Bite Me

Chapter One

Chapter One:  "Step aside, big brother."

Grace's POV

Everything was so quiet these days. Eerily quiet.

No longer did I hear the rumble of cars, the echos from the highway, the garbage truck driving by every week. Walking down the street of this now-abandoned neighborhood, it all came back to me. I never really took notice to the noise I always used to hear, but now that its gone, I missed it.

I missed a lot of things I used to have before everything was screwed over. Music, internet, friends, even school. Most of that was gone now—but I did my best not to dwell on it. Other survivors were going through it too.

"Zach, seriously, put an inch in your step," I called back to my brother, keeping my voice quiet enough in case any infected (one of our many names for the living dead that now roam the earth) were around.

His head turned toward mine from whatever he was staring off at, and he began to jog towards me, matching my pace. Zach was a couple years older than me—I being 16, him 18. We were total opposites, looks and personality. He was the quieter type, with blonde hair,  nicely tanned skinned, and chocolate brown eyes.

I, on the other hand, was all contrast: brown hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. I was always more outgoing and bubbly—cracking jokes most of the time. Sometimes, I wondered how we were even related.

"Grace." Zach's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Let's check out this house—the doors are closed, hopefully it isn't already ransacked. There might be supplies."

Walking towards the small, two-story home, I pulled out my trusty ax (which I've become surprisingly good at using over the last month or so), just in case any infected were lurking on the inside. The ax I'd acquired was a half pickax, half chopping ax (I never bothered to figure out the proper name), with a pointed, pickax-like spike on one side, and an ax blade on the other.

Zach wiggled the knob of the front door, and to our luck it was locked—meaning it mightn't have been searched through already.

"Step aside, big brother," I said as I approached the entrance, positioning the pointed blade of my ax between the door and the outer edge. Giving it a few good pulls, the door split open.

My brother rolled his eyes. "You have to do that every time we open a door?"

"Well, yeah," I shrugged, stepping inside. The floorboards creeked under the boots I was wearing as I scanned the living room we entered. My ax is raised as I walked by a mahogany table, located next to a beige couch.

I kicked the wall separating the living room from what seemed to be the kitchen a couple times, hoping to attract any infected that may be in the house. My dad told me about that strategy—he had said, "I'd rather you break your foot attracting those damn monsters than be eaten by one of them."

That was another thing to add to the list of things I missed—my parents. We'd been on the highway the night all hell broke loose, trying to make it to I-95 when we lost Mom. There was so much chaos; a huge backup for starts. The cars were completely stopped and there was no way through. A whole swarm of the infected came bounding out of nowhere and we were forced out of our cars. Mom was ripped right out of my hands during our escape.

Dad, though, was another story. Him, Zach and I were in a convenience store, raiding for supplies. Soon, we were surrounded by the things that have ruined our earth. He gave up his life to save ours.