Down the Road

~~~~~~~~Chapter 1~~~~~~~~

The country road the kids and I were walking on was littered with potholes, and the fields around us were covered in corn, making it seem like a maze. The August wind brushed against my forearms, my long brown hair whipping around my face. The children's chatter filled the air, their grocery bags, filled with cans, bread, and water clinking against them. They skip along the road, yelling and playing with each other, as if there wasn't a care in the world.

"Erin!" A voice calls. I turn to see Hayley, one of the neighbor's kids. She was probably 12, her blonde hair, pulled into a ponytail, whipped around her face. "How much longer?"

"Just a little bit longer," I smile politely. "I can almost see the church steeple from here." Suddenly, a scream pitches in the air, and the rest of the kids run past me.

It was a walker, who roamed out of the corn, brought by our voices. Her blue jeans and navy tank top were ripped and covered in mud and blood. Her eyes, black from the disease, bore lifelessly before her. Her skin was sun bleached and starting to peel. Her mouth had hooked onto one of the boys in the group, who cries out in agony.

My heart climbs into my throat as I grab for my gun that was once clanging against my shoulders. Two shots drown out the poor boy's screams, and the zombie falls.

The boy's panicked eyes meet mine, and we both give each other a knowing look, filled with pain and sorrow. My throat closes, my eyes starting to fill with tears. I didn't know him, but I know he would have a family, siblings...

Another boy, who seemed to be his age, stepped from the group. "Thomas!"

My heart skips a beat. The boy had to be my age. Was it--Ben? "Stop!" I cry out, fear pounding through my body. I thought Ben didn't come with us.

The boy who stepped forward replies, "We can save him!"

"No!" My voice cracks. "We can't." I turn my head to the rest of the kids. "Move on. I'll catch up."

The kids, scared and anxious, all start to continue down the road. I slowly take a step forward. "Get away from him."

"Thomas!" The boy yells again, tears staining his cheeks. The boy named Thomas starts to breathe harder, and his wide eyes suddenly turn red. The first sign of turning.

"Get back!" I yell louder. That man had to be Ben.

"I'm not leaving you!" The boy shouts. Thomas then lurches forward and bites the boy in the neck.

"Ben!" I cry, and my gun shoots them both. My breathing quickens. Ben. My best friend. I close my eyes, trying to force the sight of their bloody bodies from my eyes. I let out a moan. I glance back and jog to catch up with the rest of our group, tears falling down my cheeks.

The rest of the short walk consists of silence, the kids walking in the center of the road, anxiously watching the sides of the road. It had been at least two weeks since the last sighting. We had lost our vigilance. I walk at the back the group, my gun sitting in my palms.

The church building comes into view, and I'm doing my best to fight off tears. I had to be strong for the children. The fields suddenly drop off, allowing us to see the town. The first buildings are a store and a little bed and breakfast, and you can see the church two blocks down.

The sun is starting to creep down past the roofs, the chilling air causing the hair on my arms to rise. In the distance is the clanging of wind chimes, and I can read the first street name on the green sign. Chester Boulevard.

Once the kids hit the town, they run in full sprint to the white church, moving to the sidewalks. I follow behind them. My heartbeat quickens.

Would Ben be there?

Was he alive?

Our feet slap against the concrete sidewalk, the cans clanging even louder. The wind blows my long brown hair behind me, and we finally get past the little restaurant beside the church.

The church is small, like our town, painted with white and adorned with stained glass windows. The steeple looms over the rest of us, a bell sitting in it, a cross reaching toward the pink and orange sky.

The kids charge up the steps and thrust open the huge wooden doors. I hold the door open for the stragglers and then follow them in, trying to keep our composure.

Inside, some adults sit in the pews, looking for their children. They call to their children, who come and show them the food they got from the abandoned gas station. Others sit with their heads down, focused in prayer or staring ahead at the wooden altar, surrounded by flowers and a picture of Jesus behind it.

I see one mother look at all the children, scanning their faces. She then stands up, her gray eyes sweeping around the room, her pale hands smoothing down her pencil skirt. Strands of her blonde hair slip out of her bun and fall around her slender face. Before she can meet my guilt filled eyes I look forward and go through a door at the side of the room.

My feet slides quietly against the carpet, and I take a turn, charging down the steps. In the dim light of the basement, I can see a few children playing cards on the floor. My heart stops as my eyes fall on one boy.

His blonde head turns and his light blue eyes meet mine.

"Erin, what's wrong?"

"Ben!" I breathe, running forward and falling on my knees, wrapping my arms around him. He has to throw a hand down to steady himself. I ignore the racing of my heart and my blushing cheeks. "We lost a boy. I thought it was you."

"I'm right here." He smiles softly, and when I pull away his cheeks are brushed in red. His soft eyes calm me down as they stare into my brown ones.

"We got a lot of food." I state.

"Good. Your parents told me to tell you that they went home with your brothers."

"Alright. I'll head back then."

"I'll walk you home." He smiles and extends his hand. I smile back at my best friend as he helps me up and we walk upstairs and out of the church.