Early Sunsets Over Monroeville (Phan)

Early Sunsets Over Monroeville

As Phil watched the orange sun slowly make its way past the mountainous horizon, turning the clouds pink and orange and blue with shadows and light, he could almost believe that everything was normal. He could almost believe, if he focused on nothing else, that he was back in London with Dan, watching the sun sink past the tall buildings and thick clouds- he could almost believe he was safe.

But this wasn't London, and they weren't safe. The only familiarity in this place was Dan's warm hand, clutched between both of Phil's, and the sound of Dan's breathing sending puffs of white into the cold air. Pulling his knees further against his chest and shuffling closer to Dan on the smooth, soft grass of their hill, Phil wondered how the world had turned so shitty so fast. Less than two months ago, he'd have been snuggled on the couch with his boyfriend, watching Friends reruns and enjoying the sense of home, of comfort.

Now, everything was on its head.

Just over a month ago, news of a volatile new brain parasite began to spread across the globe. First dismissed as rumours from the Internet blown out of proportion, it quickly moved up the priority scale to a global epidemic. Those infected turned vicious and unstable, attacking anything that was alive and in their immediate vicinity. The disease seemed to be spread through saliva, each bite infecting a new victim.

The 'zombies' grew in number, ripping through towns and forming hunting packs. The Internet was no longer working, and countries across the world were in anarchy, the structures of society in ruins.

When the pandemic began, Dan and Phil were on holiday in America- when international travel was prohibited, they were trapped. They were currently stuck in a small town in Alabama- Monroeville, Phil thought it was called. The town was mostly empty now, the residents killed or Turned.

Phil was ripped from his memories by Dan shaking his shoulder and pointing to a copse of trees behind them, from which an awful, familiar gurgle was being emitted. By the noise, Phil estimated there were around four, maybe five. Dan scrambled up and reached down to help Phil rise to his hole-filled-Converse clad feet.

Phil fumbled with the gun stuck through his belt and loaded it, pointing it at the trees. He heard clicks as Dan did the same. Although they weren't the zombie-fighting dream team- they were two nerdy boys from London, for christ's sake- they'd quickly learned how to work a gun.

After a minute of painful waiting, four bedraggled, emaciated people stumbled out of the trees with a rustle. Their faces were grotesque, empty eyes with their separated pupils like drops of oil in water, grey complexions and lank hair, blood staining their hands, clothes and mouths.

Before Phil reacted, there was a bang from beside him as Dan fired at the closest, a middle-aged man with his right cheek half ripped away, exposing teeth and rotting gums. It fell with a scream, then lay still on the ground. His companions glanced briefly at their fallen packmate, before looking back up at the boys. A silent signal passed between the trio, and they charged.

But something was wrong.

Usually the zombies were slow and lumbering, their limbs stuff and unresponsive. These ones tore across the twenty metres separating them with a shriek, shocking both Phil and Dan into stillness for a millisecond.

How were they so fast?

Another shriek from a female zombie snapped him from his trance and he shot her in the face as she was about to launch herself at him. She crumpled soundlessly to the grass. He glanced to the side to see Dan with the remaining two monsters flanking him, readying themselves to spring. He aimed his weapon at the one nearest him, hesitating for fear of hitting Dan. The zombie took the opportunity to jump, lunging at Phil's boyfriend as he was occupied with the other. As the thing reached Dan, Phil fired and it dropped like a stone, its sore-covered, bald head thumping onto the dirt.