The Siren Outside Our Door

The Siren Outside Our Door (Part 1)

I could feel the slobbery lust for blood spill scratching remorsefully at my ankles as I sprinted ahead. The humidity in the air stung my skin and wavered my breath but stopping would lead to nothing but death.
Every step I took upon the dusty earth seemed to slow me down more and more until I could hardly put one foot in front of another, but the undead could no longer feel this, only the possessive desire to rip me to shreds. It seemed like hours of intricate twists and turns of pure adrenaline and fear until that beacon of hope illuminated in front of me. A rundown shanty, infested with weeds and an atmosphere I could only describe as the destruction of hopes and dreams. At this point, it was my only option, unless a mansion happened to spring from the barren earth. I paused a moment, actually anticipating the spring of a golden safe haven but no, only the disgusting shack.
I sped to the opening of the structure but chains held the fragile doors closed. I pulled the chains left and right, hoping that they might have rusted enough to simply break off.
To my surprise they held together. Exhausted. I pressed my back against the door, rattling the chains against the old wood. Suddenly, a voice sounded from inside.
"Please just leave me alone!" It yelled. The voice was deep, but it was soft and somber, almost as if the host was holding back tears. I perked up. Seeing anyone actually alive in the apocalypse was just about a miracle.
"He-hello!" I stammered, lining my face up with a small crack in between the doors.
Through the thin wood I heard a loud slam and shuffling on slippery concrete.
The voice sounded again, but this time it was lighter and even deeper.
"You! You're alive! Right! It can't be... I thought everyone died," the voice trailed on. It sounded as if whoever it was was pacing about the floor, muttering small remarks to itself.
Aside from the muttering mess inside the shack, I began to hear the slams of bare feet against pavement and I knew they were coming.
"Yes, yes I'm alive but you have to let me in... Please... They're coming!"
The door didn't budge. My legs began to tremble as the steps and moans became more apparent. I knocked my fist on the door frantically.
"Please c'mon!" I scolded through the crack. I heard no more footsteps in the shanty.
"Please!" My voice grew more and more urgent just as my fist against the door did. My body began to heat up as I imagined what the undead would do to me. They would pin me down and slowly tear off my skin and devour it, eating my limbs then my organs and my eyes. Blood drummed in my ears each second no footsteps were heard. Tears began to well up, blurring my already dirty vision.
"Please..." My voice was hopeless and squeaky. My fists began to slow until it was only a palm resting on the lifesaving wood.
With a burst of pure relief, the door swung open and a tall, extremely thin man was exposed. He grabbed my wrist and forced me inside, slamming the door behind him. I furiously rubbed my eyes to get a better look.
He was looking at me with his eyes brows slanted in a concerned fashion. His black hair was surprisingly tame and his dark skin peppered with bruises and cuts. Around us was a bland but seemingly stable barn-like structure. The walls were a worn and ugly tan paired with monotone concrete that would only be found in a home improvement store. My breathing began to slow as the man released his grasp on my wrist. I looked at him once again, barely slipping out words between my forced breaths.
"Thank you,"
He said nothing, only tilted his head a bit implying a "your welcome". He automatically turned from me and trudged to the corner, where he sat crossing his legs neatly.
Minutes felt like hours as I placed myself a few paces away from him. We never matched glances even though I had occasionally peered over at him. He mainly sat, twiddling his thumbs as a means of entertainment.
For me, this place was heaven, but I could tell that this was his hell.
One thing I despised about the apocalypse was not only the blood thirsty undead but the lack of wrist watches and wall clocks. When your running for your life, time is irrelevant but when you're laying idle in a shack, it is everything. What I could only guess were hours past and not a word was uttered from either of our mouths. Though, I had discovered the slightest crack in the wall that provided a clear view of the outside, at least supplying me with some idea of the time. It was dim, but not yet black when the first word was spoken. I was quite taken back when the mans voice suddenly drifted into the air.
"What's your name?" He questioned. I glanced over at him, but his eyes were simply focused on the wall ahead of him.
"Its Kate," I replied, taking a moment to actually remember. Things like names and dates didn't matter much anymore.
"And you?" I asked, genuinely curious about my new companion.
Like me, he paused for a moment then seemed to have an epiphany as he remarked his title.
"Its Mark!" He said, lifting a finger up. I chuckled, any jokes were funny these days.
He kept a conversation going, asking me various things about myself, like my favorite color, TV show, food etc. He was quite amusing when he was not starring at a blank wall.
It was when he asked me what I used to be when I realized something.
I didn't answer the question but instead, words poured out of my mouth uncontrollably.
"I was stuck at a dead end job. Everything i did, I hated. Up until now its all I've known, maybe its better that this all started. I'm miserable now and I was miserable then and this shack is better than a two foot cubical," my voice grew progressively aggressive as I recalled the awful schedule I followed. Wake up, go to work, eat, go to sleep. I was a fool for following it for so long. Mark didn't respond but I could feel his gaze resting upon me. The light began to disappear from the crack, leaving only the light of the moon and the stars.
Anxiety swept over me every second Mark stayed quiet. He wouldn't stop starring at me and his face barley moved. I wanted badly to strike up a conversation but I knew too much time had past since my rant.
It was late, probably 10 pm and I felt my eyes grow heavy. Mark had finally casted his gaze elsewhere but yet again only silence hung in the air.
I subtly sprawled my limbs against the floor and squirmed a bit before finding the most comfortable position you could be on on concrete floor. My eyes fell closed and I couldn't recall a moment after that. In rest my mind was whizzing with thoughts of death and torture, my brain deciding which to choose as a nightmare.
The night seemed like a journey to my mind, exhausting and eventful and the morning was its destination.
As soon as I awoke I noticed Mark laying idly on the wall only a small distance away. His mouth was wide open and his chest moved every few seconds, each time sending a wave of relief over me. He may not have been a very social companion but he was my only one. I turned on my side to peer outside but I was interrupted by the sudden screech of a siren outside the shack. The noise sent a shocked Mark a few feet in the air. Now hyperventilating he turned to me, wide eyed.
"What's that noise?" He questioned, his voice barely raising over the alarm.
"Don't ask me!" I responded, twice as loud. The noise would blare in an eerie crescendo, stopping only for a few seconds then repeating. Mark lifted himself off the concrete and tiredly sauntered to the door. He leaned over and peered through the cracks. I stood and followed close behind, bending down to look at his peculiar face.
"See anything?" I asked. His eyes didn't avert from the crack but he responded quietly.
"No,"
"I hope this doesn't last for long or those monsters will find us," he added, just as quietly.
I straightened and paced back to the corner I was sitting in while Mark continued to scan the small area he could see.
The alarms stopped after what seemed like an hour and Mark was back in his designated area. Tension floated through the silent air. Truth was the siren was an icebreaker, something to talk about, something to fill the haunting silence, when it stopped, I was almost disappointed.
I turned to Mark and, almost as if he had eyes on the back of his head, he turned to me.
"How was it before the apocalypse..? I mean... How was your life?" I said. There was nothing else I could think to say to a stranger.
His face lit up.
"It was great! I had just graduated college and I got a job as a nurse for a small clinic in Georgia. I had a beautiful and sweet girlfriend who I was planning to propose to," as soon as he said that he reached into his tan shorts pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box in which I could only assume held a ring. He flipped it open and as I suspected a sparkling gold and diamond ring was exposed. His expression turned grim as he gazed at the ring and without warning snapped the box shut. "But she died. She was bitten by some old hag in our first hideout and I had to blow my own girlfriends brains out,"
I recoiled at the hate in his words. It was clear he loved her. I casted my gaze towards the floor when his words startled me once more.
"What about you?" His voice was much lighter now. He seemed genuinely interested, his eyebrows arched and a slight smile on his lips.
"I lived with my mom and sister a little ways away from here," I said. "When the apocalypse started I could only remember one of them taking a car and the other taking a motor bike and speeding away from our home. I had nothing but my feet so I ran, far away. I must've gotten turned around to end up here." I clamored on. Another human being was a scarcity to me at that point and someone to actually hear you out was a delicacy.
Mark furrowed his brow and tilted his head.
"They just left you?" He asked.
"Well they weren't ever super kind to me," I tried my hardest to sugarcoat it but in reality they were complete demons.
"But that's... Horrendous! They left you to die basically!" He argued, leaning in and starring intently at me.
"Not the worst they've done," I muttered to myself as Mark leaned back, an unsatisfied look on his face.
It was silent for a while until the sun began to fall once again when Mark looked to me, a serious expression plastered on his face.
"Do you think we're ever gonna leave here?" He said. His voice was high again, as if he were on the verge of tears. I could feel the hopelessness radiating from him as he looked at me for an answer. No.
"How else are we gonna find out what that siren is?" I bluffed. He smiled. I knew he didn't believe me but he laid back on the wall, finally relaxed. We fell asleep without another word.