A Story To Tell: Season 1| A Zombie Apocalypse Story (Completed)

Day 5.1

Axel

My motorcycle comes to a grumbling halt when we reach the driveway of the house. Tall trees and heavily covered foliage surround the wooded areas by the house, which stands primarily in solitude. The lights remain off in the house, keeping the lot dark and contrasting with the lit-up neighborhood. When we moved here, my dad wanted to be as isolated from others as possible.

"Hey, uh, where are we?" Amber says with a quiver, holding onto her arms as a cool breeze hits us. I just look over her sad features helplessly. She looks down with red, irate eyes, her hands clasped together tightly. I feel my heart become heavy at the sight. I know exactly where she is right now. How she feels right now.

"This is my house," I clear my throat with a hasty response, letting a sliver of a smirk come across my face in an attempt to conceal my empathy. I toss the house key to her.

"Go ahead and head inside." She nods, and I drive my dad's motorcycle into the garage. Our garage is filled with three different cars. My dad must've left in one of the work trucks. There is a Tesla Model 3, a blue Ford truck that he's had since before meeting mom, and a burnt orange 1966 Ford Mustang. I admire the old car; the mustang is my personal favorite, but dad never drives it unless it's for a car show.

I park the bike and go inside, closing the garage door behind me. I quickly slip off my shoes. When I make my way inside, I spot Amber on the couch. Sitting. Looking aimlessly into oblivion. I check the time to see it is already past midnight. 

"Hey, I'm gonna make us some food," I say, breaking the silence. Her glassy eyes follow me to the kitchen. I look around, trying to figure out how to make an actual meal. Usually, I would have soup or some sort of microwave meal or eat at a friend's house, except on the rare occasion that my dad is actually home. Most of the time he is either at work or out with his buddies.

"Let me make it, you just do something else," she mumbles, her voice void of emotion. I hesitantly nod, heading upstairs and skipping every other step. I walk into my room and go into the bathroom, having an idea. I look around and see my bathtub. I never use my bathtub, so it is pristine clean. I put the plug in the drain, thinking to fill the tub with water if the water stops working. Who am I fooling? When the water stops working.

I cut on the faucet, the cold water roaring as it flows. Waiting for the tub to fill, I just look outside, massaging my sore ankle. My eyes widen when I see the headlights of two unfamiliar cars pull up toward the driveway. I close the curtain in the bathroom before hurrying down the steps, almost slipping.

"Amber, close as many curtains as you can. And cut off the news and stove. Now," I demand, making my way over to her.

"What the hell? Why?" she questions with an annoyed tone, her eyes still red.

"Trust me," I add, staring her straight in the eyes. She looks at me weirdly but does what I instruct her to do, rushing over to the steaming pot on the stove. I go to the back of the house and close everything that lets light into the house. She meets back up with me.

"Help me close everything upstairs." She nods without question and rushes upstairs with me. I go into some of the rooms that she may be unfamiliar with and close any open curtains. I go into the gun storage closet to find half of them gone. I sigh angrily. I grab two pistols and rush out of the room.

"Axel!" I hear Amber shout. I hurry to her worried voice, praying that nothing is wrong.

"The bathtub is overflowing," she cries out, her voice high-pitched in a distressed frenzy. Shoot. I forgot about it. When I run into my bathroom, my socks become wet as I walk into a puddle of water, the faucet off already.