The Zombie Apocalypse with MCR (Complete)

New Realities

I wake to the inky blue of very early morning.

For a moment, I wonder why I'm awake and why my body hurts the way it does. My sheets feel different and my walls are different colours.

But these aren't my walls, or my sheets.

And I guess my body is stiff because it was chucked around more than once yesterday by angry dead people.

And I suppose the hollow, empty feeling in the centre of my chest is owing to the knowledge that my mother is dead, and the twins, and Riley too.

(Lazieness can get you killed, dad says, you get up and get moving as soon as you're able. Even if it hurts.)

I heave myself up and out of the bed I've shared with Natalie. I let her sleep, navigating the bathroom in the faint light as quietly as I can. I wash my hair and scrub my face, and I even make the effort to shave. I don't know how long hot water will last, so I take the time to indulge.

I keep my mind carefully blank while alone. I cannot think about yesterday. I cannot stop for a moment to think about what I've lost.

It's only as I leave the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, I think to check the news.

The cold of the morning bites at my toes and damp shoulders, but I make my way to the living room and flick on the TV.

Nothing but static. I try every channel, but there's no news and no scheduled programs. Blank screens with apologies displayed, declaring that the network will soon return to its regular programmes. Most have a dull tone in the background.

(Assume the worst. Assume no one is coming. The only person you have to help you is you, Dad says.)

Crying isn't going to do me any favours, but I desperately want to sob.

Probably best not to waste the time on something so useless, though. But if I don't move soon, if I don't distract my addled brain and broken heart, I will start screaming and never stop.

When I'm dressed in Nat's stolen clothes, I do a sweep of the house. It's big, spacious, and well stocked. The windows are large, which make them dangerous. They'll be hard to cover up and easy entry points. Thankfully, Natalie's family don't believe in minimalism, so there's plenty of furniture in the event we need to barricade anything.

Another advantage of the house is that it's detached, with a heavy gate, and it sits on the edge of the city. I can only imagine that the city centre currently looks like a hellscape, and it isn't an environment I'm keen to visit. Best we stay on the outskirts, away from the mayhem. But do we run? Do we try for the countryside, like John suggested? Like Natalie's parents aimed for?

The risk is the roads. If the news was urging people to get out of cities, the motorways would have been rammed; probably still are. Every major road in and out will be blocked. Even if that isn't the case... I must assume the worst. That's how I have to operate now; I have to assume the worst and plan around it.

Considering this, I do inventory. Natalie is middle-class, so her parents could afford to buy in excess. For this I'm grateful, as the house has food enough for three weeks, if we're careful. We could even push four weeks, in the event that the power holds and the refrigerators stay operational. Of course, I have to assume they won't.

I go to an upstairs window and survey the street. A good, quiet street, lined with big houses and big gates. If the houses are empty... If the families are gone, or dead... There are supplies enough for a good, long while.

Once my brain has provided the thought, my father's lessons demand that I follow through. I'll sweep the street, carefully. Do a cursory check for signs of life. Best not to start looting on the very first day of the apocalypse; I'll save that behaviour for later.