The zombie game

chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was late at night when his father returned home, stumbling around the house, staggering forward, drunk as ever. He pressed his hand against the wall to steady himself before walking into his bedroom, seeing his wife's slumped shadow lying on the bed. He grabbed her, flipped her around, and shook her, his face in hers, the smell of booze heavy on his breath.

"Where is Joe?" he demanded, slurring his words.

"In his room..." stuttered his wife, Linda. She was scared, the fear showing in her wide eyes. He fed of of her fear. He always became a monster when he drank. "Don't do anything to him."

"It's my house!" slurred the father, "I can do whatever the hell I damn well please." He whipped around, nearly falling to the floor, but he used the cracked wall to steady himself. One time when he was really drunk and really, really mad, he had slammed his fist into the wall, cracking it, blood having glistened on his knuckles. That was a day when he beat on Linda.

"It's our house. And he's out son. Don't do anything--" He raised his fist and slammed it into her, causing her head to twist around. She fell back onto the bed, blood trickling down her lip. He grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the wall, cracking the plaster, and she went to the floor, rolling off the bed, eyes fluttering, before closing.

"Shut up! Now where is he?!"

"He--is in bed," muttered Linda through a sheet of tears. He walked out of the room, slamming the door, and he staggered up the stairs. He had a furious look in his eyes. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and he had a purple vein forming at the side of his head, throbbing with a somewhat of a delightful pain. He reached the top of the stairs and turned to the right, seeing a white door that was open ajar, and he knew that was where Joe was, sleeping. He reached the door, pushed it the rest of the way open, and saw a limp, dark shadow lying in a large, queen size bed, with completely shrouded in blankets. He advanced forward, smiling, a sudden glint crossing over his drunken and bloodshot eyes, and he grabbed Joe, turned him around, and smashed his fist into Joe's nose, blood exploding from his face. Joe suddenly awoke and was thrashing and kicking at his father, trying to keep him from hitting Joe even more, or doing something even worse; kill him.

"I told you I'd be back!" he shouted, slurring his words even more. He kicked Joe in the stomach, causing him to roll off the bed onto the floor. Joe twisted around and lunged toward the door, but his father was on him, tackling him to the ground, causing him to thrash and kick on the floor. His father grabbed him by his slick, black hair and slammed his head onto the hardwood floor. His head opened and blood started to mat his hair. Joe kicked his foot out and slammed it into his father's stomach, causing him to roll over. He slowly got up and ran as fast as he could to the door, limping a lot of the way, his vision starting to go blurry. He felt the warm blood run down the side of his head and he placed his hand on his head, compressing the floor of blood. He started to run fast, get quicker, when he saw a hand reach out and grab him by the ankle, causing him to fall to the floor. He looked around and saw his father staring at him, a murderous glint in his eyes. Joe tried wriggling out of his father's grasp, but the hand tightened on his ankle, causing him to suppress a scream as his father squeezed and squeezed and squeezed.

This was the craziest his father had ever gotten. Joe was actually scared for his life...scared that his father might go off the deep end and kill him and his mother. Anything was possible.

He heard footsteps along the carpet. Quiet, fast footsteps. His mother suddenly came into view. She stopped and placed her hand across his open mouth, suppressing a scream. She saw the drying blood along Joe's head, and he also saw his father's hand grasping Joe's ankle. She grabbed Joe's hands and pulled him along. His father relinquished the grasp immediately.