Star: A Zombie Story

6 - Dawn of Fear

Once my dad's mattress is in the living room, we shove the coffee table against the wall to clear space. Frankie and I wrestle the mattress up against the couch while Oscar holds the flashlight steady, the beam cutting through the thick, suffocating dark. The shadows outside feel almost alive, pressing in against the windows like they’re trying to seep inside. I didn’t know darkness could feel so heavy.

From my bedroom, I retrieve a few candles, lighting them one by one. Their warm, flickering glow casts trembling shadows across the room, softening the edges of the space. For a moment, the light almost feels peaceful—almost. Beneath it, the tension still hums, heavy and unshakable.

I toss a few extra pillows onto the mattress and drape a blanket over the couch for Oscar. “Okay, listen up,” I say, my voice light but tinged with a nervous edge. “I’m not trying to cuddle or anything, but I don’t feel safe with us all sleeping in different rooms. So… temporarily… can we make this work?”
I glance between them, their faces shadowed and flickering in the candlelight.

Frankie shrugs, a faint grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “That’s all good with me, Sweetheart,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp as he moves around the room, double-checking every door and window. His movements are deliberate, methodical, like he’s preparing for something he doesn’t want acknowledge.

Oscar flops onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, stretching his arms over the back. “Yeah, same. I don’t fuck around with the dark, yo. I’ll be real with you, this is spooky as hell,” he says, letting out a short, uneasy laugh.

I manage a smile, a flicker of relief loosening the knot in my chest. “Alright,” I say, satisfied for now. I pull back the blankets and crawl under them, scooting back until my shoulders press against the couch. Sandwiched between them will feel like I’m part of some makeshift barrier against whatever might be out there. It helps. A little.

Frankie finishes his sweep of the apartment, the sound of locks clicking into place echoing in the quiet. When he’s done, he kicks off his boots and sinks onto the mattress with a heavy thud, the springs groaning faintly under his weight.

“It’s about to get real cold in here, y’all. Make sure you get under all them blankets,” he warns, pulling the covers up to his shoulders as he lays down.

“Mamas,” I call softly, patting the mattress between Frankie and me. Her whole body wiggles with excitement as she bounds over, hopping onto the bed with a light thump. She rolls onto her back, her paws splayed, her goofy grin softening the tension in the air. I can’t help but laugh as I scratch her belly.

I roll onto my side, tucking the blanket under my chin as I continue to pet her softly, the rhythm soothing me as I do so.

The candlelight dances across the walls, mesmerizing and fragile. It should be comforting, but the unease doesn’t go away. It lingers beneath the surface, like a faint vibration I can’t shake.

---

I’m not sure at what point I drifted off, but I’m suddenly jolted awake by a scream. A sound so unnatural, it sends a ripple of pure, bone-deep fear through me. It’s not a normal scream; it’s warped, guttural, something almost feral. My breath catches in my throat as I sit up, my pulse hammering.

Mamas flips upright too, her ears twitching frantically, her head tilted as if straining to catch something that might already be gone. The faint gray light of dawn filters in through the windows, but the sky outside is overcast, the clouds low and heavy. Everything feels muted, cold, and wrong.

I shake Frankie’s shoulder hard, my voice a frantic whisper. “Frankie, wake up!”

He stirs with a low groan, his hand brushing mine away as he tries to orient himself. Without thinking, I reach back to swat Oscar awake, but before I can, he shifts, glaring at me with tired, wide eyes.