Life After Death Chapter 1

This is a zombie story, so by all means, enjoy.

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    Four months ago, it hit. The zombie invasion which many prepared for, but none could've ever imagined what the name "zombie" would accompany. Vile, rotting creatures with skin slipping from their bones; glassy, useless eyes beginning to droop from their sockets, but nothing compared to their stench. They smelled... Well, honestly they just smelled like something that's been dead for awhile. Anyways, I've been in a safe group for about three months. I've known most of the other nine people my whole life. There's Ben Wallens, age 32, who was my seventh grade history teacher and former bible class teacher; Daisy Shenhem, age 12, who had been my next door neighbor since I could remember. My cousin Chase is also a part of our group. He just turned 20. He was the main provider for our group, along with Kindra, the woman he'd brung home from college when the disease began spreading. I didn't know her as well as the others. There's Richard Perkins, who worked with my father for many years and would come over for dinner on Monday nights with Jameson Mathews, his step-son, who was also apart of our group. Last, but not least, there's the Anglestons. Mother, son and daughter all made it through the most important stage of zombie-ism: don't get bit. Andrea Angleston, age 41, had been one of my mother's closest friends. Brandon and Shayla Angleston, a year apart, had been my sister and I's partners in crime until the moved to another part of town a couple years before the pandemic.

    Currently, we all sat silent around a makeshift heater in a random, deserted living room.

    "Hey babe! Pass the beans, would'ya?" Brandon's voice carried slowly towards me, like the cold air made them heavy.

    "Don't call me babe. I have a name and it's Editha. If that's too hard for your damaged brain, call me E.D."

    We were almost the exact same age; he was born on April 3rd while I, April 4th. He hasn't let me forget all 17 years of my life.

    "Sheesh E.D., don't be a killjoy."

    I rolled my eyes as he scooted a safe distance away. I may or may not be known for hitting things. The room grew silent again. I began to count the seconds of silence and made it to 116 when the window before us shattered. Nobody moved. Ben crept towards the wind blown curtains painstakingly slow when another hand clawed within inches of him. He sprang back and yelled at us to get away. I picked up my always ready duffel and escaped out the back door.

    "E.D.! This way!" Jameson's familiar voice led to one of our three cars. I noticed that the other two cars had filled up and quickly slung myself into the passenger seat. I mumbled a 'thanks' and slapped my seatbelt around me as he peeled away from the house.

    "No problem." He was breathing hard, like me.

    We drove until dawn, finally losing the string of zombies that had been trailing us. We circled around and pulled up to the house we'd been resting peacefully in not five hours ago. The door had been left open haphazardly in our hasty escape.

    "Do you see anyone?" Jameson asked quietly. That's all I'd ever really and truly known about him. He's the quiet one, and as I thought about it, it hit me that I was on my own with someone I didn't know.

    "Hello? What's going on in there? You look like you just saw a ghost." The quiet one himself was rapping his large knuckles on my forehead.

    "Oh, uh nothing, I just thought I saw something." The second that escaped from my lips, I did see something. Shayla Angleston stumbled out of the house and squinted at the sun. I could see blood on her body, but wasn't close enough tell if it was hers. She slowly, ever so slowly, lifted her head at a sharp angle and let out a long soulful scream. She started sprinting towards our car.

    "DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE!" I shouted in Jameson's ear along with some choice curse words.

    "Alright, woman! Calm down!" He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other shoved halfway up his ear. I could've laughed but Shayla's face was stilled etched into my corneas.

    He suggested that we drive around and look for the other cars. I agreed.

    We found nothing and saw nothing. I wondered if he also was wondering if we'd ever see them again.

    "Should we wait here for them or go looking?" I asked with the hope he'd say 'wait,' because looking included zombie-shopping... And I thought I could live without seeing another one of my friends zombified.

    He stared into the horizon and it felt almost fiction-like as he nodded and said, with the perfect amount of theatrics, 'we wait.'