings full of pure joy. Taking the leash from Oscar, I motion toward the living room, trying to keep my smile steady. "Make yourself at home, man."

He glances around and settles onto the couch, dropping his bag beside him. Before I can close the door, Frankie strolls in, hefting a backpack and a big, long bag.

"Damn, Star," he says, glancing around with an approving nod, "you really be livin' like royalty up here, huh?" He motions toward the colorful artwork my dad has framed on the walls, and the somewhat nice furniture throughout the space.

I blush, waving a hand. "Well, you know... third floor's basically first class around here," I joke, brushing off his compliment, though I'm a little more aware of the effort my dad's put into making this place feel like home.

Oscar leans back, watching me with a thoughtful expression. "Aye, you checked the news yet?" he asks, absently rubbing Mamas's ears, grounding himself in her calm presence.

"Nuh-uh," I say, grabbing the remote from the table and tossing it over to him. "Haven't had a chance, maybe you can find something?" I say.

Turning to Frankie, I add, "I tried calling my dad. But the hotel number he gave... it's disconnected." I say, a slight tremor in my voice as I nervously twist my fingers for a moment.

I head into the kitchen, trying to distract myself as I pull down a glass bowl from the wooden cupboard, trying to hide the tension twisting in my gut as I place the bowl in the sink and start filling it with cool water.

Frankie's face grows serious, his easygoing expression fading as he crosses his arms and leans against the fridge. "Disconnected?" he echoes, his brows knitting together. "He's alright, Star. Maybe the hotel's just having power issues or some shit. We'll try him again in the morning, yeah?"

I nod, bringing the bowl into the living room and setting it down, snapping my fingers. "Mamas," I say softly, pointing to the water. She happily trots over, tail wagging as she laps it up. I make my way over to the front door and lock it, the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place giving me the faintest sense of security.

Trying to shake off the lingering worry, I turn back to them, plastering on a grin. "Alright, boys..." I clear my throat, "What'd you bring?" I ask, motioning toward their bags. "Let's see what we're working with."

They unzip their bags, laying out the supplies: flashlights, batteries, snacks, water bottles, and even a bag of dog food for Mamas. Each of them brought a pillow and blanket, stacking them on the floor like we're setting up camp.

I lean back, lifting my chin and frowning thoughtfully, eyes drifting over the spread. I let the silence hang, then raise an eyebrow. "And?" I say, giving them a look that says I'm expecting a little more.