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

fights

"So you went with bacon and eggs, huh?" I chuckled lightly, shaking my head in amusement at his predictable choice as I set down his food.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I? It was right there, and you told me to pick my favorite breakfast! Now hurry up and make it; I'm hangry!" he exclaimed, his voice almost rising to a shout, his frustration palpable.

"Alright, but before you eat, you need to brush your teeth, fix your hair, and get dressed! You're in your underwear and a tank top, common brodey," I instructed, trying to channel my authority.Without hesitating, he shot up from his chair and dashed upstairs, his loud footsteps echoing in the quiet house as he squealed with excitement.

With the news of zombies creeping closer from the city, I could feel a sense of tension in the air. It was a strange time where normal routines were overshadowed by the unsettling reality of survival. I glanced out the window, half-expecting to see the first signs of chaos. For now, though, I hoped we would remain safe, at least until the inevitable spread of the undead began to seep into our quiet neighborhood.

As I descended the staircase, the familiar scent of morning wafted through the air, leading me toward the kitchen. As I entered the brightly lit room, I spotted him sitting at the table, his eyes alight with excitement and anticipation. "How long have you been down here, buddy?" I asked, a grin spreading across my face as I took in his eager expression.

He looked up at me, his tail wagging furiously, and began bouncing in place, the chair creaking slightly beneath him. "I've been in here since you finished your shower!" he exclaimed, his voice animated and full of enthusiasm. "I heard the water turn off, and I knew you would be down soon. So, I decided to come down and set the table for us. Can you please make breakfast now? I'm hungry, and I want to start training!"

I blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected verbosity. It was a delightful change; he had never expressed himself this way before. His eagerness was infectious, and I felt a surge of warmth at his enthusiasm for the day ahead.

"What are you talking about, Brodey? What training are you referring to?" I asked, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside. He looked at me with a mix of anger and sadness etched on his face, the weight of his frustration palpable in the air. I could see that, deep down, he was coming from a place of concern; he just wanted to ensure his safety and mine.

 But at that moment, I was resolute in my decision—he was too young, and I couldn't bear the thought of him getting hurt trying to fight in a world that had already taken so much from us. I had promised myself that when he turned 11 and was better equipped to handle the enormity of that responsibility, I would train him.

"But why can't I?" Brodey's voice pierced the tense atmosphere as he shot to his feet, his words ringing out like a desperate plea. "I want to protect YOU!" The raw emotion in his voice was hard to ignore, and I felt my heart clench. "How could you hold me back from protecting the only thing I have left? What if something happens to you and I can't find you? Or what if one of those monsters gets you, and I can't help? Who will protect me when you're gone?"

Tears streamed down his face, each droplet a testament to his fear and desperation. He was crying a river by now—his anguish reflected in his trembling lips and wide, frightened eyes. It hurt me to see him like this. I felt a sharp pang of pain in my heart, realizing the depth of his worries. I understood he wanted to safeguard me, but the nagging thought of what could happen to him loomed over us.

I remembered the promise I made to Dad before he vanished into the night; I vowed I would take care of Brodey. If he were to face the dangers of this world head-on and didn't come back, how could I keep that promise? The thought sent shivers down my spine. I always keep my promises, and I couldn't let anything happen to him.

Brodey ran up the stairs to his room and slammed his door with a loud bang. After I had stood there for a minute, I went to the stove and started to make breakfast. I was making the mac and eggs when I heard a bang- similar to the one I heard the day before- I walked to where it sounded like it was. I looked through the hole, and there was a group of them. They were all zombies, and it was obvious because their necks were ripped open. 

I shut the flap and made sure the whole system was on, including the barn and the water supply container.I hurried back to the kitchen, the aroma of sizzling eggs and crispy bacon enveloping me as I focused on preparing breakfast. After stirring the scrambled eggs and flipping the pancakes, I assembled a hearty plate filled with a generous portion of everything I'd cooked—two fluffy pancakes, the warm eggs, and a few strips of golden-brown bacon. I carefully arranged my plate, taking a moment to admire my work before grabbing Brodey's plate to deliver it to him.

With his plate balanced in my hands, I made my way up the familiar staircase, my footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house. As I reached the hallway where his room was located, I noticed that his door was slightly ajar, just like it had been the previous night. I could feel a knot in my stomach—a reminder of the argument we had earlier. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously approached the door and peeked through the small crack.

Inside, I could see Brodey sitting on the edge of his bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if searching for answers in the cracks above him. His posture spoke volumes; he looked lost in thought and distant, and I sensed the weight of our earlier confrontation still hanging heavily in the air. Not wanting to intrude on his solitude, I stepped back and quietly set his plate down gently on the floor in front of his door.