Twelve Days Living

Chapter Five

it was dawn by the time we reached the next town. It was to no means a city, but it had stores, and homes that lined the streets. Well, the few that where still standing. It looked just about the same as any other place we had been, not much variation, other then whatever the city or town was called. I didn't know if Bree felt comfortable finding a building to rest in again, or if she wanted to continue walking, so I waited for her to make the call. As we wandered further into town, she began looking through the windows of the stores, and other standing buildings. 

It was surprisingly quiet, and it was starting to make me uncomfortable. Usually, there would be an occasional screech of a Macki, or the sounds of other survivors. Since late afternoon, yesterday, there has been nothing. Hearing the sounds makes me on edge, but when its this quiet, you start to wish there was at least something making noise. A stray cat, or someone rummaging around in a house nearby. There was nothing.  

"In here." Bree called from halfway down the block, as I began to jog over. 

She had found a one story house, not quite falling apart, but it was getting there. It was sad, and drooping to one side, the roof hadn't been repaired since the infection, and it had suffered in the weather for it. The blue gray paint peeling off of the board walls, as the stone of its exterior crumbled slowly. I looked up at Bree with a raised eyebrow, and she shrugged. I never questioned her before, we had seen a lot worse, so I wasn't about to start now. I was tired, and just wanted to get inside already. If the place fell down with us inside, so be it. As long as we got a couple hours of sleep beforehand. 

I walked up the rotten wooden steps to the front porch, and opened the screen door. I looked back at the dark haired girl, as she stood uncomfortably, shifting her weight on the slowly buckling set of stairs. I turned back around, and pushed the second door open. It swung in with little hesitation, for the lock had been broken long before we came along. The second I stepped foot into the doorway, I was hit with a smell that made me instantly nauseous. I held my hand out behind me, to keep Bree back, as I bent over, my other hand over my nose and mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to breath again. It smelled horrendous. The smell of death was the only way I could describe it, and that alone was enough to make me want to leave. Staying in here couldn't be a good idea, but the rest of the town was in ruins. 

Brianna walked up to me, putting her left hand on my upper back while she held her hood over her nose and mouth with the other. I felt as though I was going to be sick, but I stood up straight again, and pulled my shirt over the lower half of my face. Further into the death house we shall go. Bree stayed close to me, as we crept through what looked to be a living room. We reached the swing door, that I assumed lead to the kitchen. I kicked it open, not wanting to touch anything with my hands. When I did, the smell grew unbelievably worse. I gagged, as I squinted my eyes, and looked around. The hideous sight before us, differently explained the smell. 

There, only about five feet in front of us, was a set of chairs, around a table. The counters, stove, and other kitchen utilities behind that. In the closest chair to us, was a woman, or what was left of her. She wore a gray sweatshirt, and sweatpants. normal enough, aside from the rot, and decay along with it. The woman was slouched over in her chair, her hair covering her face, and a gaping whole in the back of her neck. The blood long past black, and dried. Her hair, skin, chair, and clothing where caked in a dark, paint like scab. Her head was still somehow connected to her torso, as it hung there. 

The chair to the right of that, held the remains of a teenage boy. His skin pale, and no indication of wounds on his body. His dark hair hung over his eyes, as he seemed to almost be sleeping, with his head resting on the table. His black long sleeved shirt faded, and slightly torn, with a pair of worn out jeans. His arms hung down by his sides, covered in an unsettling amount of dried blood. The man sitting to the right of him, was no better than the woman. His head hung over the back end of his chair, as he sat in his seat. He looked as if asleep, just like the boy. Without the gruesome whole in his chest. It looked as if someone had attempted to rip his heart out, or succeeded in doing so. His ripped black t-shirt, looked no better then the contents around the woman's neck. 

The last seat, was a child's chair, that contained nothing. On the table, was a set of plates, and silverware, as if the family was sitting down to have dinner. It was a morbid scene, that seemed to look like it was meant to look almost peaceful. It sent a shiver up my spine, and gave me another rush of nausea, when I thought it looked like someone had set the table up, and put the people in these chairs. Like a human sized playhouse. They all had plates in front of them, a set of silverware, and a napkin. It was disorienting to look at, but I couldn't rip my eyes away from the horrific setup. I am no coroner, but these bodies had been there for a while. The empty baby seat disturbed me, just as much as the reset of the scene. 

It looks as though the boy had tried to stop the bleeding, of what looked to be his parents. For he had blood on his hands, and clothes, but no known injuries that I could see. The wounds of the two parents, don't look to be possibly self inflicted. Someone else had done this, and it hadn't been at this table. There was no dried blood that had dripped onto the floor, or the table. The wounds had been inflicted somewhere else, and their bodies where placed here by someone else. Weather that be the son, the person who killed them, or another person that came across this house just like we had. 

I was able to pull my gaze away from the table, as I turned around and held onto Bree. I was terrified, and confused, but felt the need to comfort her. I rapped my arms around her, as she laid her head on my shoulder. I tried to console her, as I continuously said its okay, and that she will be okay. I lead her out of the house, as the sun began to spill in through the cracked and broken windows. There would be no chance of sleeping in that hell hole. We continued down the street, my left arm still holding on to Bree as we walked.