Unsteady Footsteps: Prologue

A/N: Ooh look it's one of those boring cliche zombie books! *let's out an exasperated sigh* I do understand that this is a cliche but what's not becoming a cliche nowadays? I'm still giving this genre a shot because even though it's a cliche, I find it quite fun to write :D

I know it's been years since they turned but I wasn't able to stop myself from thinking about my parents. It was when those soulless things came and tore them apart, obliterating every ounce of their existence. Now, they’re the ones tearing others apart; morphing humans into one of them. Their faces blank with the occasional groan and the shuffle of their stiff legs. The sound of one foot being clumsily planted onto the ground while the other is dragged along repeats over and over in my mind. I cringe whenever I’m reminded of my parents and their undead bodies.

I was nine when they turned. It was a seamlessly quiet day. But it was around noon I when heard low muffled grunts and unsteady shuffles from outside getting louder with every groan. My mom was opening a can of beans and my dad was doing target practice outside shooting at old glass Coca-Cola bottles. I didn’t know it at the time but there was a big herd of them; probably twenty or so searching to destroy anything that had a pulse. Soon I heard banging at the front door and a single human voice screaming something incoherent. It was too drowned out by the groaning to put a person on it. I ran from my place on the living room couch to open the door so I can hear them better. Must be some eager visitors. But I heard the clang of Mom's can opener as she rushed in front of me blocking my view of the front door. Her eyebrows furrowed as she craned her neck to take a peek at the window. She jerked her head back to me. Anxiety blanketed her face like a mask. 

Mom raised their voice over the noise but gripped my hand guiding me back to the kitchen where it was quieter, “No, Addie what did I tell you about answering the door?”

“Don’t answer it if it’s noisy outside.” I recited in a sing-song voice and made small growls similar to the ones outside trying not to giggle at the sound.

She gave me a sad smile and let go of my hand. My dad came from the backyard with a gun that he shoved in his jeans. My jaw dropped open at the sight and I quickly slapped my hand over my mouth. He never walks around the house with a gun! I wonder why he did. He knelt in front of me and so did my mom. She leaned in and whispered to Dad. His face contorted to the same expression Mom had. His voice stuttered and his eyes widened. In my parents’ attempt to conceal me from reality, they said that we were playing hide and seek. I twisted my nose and tilted my head to the side. I was too old to play hide and seek. But when I looked at their anxious faces and the worried looks in their eyes, I decided to play anyway. They must really want to play hide and seek.

Before we started playing Dad kissed me on my forehead. "I love you, honey," his voice broke and he smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. My mom's eyes looked like glass as she grabbed me into a long hug. But she quickly pulled back when we heard a crack of what sounded like glass.

They covered their face with their hands and started counting. Their voices cracked and trembled with every number; as if they’re counting the seconds until their death. But soon their voices faded as I ran giggling to find the best hiding spot. They'll never find me!

One…

I quickly rushed to find a hiding spot. I tried not to make any noise even though I wasn’t able to hear myself over the banging.

Two…

I kept switching hiding spots in the dark. All the curtains were closed. My parents said to never touch the curtains; now I understand why.

Three…

I ran down the hall and settled into a small storage room where we kept the canned food and medical supplies. It was the quietest place I could hide. I flinched when the sound of glass shattering triggered a wave of even louder grunts and shuffles that flooded the house.

Four…

My mom told me to not come out of my hiding spot until it was dead silent. I heard stifled cries of agony from the living room, where my parents were counting. I heard the sound much like the knife of a butcher followed by the crunch of bone. I winced as I bit down on my lip to keep me from crying out. Tears and blood streamed down to my chin. I stared at the dark labels of the canned peaches concentrating on the ingredients rather than what I was hearing. My eyes burned by staring at it too long so I rubbed them with the heel of my hand but continued to stare at it. Just when I thought it was safe I heard shuffles coming towards my hiding spot. I held in my breath not wanting to make a noise (also it was starting to get really smelly). I cringed when the shuffling stopped at the closet door right in front of me. But it soon broke the never-ending silence between me and whatever it was behind the door and continued to lumber on.

My eyes were growing tired as I tried to fight against it. I kept having to jerk my head back to stop myself from falling forward. I wasn’t able to keep myself from yawning so I shoved my sleeve in my mouth and took a deep breath trying to muffle the sound. A little voice escaped me and I slapped my hands over my mouth as if trying to erase whatever noise I made. I wasn’t able to help myself and I propped up a small bag of rice to use as a makeshift pillow and laid my head against it. I closed my eyes and let myself fall into darkness. As I was drifting off I heard the faint sound of a car engine but it soon faded away.

I woke up feeling groggy. I tried to stretch my stiff limbs in the confined space and yawned. I tried to wipe away the tiredness from my eyes. I pressed my ear to the door, my eyes subconsciously shifting as if looking for a sound. It was 'dead silent' and I slowly creaked the door open. I wanted to go to the kitchen to get some water; I haven’t had food or water in what seems like days. These past few days we were on a water supply shortage. We still have a bit of running- I mean dripping water from the faucet in the kitchen but my mom wouldn't let me drink it. I thought maybe I was able to take a sip since I was so good at hiding that that could be my reward. When I looked down the hallway, I was bombarded with the smell of rotting fish. My face contorted with disgust and I covered my nose with my sleeve. I looked around me and saw blood smeared on the floor and the walls around me.

While I tiptoed my way to the kitchen trying to avoid the blood, I saw it- him, whatever that thing was. My whole body stiffened when I saw my dad and my mouth was left agape. As if the sight of him created a shot of numbness to develop within me; leaving me paralyzed. He was sprawled out on the kitchen island and was stretching his arms as if reaching for something. His eyes were the color of spoiled milk and his mouth was dry and pale along with the rest of his body. There was a gaping wound on his neck where he was bit. It felt like something was lodged in my throat because I couldn't breathe.

All warmth left my body when I noticed I could find mom anywhere. Where is she? My head whipped in all directions to search for any sign of her. All that was left was even more blood and dad- or what used to be him.

Something black caught my eye. My dad’s hand gun was on the ground next to a severed leg. I winced as I bent down to pick up the gun. A note was taped onto it: To keep you safe. I didn’t really know how to use a gun. Well, I’ve seen dad hold it up to a target and squeeze his finger on a lever thing but that’s about it.

My heart must have been beating so loud because my dad- the zombie was shuffling towards me as if he could hear it too. Without thinking, I whipped around and aimed the gun to his unresponsive brain. I can’t shoot him with his own gun. But he was coming closer.

“Dad!” I tried to yell but my voice was breaking, “Dad listen to me! Please Dad!” He was coming closer so I put pressure on the lever thing like I used to see him do. My throat felt like it was on fire. “I don’t want to do this, Daddy, please come back!”

I shut my eyes as I heard his strangled groans grow louder. Closer. I cringed and pulled my finger back. I flinched at the loud bang and fell backwards because of the impact. That was the first time I ever shot a gun. I saw his blurry body collapse on the ground twitching. Slowly the carcass turned still as tears dripped down my face like a leaky faucet. My lungs were crying out in agony as I was gasping for air between the wails. Pain tore me from the inside out. I looked back at Dad; his eyes staring back at me eyebrows turned up as if he was asking 'What have you done?' I let my head fall back on the cold tile. Short breaths escaped my throat as I thought t myself. What have I done?

Hello! I'm back XD I hope you liked it! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Also, I was wondering if you guys liked the title. It kinda describes the way zombies walk :P Thanks again for reading!