Young Writers Society

The Zombie Stories Part 2

YEAR 3, MONTH 5, DAY2

THE UNDER-HOUSE BURIAL

The rotten corpses in that room have gotten foul. Combined with our unbathed odour, it gives rise to the most despicable odour. We have to bury them... somehow.

Then the idea came, though it was risky for we do not know what the consequences would be if we enter neutral lands which may or may not contain those creatures, we took it. In that room, we hammered the wooden floor, leaving a hole big enough to enter. We jumped into it and landed on soil. Our home is a behemoth contemporary mansion elevated by stone foundations. So it appears that our house has a basement, but it is untiled, all soil, and is of no use only until now. We were aware of the fact that creatures might have gotten there. There could have been a hole in the foundations and we didn’t know. Someone or something might have been lurking in the dark, but we were not eager to know that. We secured a small area first, checking if there was any zombie. When that was done, we bury the corpses and pray for them before leaving. We covered the hole with a carpet and put a cabinet over it. Under good conditions, there is going to be nothing that will enter through that hole.

YEAR 3, MONTH 5, DAY 27

MY UMBRELLA

I was that near to death. I was near for the eternal peace I’ve always coveted since that contagion started. But my mother took me away from what I wanted. Again, I thought of suicide, but this time, more for enactment.

For three years, I’ve been hiding under this rain of adversity through an umbrella of false hope. But as days passed by, the rain became heavier. Soon, I could no longer support myself from this umbrella. I had to accept the rain. But people wishes for me to not. Their convincing words and the smiles they gave to me were irresistible. With just one smile, I realized that there was still time left to hope. There was time to spare to exert the last of all hope you can ever conjure. I still survived the rain, with my umbrella and with my family, the reason I chose to survive. There was hope... somehow. But when will the people we hope for come? Tomorrow, next week, next month... never?

YEAR 3, MONTH 6, DAY 15

CULMINATION

Five of the strongest lives, the rest have rested. What we need is hope. We’ve been losing it over the days, especially with aunt dead. But with one massive twist, we gain it back instantly.

We were on the side of our weak mother when we heard a familiar rhythm. It was the resonance from a soaring chopper. For a moment, we smiled, but with an instant, we rushed to the roof. Thanks to aunt for painting that SOS sign. Finally, it would be of big help! At the top, there we saw five chopper meters ahead. We waved for it and immediately it passed us. Did they see us? Fortunately, yes. Almost half a kilometre away, those choppers made a U-turn. It was approaching us again, and we celebrated. Then we remembered mother. I, brother, and sister went inside while uncle was left on the roof. We ran for mother. Alas, she was bizarrely not in her bed. But we just left her a minute ago. The initiative immediately came that we need to separate and find her.

I ran all around the manor. I searched the living room, the dining room, but dealt no avail. Then I rushed in the kitchen, and then I heard a scream, obviously from my sister. I ran to my sister. I ran to her and eventually found out that she was apparently in her bedroom. There she was, lying down beside her bed, with blood all over her. She cried from pain. Her tears incorporated with her blood that continuously poured down from the open wound in her shoulder. She cried louder. And it was pain for my ears.

She was bitten by those zombies! But how would that be possible? How would a zombie get inside? While the bewilderment filled me, I was caught unaware. Something struck me in my back. A heavy figure had clutched into me. Then I realized it was a zombie. I ran around, trying to get rid of it. I screamed for my brother’s assistance, but he was too late. It slightly bit my arm. Its teeth pierced into my skin and with that short contact, I knew the virus got within me. Then the zombie fell, and I also fell to the floor from pain. When I looked up, it was my brother, carrying a blood-stained plank. He stared at me, with teary eyes and that profound worry. I tried to stand up, only to fall down again. I felt weak, too weak. I struggled to sit down on the floor. My brother sat down with me. He covered his face in misery and cried as loud as ever. I felt pretty stark over the moment because I knew I was going to be one of those zombies- a terrible future. My emotions: plain and bland. I felt no worry, no sorrow, only pain. That pain that made me beckoned a screeching cry from hell. How could a slight bite cause such pain?

Then from nowhere, a bullet shot crooned from afar. Who could that be? At the moment I heard that, the zombie lying down unconscious woke up. It stood and brother resorted to whack it again. But with another sound from a bullet, it fell revealing a soldier behind it. The soldier heard my sister cry, he shoot her to death as I immediately covered my bitten arm under my sleeves. The soldier asked us if we two were bitten. Cryptically, I nodded, and brother did nothing against it. I stood and followed the soldier outside. At the doors, there was a familiar figure. A figure of a senile woman, she had long gray stands of hair and had menacing wrinkles that were as if from a zombie. She was pale, very pale. The sad truth came when I realize it was my mother, my dead mother. At the temple of her wrinkled face was a clear bullet shot. How did she become one of them? A drop of tear slid down from my eyes. I wanted to go to her corpse, to hug her dead body, to be with her side to cry for her, but I did not. From all those days I stayed casual over this zombie tragedy, this was the only day I let go and cried. As I passed her, I perhaps have made the most dramatic of all silent cries.

We head outside of our manor. Our front yard that day was free from zombies at those days- a miracle indeed. The five choppers have landed with around fifteen other soldiers. Beside one chopper was my uncle. I ran for him, but a tall man had stopped me. He held my collar and pulled me back to him. He was standing tall in poise and dignity, he had muscles that were shear creepy, and had that grin that reminded me of deceptive demons in hell. The man asked me if I was bitten. I nervously disagreed. But he was not convinced. He took out some scanning device, scanned it into my eyes. The scanner blinked red, I knew that meant something, and that meaning was not good. The soldier grunted, he looked at me and said sorry, quite unsympathetically. Then I heard a bullet shot, and I instantly felt weaker. I fell to the grass, whilst reminiscing of my past. I was a happy child who grown to be a wealthy executive... then that zombie contagion broke out, and look where I’m now. I was dying, but I wondered why I felt no pain. The last thing I saw was light, and it was the most beautiful thing ever.