Survival - a Hat Films fanfiction

Prologue [2]

You hear a guttural scream behind you as you turn the corner, and it takes all your willpower to resist the urge to look behind you, instead concentrating on putting one trembling foot in front of the other, settling into a familiar rhythm.

You hope to you God you aren't right - it can't be right, can it? Zombies aren't real, and that's that. Maybe the man is crazy. Maybe this is some kind of sick prank.

But inside, you know none of that is true. It all adds up - why the shops are closed. Why no one's answering the phone. Oh God, you hope your friends are alright...

A strangled yell and the sound of shuffling about brings you back to reality. You need to act fast, before... before what?

You don't really want to stay and find out.

You can't help but feel the slightest twinge of regret as you pick up a backpack from the shelf and hoist it over your shoulder - but then again, if this is a zombie apocalypse, shop-lifting is hardly something you need to worry about.

As you reach the food aisle, all but tossing cans and water in your bag, another blood-curdling scream pierces the air, echoing back and forth through the whole store, followed by a resounding silence.

"Hello?" you whisper into the darkness. You can't even hear him moving anymore, and somehow, that's even more terrifying than before.

You hadn't expected an answer anyway. Taking a deep breath, you carry on towards the clothes section, pulling jackets, shirts, coats, shoes - anything you can find that looked about your size - off the hangers, and shoving them into your bag; the last thing you want in a zombie apocalypse is to die of hypothermia.

As you readjust your bag on your shoulder, you hear a soft padding noise behind you. You turn immediately, casting your flashlight down the aisle, before you realize the sound was just a bag falling off its hanger.

Shaking your head at your own derangement, you carry on down the aisle. The paranoia's already getting to you.

So now what?

You've got enough food and water to last you about a week, you'll guess, and enough thermal clothing to keep you from freezing to death if you have to walk long distances in the cold. Now you have to figure out where the fuck you're going.

Home's out of the question, of course - it's right near the city center, and you're no expert, but you know that in a zombie apocalypse, densely populated places are going to be the worst of all. And though you don't know the extent of the infection, if it's anything near what you see in the movies, you won't even be able to get there.

You shake your head in bewilderment. This is crazy - you can't seriously be planning how to survive in a zombie apocalypse. You must be cracking up.

There's a rattling noise up ahead that makes you stop dead, bringing your phone up to illuminate the aisle ahead.

And that's when you see it.

A hand, emerging from the darkness, and attached to it, a body, lumbering towards you.

The face shape and brown hair are unmistakable; it's the same man. But his eyes are bright yellow and bloodshot, and his face is sallow and lifeless, like the very human essence has been leached from him. Something in you realizes that it probably has.

That moment in time is when you realize this is no prank. All those horror stories, movies, news articles on sightings - they're real. And though everything in your being hates it, and wants to come up with some other rational explanation, deep down you know. Because it's happening now.