Undead Kids

A deadly virus incapacitates the nation, turning it into a dog eat dog world. Two kids find themselves on the sharp end of the knife and are forced to band together to survive this hellish world, but their paths are forked. One seeks answers, one seeks a new start, and things must eventually come to a head if they hope to make it through together.

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1. Insight

 

    “The first sign is a cough.”

 

    Jacob looked up from his sleepy stupor. This thing, this apocalypse, it didn’t let you rest much. He had gotten five minutes, maybe ten, of sweet, surrendering calm. “What?”

 

    “Coughing.” She repeated. The way her eyes gazed lifelessly at the ground reminded him of the stigma that followed war veterans. They’d seen so much they’d just stare off and ramble about the war, or at least they would in the movies. This world turned them into soldiers. “It starts off as coughin’, like a flu or somethin’.”

    

    “I know.” He answers back. He feels the need to comfort her, but with what? The phrase “Everything’s going to be alright” was obsolete now. So he humors her instead.

 

    “Coughing, an’ then, they just kinda stop. Shut down. Like when, when your phone freezes up?” She looked up with a sudden recognition in her eyes, and they were staring right at him, furrowed in confusion realization. “Yeah, just like that. They stop. Start getting pale within an hour or two, sunken in like they haven’t eaten. They don’t either. They just stop everything.”

 

    He bows his head, no longer able to keep eye contact. He was watching somebody break. “I’ve seen that. City was full of ‘em this morning, just standing around li-”

 

    “Like they were already dead.” The way her tone reaches him is like the punchline in a horror movie. The last utterance the survivor gives, before her throat is torn out by a monster. A shiver climbs it’s way up his spine. “Some of ‘em still talk. Y’know. A little bit after, when they’re not so sick but just about to be? My friend was like that.”

    

    “What happened to him?” That was a poor choice of words.

 

    “What the fuck do you mean ‘What happened to him?’? He fuckin’ turned, what the hell do you think? Started, started puking blood everywhere, screaming and crying a-and then he just stopped, got all pissed off and shot off at his girlfriend like a rocket. Ripped half of her face off man. Zombies eat people, y’know? He just fuckin’ ripped her apart.”

 

    “I saw one eating a girl, by the gas station.” He’d usually do this in casual conversation. One person shares an experience, he shares a similar one. It wasn’t quite the most comforting thing to do, but if he pretended he could have casual conversation, maybe it’d feel better. She didn’t respond, and Jacob let a certain feeling of guilt wash over him.

 

    “What’s your name, kid?” Her choice of words after a few minutes of silence struck him as odd. She was in his school, and more so looked to be a freshman. She was the kid here.

 

    “Jacob. Jacob Walsh. I’m a sophomore.”

 

    “So am I.”

 

    “You don’t look like one.” Jacob cracks a smile at her. She returns it with a bewildered look.

 

    “I - I know. I’m Lucy.” He half expects her to extend her a hand. An act of formality would be nice, but she’s still shivering and looks terrified. Her fear calms him, in a way, allows him to take control of the situation. Was that bad?

 

    “It’s nice to meet you. I like your shirt.” He points to it and she follows his finger with her eyes, realizing now she had a Call of Duty shirt on. Black Ops 2 was his current favorite game, he was going to play it later tonight. He felt himself frown as he realized videogames were out of the question.

 

    “There’s blood on it, from Mr. Gastin.” She replied softly.

 

    “Oh.”

 

    A loud crash from outside, following by hellish snarling, breaks the awkward silence. Lucy grips the lower end of the pipe she had been carrying and raises it front of her. In all the zombie games he’s ever played, he’s always preferred melee weapons. Dead Rising 2, Left 4 Dead 2. Ammo was hard to come by, but blunt objects were plentiful. It was so easy to press x and hit a fake zombie, no real threat pressing, but how was it in real life? Was it that simple too? She whimpers, and he edges closer.

    

    “I think that’s Mr. Gastin.” She whispers, frantically looking from the doorknob to Jacob. “I’m such a fuckin’ idiot, I should’a killed him. He, he had his throat town our or slashed or something, I just freaked out and hid in here. Now we have a two hundred pound zombie gym teacher. Oh, fuck, fuck fuck fuck.”

 

    Jacob turned to the door. He had him for gym his freshman year, that stupid, over entitled asshole gave him hell day in and day out. Come on fat boy, run up them stairs. You’re failin’, J, ‘cause you can’t lift a simple weight. Weak lil’ boy.

 

    “Give me the pipe.” Without waiting he snatches it from her hands, causing her to flinch, and then grab after it. A hushed cry of frustration escapes her lips. “Don’t -” He brings his index finger to his own. The lumbering beast outside their door is quiet now. “I’m gonna smash his goddamn head in, and then you can have it back.”

 

    “You’re going to what?” As if her eyes could get any bigger, they widened further, two azure eyes staring in disbelief. They were pretty, he noted.

 

    “Bash his undead skull in.” He replied casually, even offering a slight smile. He wasn’t that scared, hell, he’d done this a thousand times before. “Stay in here, I’ll come an’ get you when I’m done.”

 

    “You’re fucking stupid!” She hisses at him, her hand now clutching his dominant hand’s wrist. “He’ll bite you, a-and you’ll die, a-” Jacob jerks out of her grip and throws open the door, and it slam shut behind him. Mr. Gastin is behind the teacher’s desk, staring with a fierce rage at the sound that startled him. Lucy was right, his throat was a globby, leaking mess, crimson ooze dribbling down the front and side of his shirt. A bite mark, sloppily carried out, had ripped out a nice chunk of his neck. Maybe even caught the artery, which would make sense on why he died so quickly. He’d seen him less than an hour ago, rushing kids into the gym.

    

“Hey there, Rodrick.” Jacob cooed, coaxing the monster over. “That’s your name, right? Yeah? Mr. Rodrick Gastin?” It was clear by the tone of the young man’s voice he was enjoying this far too much than he should. He sauntered closer as the beast did the same, smacking the pipe against his hand like a cocky movie thug. “Who’s fat boy now, you prick?”

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