Epic Short Stories

The End of the World

I press myself to the cold brick wall, squeezing my eyes shut and attempting to steady my ragged breaths. Screams, sirens, and explosions echo off of my eardrums and I bite my lip so hard it bleeds. I'm only sixteen. I'm too young to die.

My eyes pop open when a hand just as cold as mine grabs my wrist. I jump, turning towards the figure, but it's not one of the creatures, thank goodness. Calvin's mud brown eyes are wide and full of confusion. His face is paler than the sidewalk we stand on.

"This is really happening, isn't it." He says quietly. It's a statement, not a question. I nod in response, completely unable to speak. He shudders, and rubs his eyes with the heels of his scraped, bloodstained hands. A lump rises in my throat, and I pull the skinny fourteen year old into a quick hug.

I wish I could say that today started out like any other day, but that would be a lie. This morning, he was all over the news: a madman by the name of Mickey Finn. It was actually rather disturbing to hear, his hysterical laughs and doomsday predictions. 'I suggest hiding underground like the cowards you all are,' he warned. 'Today is not a day for a walk in the park! Fire, death, and the return of the undead... the undead!' I can still hear his unearthly cackles in my mind. No one paid the crazed burnout any attention. No one listened to him. But I wish we had. Oh, I wish we had.

The day progressed as any normal day would, if you ignore the heavy weight that seemed to be on everyone's chest. Maybe the words of the madman were getting to us, maybe not. Either way, when seven o'clock came I found myself in my good friend Trisha Williams house. We were studying, I think. Me, Trisha, and a couple other friends. That seems so long ago, though it can't have been longer than an hour since then.

That was as far as the normalcy went.

At exactly 7:08, the explosions began. One after another. Up and down the streets. It seemed like there was dynamite planted on every other block. So, being the idiot teenagers that we are, the entire group ran outside to see what on earth was going on. That was when we first saw the creatures.

"Hailee!" Calvin cries as he pulls away, jerking me out of my revelry. He points over my shoulder, wide eyes filled with horror. I whirl around, shoving him behind me. Calvin is Trisha's little brother, and he's like a little brother to me. I can't let him get hurt. I hold up a short 2x4, the only weapon I've been able to get ahold of, and pray that it will be enough.

I can see that it won't be. Two of the hideous creatures are about thirty feet away from us, their heads tilted towards the wind, sniffling loudly. I swallow uneasily.

Flesh sags off of their grey bodies in patches. Sticky black blood oozes out of their wounds. Bright red blood, the blood of victims, stains their ragged clothes. One of them looks up at us, her vacant black eyes boring into mine.

I remember reading somewhere that zombies only die if you shoot them in the brain. I don't know if these creatures can see, and I don't know how fast they are. But I do know one thing: my 2x4 definitely can't shoot.

"Run!" I hiss at Calvin, grabbing his wrist and sprinting away from the creatures. He doesn't have to be told twice. As we sprint side by side, I hear a cackling, grunting laugh and heavy footsteps thundering behind us.

Crap.

"This way!" I gasp, pulling Calvin down a narrow alley. I swallow, trying to remember the quickest route back to Trisha's house. The group scattered when we saw the creatures before, but hopefully everyone is heading back that way. I try not to think about what might have happened to them.

"Where is everyone?" I ask Calvin as we run.

"I don't know. I was alone." He pants. "I was just glad to have found you."