Project 196

Gone

The siblings whirled around not knowing what they expected to be behind them, but there was nothing. Nothing, as I repeat, not a human being, or zombie, not even an audio recorder there was nothing. The three children stood stock-still and it was dead silent. So quiet that they could even hear the moans of the zombies outside.

“Well than what was that?” Damon asked nervously.

“I don’t know.” Leslie said, but was only interrupted by another bought of talking.

“Who are you, Mister Sir?” a little girl’s voice piped up and Leslie instantly started laughing.

“Oh wow!” she said “We’re so stupid it-it was the TV, see look.” She pointed to the TV and they all turned to look, then they burst out laughing. Leslie grabbed the remote and turned it off laughing, hysterically. “I really needed that laugh.” Leslie said wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

Damon and Leslie laughed at that and just kept laughing, but Magenta wasn’t. She was staring intensely at the door, for she kept hearing a scratching sound, and moans. Then the hand of the undead burst through.

“Uh…guys.” She said nervously. “I think the zombies are breaking in.”

“What?” Damon and Leslie said in one breath.

“Look.” She said pointing to the door where and undead arm was crawling though.

“Oh my god!” Leslie yelled, hysterically. “What can we do?”

“Die.” Damon suggested in a lame attempt for humor.

“Shotgun!” Magenta yelled running upstairs as fast as her feet would take her.

“What’s she doing?” Damon asked Leslie who was walking towards the kitchen.

“Beats me.” She said. “But I’m gonna protect myself.”

“Huh?” Damon asked “We don’t have any guns or anything.”

“And we can improvise.” She said coming back with an armful of pots and pans. “With these.”

“Whoa!” Damon yelled when he saw his mother’s beloved pot sticking out from the pile. “Don’t you think mom’s gonna be mad if we get zombie juice on this?”

“It’s not she’s going to miss it.” She said scornfully kicking the remote from out of her way.

 “What is that supposed to mean, she’s coming back from work at five o’clock, Leslie, five!”

“No, she’s not!” she yelled back. “They’re gone, Damon, gone. Mom, dad, they’re never coming back their zombies.”

“Don’t say that!” Damon screamed. “We survived what makes you think they didn’t. They’re probably making their way home right now.”

“No they’re not Damon! Get that in your head they’re not coming back, not in an hour, not in a day, not in a week, never! They are dead. D-e-a-d with a capital D!” Their shouting match was interrupted by a loud bang. They both looked around and saw Magenta standing on the top of the stairs, a smoking gun in hand. A zombie lie dead only a couple feet from where Damon, and Leslie stood. A second bang resounded and the second zombie collapsed in the doorway.

“Where’d you get the gun?” Leslie asked in awe.

“Who cares about that where’d you learn to shoot like that?” Damon asked.

“All in good time siblings.” Magenta stated still at the top of the stairway. “Now siblings come with me.”

Shrugging Damon and Leslie staggered up the stairs to where Magenta waited. As soon as they reached the top Magenta started walking towards Damon’s bedroom. She forcefully pushed the door open and scanned the room. Finding his school bag she grabbed it and duped its contents out on the floor.