Undead Or Alive

Chapter 3

It was hard. They were young. They hadn't lived their lives. They hadn't been around long enough to really live... and their baby brother.

I looked around the room sobbing into my hands, the full force of everything finally hitting me.

It hit me hard. And it hurt.

For a short time I'd become my sister, and I plucked the note from my pocket. Smeared in blood, and my phone fell out, and I decided to listen to the many voicemails I'd been left. I was going to leave it for when I'd got away somewhere, then chuck it away after. Now seemed as good a time as any.

There was a lot of screaming, panic, confusion, and silences. I cried all the way through, and the last message was from my best friend.

"Violet, if I-if I don't survive this..." She paused to let out a breathy sob. "Please don't forget me." And the line went dead, and I dropped the phone and leaned back against the bed, crying.

"This day is the worst..." I hissed, and only came to terms with where I was when I heard the glass smash and my breath hitched. I was drifting in and out of my consciousness of this reality. Probably the shock. But I didn't have time for shock. Not right now. Not if I wanted to live.

"Come on Violet get your shit together!" I growled, getting to my feet and pulling my bag on. Then I just moved back to the window and listened as they began stumbling up the stairs. Pulling out the machete, I chewed my lip and sucked the blood from it, I was scared, but I was ready.

Until I heard something that sounded like running footsteps, and 'This Girl is on Fire', by Alicia keys, playing from the distance.

I turned around and there was a guy, running down towards me, armed to the teeth with what looked like giant bottles of hair spray. They suddenly turned around to him and I opened the window quietly, he noticed, looked up at me and winked. Glancing back, the zombies had started to shuffle down the stairs towards the noise, and I looked back at him.

"Get out of there you idiot or you'll get yourself killed," I mumbled, resisting the urge to chew my nails right down to the cuticle.

He was attractive, to say the least, and he looked young, with an oddly mature and grown up edge. It made it difficult to calculate his age, and I felt like slapping myself for having such trivial thoughts when he was about to get wasted by a horde.

Grinning wildly, he slipped a lighter out of his pocket, and chucked it into the air. It span and as he went to swipe it up... it clattered onto the floor.

I let out a small bout of nervous laughter before I realised how close they were, and in a split second, he snatched it from the ground, slipped a canister of hairspray into his hand, and made an ingenious flamethrower.

I gawked as they began tumbling into one another like torched, zombie, dominoes, until it was practically a zombie bonfire, and then one fell into the house. I couldn't help but laugh again.

How hideously comical.

The guy gulped. And I squatted on the window sill.

"Can you go down the stairs?" He asked meekly, and I tried to be cool.

He had come to my rescue, he had saved my life, and he'd done it pretty brilliantly, save for the fact I was about to be an ash pile like the rest of them.

"If I want to become a human torch, yeah, I can totally come down."

"Sarcastic, nice. Jump then."

I'd tried to be cool and it had lasted less than ten seconds.

"Jump? Are you crazy?!"

He laughed a little. "I'll catch you then," he said.