SurvivorZ

26

DANIELLE

"That's it, on the left," Danielle said, pointing between the front seats at the house peeking out through the trees. "That's Terry's place."

Charlie pulled the car over. The two-story home with white siding and black shutters was the epitome of suburban blandness. Under normal circumstances, it would barely earn a second glance. Now that normal was as dead as the corpses rising from their graves, the sight of its dark windows and gaping entrance put everyone's nerves on edge.

"The front door's wide open," Judith observed, her voice low.

Charlie nodded, looking around anxiously. "Neighborhood's quiet, though."

"I don't like this," she declared.

"You said that about the mall, too," Danielle grumbled, fixing her with an irritated glare.

"And look how that turned out."

Charlie killed the motor. He grabbed the Ruger .38 Special from the cup holder and rubbed it between his fingers as if it were a lucky charm. "Okay, we're doing this." His gaze darted between his two companions. "Be careful. We don't know what's in there, so watch yourselves."

Danielle nodded eagerly and glanced at Judith. She could tell from the teacher's sour grimace that searching for Danielle's wayward boyfriend was an unwelcome detour in a field trip she never wanted to be part of in the first place.

The group emerged from the vehicle, scanning every direction for movement. Short of the occasional dead leaf floating from the branches, the neighborhood appeared frozen in time. Distant gunshots echoed from somewhere far away. Danielle absently wondered if they were coming in the direction of the Walmart.

With Charlie and his gun in the lead, they headed up the path to the open front door. Danielle clutched her father's small hatchet with white-knuckled fingers. She spared the occasional glance over her shoulder at Judith, bringing up the rear with Charlie's new axe. The woman was walking slowly, still searching the surrounding neighborhood for trouble. She seemed almost crestfallen about not spotting any excuse to break off the expedition and hightail it back to the car.

As worrisome as the open front door was, the sight of a bloody handprint smeared over its surface was even more alarming. Charlie threw Danielle a look. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

Upon seeing it for herself, Judith pounced on the opportunity to say her piece. "We shouldn't go in there. They're all dead. Let's get out—"

Danielle whirled around and glared at her with such intensity that she snapped her mouth shut with an audible pop. Judith tried to meet the girl's burning gaze but it was like staring at the sun. With a frustrated grunt, she returned to scrutinizing the street for movement with a fresh tint of rouge in her cheeks.

They entered the house. Charlie raised an open palm to hold back the others inside the door. The interior was eerily quiet. The soft squish of Charlie's sneakers on the floor as he ventured a few steps further into the room sounded louder than popping corn. He must have realized this as well. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and cocked an ear for movement.

Everyone held their breaths. They could detect no telltale groaning of floorboards. No shuffling of undead feet. No anguished moans or dripping blood. Nothing. The stillness was deeply unnerving.

Charlie peered over his shoulder at Danielle. She shook her head at him without uttering a peep. Perhaps the bloodstained visitor at their front door had chased everyone out the back?

"Hello?" Charlie called out. His loud voice pierced the oppressive silence, startling the others into a collective gasp.

"Maybe they—?" Judith was about to suggest, when Charlie raised another hand to silence her.