Killer ↠ 10K | Z Nation

1. Hello, God. It's me, Killer

"I'll call you later, Cal," I tell one of my teammates as I zip up my softball bag.

"Liar," she calls out, hopping into her car. "You never call me."

"I will this time!" I assure her. She rolls her eyes before squealing her tires out of the parking lot. She thinks that it makes her cool.

It doesn't.

Plopping myself down onto the curb, I surf through my Facebook. I'm seventeen, but I just got my permit, so, unfortunately, my mother still has to pick me up from softball practice.

After about ten minutes, I decided to call my mom. She's not usually this late.

"Hi-"

"Mom, hey, where are-"

"I'm not available right now, please leave a message after the beep."

I let out a huff, leaning back onto the curb. Wherever she is, she better have a good reason for not being here. Maybe I should just walk home. My mother will figure it out.

I begin my five-mile trek to my farmhouse; no small feat for someone in cleats and carrying a heavy bag. The trees grow thicker, signifying that I'm getting closer to my secluded home. That's when I notice something; there's absolutely no sound.

No cars.

No people.

No planes.

No birds.

How can there not even be birds?

I pick up the pace to my house, arriving about five later even with my awkward shoes.

The drive leading up to the house is long but I've already run up it in less than a minute. My mother's Toyota is still parked in front of the garage, though no other life is seen.

Maybe she's sick?

"Momma, are you okay?" I call out after entering. No reply. I search the house, becoming more frantic after each empty room. The final room is the basement.

The light doesn't turn on, causing me to click on my phone flashlight. I look around briefly, before retreating.

My leg gets pulled out from under me by some unknown force, causing me to fall down the couple of stairs I had climbed. I kick at the attacker while using the stair railing to give leverage. It's no use; the attacker does not give up.

Their nails dig into my exposed legs, drawing blood. I finally get a look at the attacker.

Wait.

My mother?

"Mom! What are you doing?!"

My mother gnaws on my cleat before going to my calf. I don't think that's my mother anymore.

"Look, let me call 911 and-" I'm cut off and knocked to the ground and unfortunately, so is my phone. My mother and her set of teeth keep coming extremely close to my flesh. That's when I know what I have to do. For survival.

I look around, keeping my mother's cannibalistic hunger away from my skin. I spot our camping gear.

Better than nothing, I guess.

I put all my strength into shoving the body off of me before running to the tent set and grabbing a stake, pointing it at my mother.

"Get back!" I yell. I don't want to hurt it, because maybe my mom is still in there, somewhere.

Life isn't fair, though.

I filled a satchel with food, clothing, and water. With the little room I had left, I put the contents from the medicine cabinet into my inventory. Finally, I fished out my hunting bow and quiver.

Then, that's when I remembered something; I'm still in my softball uniform and cleats. These won't do. Not taking my spare outfit out of my bag, I slip on another outfit from my bedroom—a black tank top with a brown vest on top. On my lower half, I slipped on a pair of stretchy skinny jeans. Similar to jeggings, though slightly thicker. I trade my cleats for black combat boots stopping at my knees.

Saying a silent goodbye,  I grab my mother's car keys. I have enough experience and knowledge that I think it'll be okay to drive to my aunt's house about two hours away.

Step one: Buckle your seat belt.

Step two: Start the car.

Step three: Adjust mirrors.

Step four: Drive.

After driving for almost thirty minutes, there's still no sign of human or animal life.

"What the fu—" My foot slams onto the brake. Standing in the middle of the road is a tall teen with a hunting rifle slung on his shoulder. I put the gear shift into park then jumped out.

"Why would you run out in front of a car?!" I yell at him.

He looks at me, his eyes unfocused. "I killed my father."

I snort. "I killed my mother." He sees me then, really sees me. "Come on, get into the car," I tell him. When he doesn't move, I end up having to move him into the passenger seat. Nervously, I start driving again, completely aware of the boy next to me.

"I'm Bex."

He intakes a large amount of air, with no sound of an exhale after. "I was Tommy."

Was.

"Who are you now?"

"Killer."

"Well, Killer," I say, grinning even though the situation is definitely not funny, "it's nice to meet you."

A/N: Hi guys, I'm extremely excited about this fanfiction and I've been working hard on it these last few months. Please tell me if you like it so far or tell me what to improve on. I don't bite ;)

Next update: 10/19

Edited: 6/2022