Godead

XXVI

As night slowly fell, the four hunkered down in the house, Blair preparing dinner as Claude and Zoe kept watch from the front porch. As Abby slept on the nearby porch swing, Claude worriedly looked out at the woods.

"Poor Misty... she could still be alive out there somewhere. All alone in this darkness...," Claude said worriedly.

"Yes. I feel sorry for the poor kid. How old was she, anyway?" Zoe asked.

"I'm not sure. I never asked, but she looked to be around nine or ten years old. She had curly blond hair and wore a sleeveless white sundress and matching flip flops...," Claude explained.

Suddenly, Zoe froze in place.

"...Wait... did you say... flip flops?" she asked tensely.

"Yeah. Why?" Claude asked. Zoe paused, worriedly looking across the porch at the boy.

"I... think I saw a small white flip flop out in the woods..."

"...What? Where!? Why didn't you say something about it!?"

"I didn't remember it until just now. People discard all sorts of junk out in those woods."

"How big was it? How far in did you see it?"

"Not far. If I remember correctly, it was about forty paces north of my tent. It was small... looked like it could fit a child...," Zoe explained worriedly. Claude paused, looking off into the distance as a slow, sinking feeling washed over him.

The next morning, Claude told Blair of the flip flop, suggesting they go back to the woods and search for Misty. Blair refused, however, saying it was too dangerous after encountering the zombies. Claude insisted, but Blair remained adamant they remain in the house, and for once, Abby sided with the policewoman. As day turned to night, Claude frowned, looking to the woods in despair.

"Misty...," he thought, staring out at the woods from the front porch.

As the young man stood in silence, the screen door of the house quietly opened, Zoe stepping out moments later. Upon noticing Claude, she approached him, heeled leather boots sounding against the porch as she moved.

"...Hey," she said softly. Claude paused, slowly turning around.

"...Zoe. Hey," he replied.

"...You okay?" Zoe asked.

"Yeah. I'm fine. But... Misty," Claude replied worriedly.

"Claude... I can only imagine how you feel, but Blair's right. If those zombies are as dangerous as they seem, Misty's most certainly dead by now."

"...I know. It's just... I feel so sorry for her. I promised I'd keep her safe, and... I failed her," Claude said woefully.

As Claude stood crestfallen, Zoe frowned, noticing the pained look on his face. As Claude looked to the woods, Zoe paused, slowly stepping close to the boy. She gently raised her hand, briefly hesitating before resting it on his shoulder. As Claude felt her touch, he slowly looked over.

"...Zoe...," Claude said.

"...Hang in there," the girl replied softly.

As Claude looked on at the Gothic teenager, he suddenly found himself lost in her eyes. The two of them were like two deep pools of midnight, her black hair draping her forehead like spider's legs. As Zoe stared on at Claude's green eyes, the two stood motionless, both slightly blushing through the dim light of the porch. They slowly edged close, hearts pounding as they stood inches away from each other. As their lips slowly neared, the screen door flew open, Abby walking out as Zoe and Claude stepped away.

"Ah! Another nice night!" Abby said, soon noticing the two from across the porch. "Too bad about the twerp. I wasn't Misty's biggest fan, but I did enjoy teasing the brat from time to time," she added, heading to the swing before taking a seat. Zoe and Claude stood in awkward silence, briefly eyeing each other before looking to Abby.

"...Y—Yeah," Claude replied.

As the couple dodged a bullet, Doctor Flood stood in a dark laboratory, observing a pair of zombies locked in a cage. He raised a tape recorder, talking into it as the creatures snarled through the bars.

"September 18, 10:46 PM. Specimen #3, Dr. Sanders, shows little change despite having a steel spike driven through his heart. This suggests the afflicted do not need fresh blood to sustain functioning bodies, and the only organs that seem to operate are the brain and the lungs," Flood said, soon turning to his right.

"Specimen #4, Dr. West, shows signs of lethargy after increased doses of anesthesia were administered through injections. The change is minimal, however, and the amount given would sufficiently comatose a horse. As a side note, it appears male specimens are more aggressive than females, while females move considerably faster than males," Flood said.

He then moved across the room, tilting his head before smiling at a second pair of zombies.

"...Specimen #6, Dr. Larson, along with Specimen #7, Dr. Reinhart, are two of my latest test subjects. They've proved what I've long since suspected; a slain human will return as afflicted if not killed from damage to the brain. The cerebral cortex and lungs are the only pair of organs that remain intact, though the lungs serve little purpose outside of giving the ability to moan. The afflicted do not require oxygen, as was proved in experiment #29," Flood explained.

As the scientist recorded his findings, a woman suddenly sprung out from the shadows, raising her arm as she held a wrench in her hand. As she neared the shady scientist, Flood smirked, quickly looking back before dodging. The woman missed, cringing as she again swung her weapon. Flood again evaded, soon grabbing her wrist and disarming her.

"Damn you! You murdered them! You killed Larson and Reinhart in cold blood!" the woman exclaimed, struggling in vain against Flood's strength.

"Ah. Miss Crenshaw. What a lovely surprise. I'm amazed to find you alive after all this time. I thought for sure one of our afflicted colleagues would have gotten you by now," Flood said.

"Let me go!" Crenshaw yelled.

"What a fortunate turn of events. Here I was lamenting the lack of a healthy human specimen when suddenly, you appear! You will do nicely as my newest test specimen!" Flood said, soon punching the woman square in the stomach. Her eyes shot open, body slumping over as she fell unconscious.