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

newcomers

Diary entry two

I know everything seems good. But I just have this sinking feeling that our lives are going to change soon. I don't know how, when, or why, but I know it will.
- Zilla out

Brodey and I have been doing much better lately. After our big fight, I made a promise to him that I would bake some cookies to show him I care. Right now, I'm down in the dimly lit food cellar, rummaging through shelves stacked with jars and bags, searching for the perfect ingredients. As I meander through the aisles filled with canned goods and dried items, something catches my eye in a shadowy corner at the back of the cellar. It looks intriguing, almost like a forgotten treasure nestled among the dust.

Curiosity pulls me closer, but just as I'm about to reach it, I hear the unmistakable sound of the front door creaking open upstairs. My heart races with a mix of excitement and apprehension. I quickly look up, my eyes darting towards the staircase, and without a second thought, I dash up the steps, the wooden boards creaking under my hurried footfalls.

Upon bursting into the main part of the house, I navigate through the hallway, my mind racing with questions about who might have arrived. Finally, I enter the living room and come to an abrupt halt. There, standing next to my brother, is a group of unfamiliar faces—strangers in our home. I feel a surge of curiosity as I try to piece together who they are and what they want, all while juggling the remnants of my earlier excitement about baking cookies for Brodey.

I quietly retreated a few steps, careful not to make any noise, and maneuvered around the corner of the kitchen wall to enter the weapon room. It was dimly lit and filled with a mix of tension and urgency. My hands moved with a sense of determination as I grabbed a knife with a sturdy handle and a handgun that felt reassuringly heavy in my grip. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I made my way back toward the front of the house where my brother and a group of unfamiliar people were gathered.

As I stepped into view, I could see Brodey animatedly talking to them, unaware of the potential danger their presence posed. "Brodey, get here right now," I urged, lowering my voice to a sharp murmur in an attempt to maintain control of the situation without attracting any unwanted attention from walkers lurking outside.

I swiftly seized Brodey by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back behind me and placing myself protectively in front of him. With a flick of my wrist, I drew the knife, positioning it defensively as I glared at the group. "Who are you people, what do you want, and how did you get here?" I demanded, my voice steady but laced with the underlying threat of the knife. My eyes bore into theirs, sending a clear message that this space was ours, and they were not welcome.

One of the individuals in the group stepped forward, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "We're not here to harm you, we just need a place to stay for the night until we can leave in the morning. Your little guy here opened the door for us because our friend is hurt," he explained, sounding earnest, though I couldn't shake the unease racing through me.

In an instant, I turned my head sharply towards Brodey. The unspoken command in my gaze was clear: 'Go to your room.' He met my look with a roll of his eyes, a familiar gesture of teenage defiance, but he complied, retreating up the stairs to his room. I kept my eyes fixed on the group, the knife still firmly in my hand, ready to defend what was ours.

"Who is hurt? Did someone get bitten?" I inquired, directing my question to the guy who carried himself like the group's leader. His face was taut with concern, and his posture suggested he was trying to maintain some semblance of control amid the chaos.

"I'm hurt, please help! It's not a bite, I just stumbled when I was running from a horde of zombies," a girl interjected, her voice trembling with urgency. I noticed she appeared to be roughly the same age as my friend Brodey, and there was a raw fear in her eyes. "What's your name?" I asked her gently, trying to offer some comfort amidst the panic.

"My name is Darcy. Please help," she replied, desperation lacing her words. As she attempted to approach me, her legs buckled, and she collapsed against the guy standing next to her for support.

A pale-faced youth who looked like he had seen a ghost chimed in, "Did you just say a whole hour of them?" His voice wavered, betraying his horror at the thought."Yeah, a massive horde! I think they came pouring out from the city," one of the other guys added, his eyes wide and frantic.

"Okay, I need all of you to calm down," I said firmly, trying to steady the rising tension. "It's not good for any of us if we're all in a panic." I stepped away from the group, deliberately putting some distance between us, and placed my weapons down on the floor, far enough to show I meant no immediate threat. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for whatever else might come next in this terrifying predicament.

I could sense the fear radiating from them, their wide eyes darting nervously around the dimly lit space. Despite their palpable anxiety, I still hadn't taken the time to truly get to know them. That's why I felt it was best to keep my distance, at least for now. "Listen," I said, my voice firm but calm, "let me take her. I'll get everything set up and figure out how to help her. 

In the meantime, I need each of you to go upstairs and into the movie room. It's secure, and I promise nothing can get in there." My expression softened slightly as I met their worried gazes. "And please, do not wander into any other rooms," I added, emphasizing my point to prevent any unnecessary panic.

With that, I gently took the girl from the man's arms, cradling her securely in my own. I held her in a bridal carry, adjusting her weight to find a better grip and maximize my leverage. She seemed small and vulnerable, and I felt a surge of determination as I prepared to take care of her.

As I turned to leave, one of the girls from the group called out to me, curiosity evident in her voice. "How will we know which room the movie room is in?" she asked. I glanced back at them, trying to be as clear as possible despite my brisk departure. "It's the last room on the right at the end of the hallway," I replied, my voice echoing slightly in the sterile atmosphere. "Just take a seat in there, and my brother or I will come find you as soon as we can. Got it?" With that, I resumed my walk into the hospital room, feeling a mix of urgency and relief.

Upon entering, I was struck by how prepared my brother was for this unexpected situation. The room was filled with an assortment of medical supplies—scalpels, gauze, and a range of other instruments that looked like they belonged in an operating room. It was almost overwhelming to see how meticulously organized everything was; I couldn't help but feel grateful that we had made our way to his house. If we hadn't found him, I knew we would still be stranded and uncertain about what to do next.