Empty Existences

Living with no one during a zombie apocalypse, Jocelyn is starting to get used to this new way of life. Up until one day, when she meets a peer. Follow Jocelyn as she lives in this world, where making sacrifices is the ultimate key to staying alive.


10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

       After about a half an hour, I decided to go back to the room and sleep. It’s pitch black in there, with only the light of the kitchen down the hall to illuminate the undersized room. It seemed like it was past twelve, with the darkness, but it was probably around ten. Since it was darker now, I couldn’t make out Amy’s sleeping body on the ground.

I felt around for her on the ground. When I felt her soft skin, her arm, I snaked around her and her mat. I felt the bed soon after, and climbed into the covers. A cool draft fanned down my shirt. Hugging the quilt closer to my torso with one arm, I propped myself up on my elbow. The crack on the window is obviously the cause of the problem. Closing one eye, I peep through it. A full, silvery moon rests in the opaque sky. I smile at the stars in the sky.

 There so much more visible now. Less pollution must have allowed such a clear, night sky.

Then, I hear a gurgling sound approaching. With a sigh, I lean back onto the bed.

The gurgling sound is quite loud now. The Turner must be wandering the streets, unconsciously searching for a bite to eat.

I can’t go to sleep, knowing one of them is so near. Covering my ears doesn’t work. Neither does squeezing my eyes and hiding my head under the covers.

 What if it discovers the hole in the wood?  What if it attracts others, and they knock down the wooden barrier protecting us? What happened to the glass in the window?

Stop thinking. Surely, a mob of Turners knocked down the glass in the beginning of all this.

With a gulp, I realize I can’t sleep. I won’t sleep. The terrible Turner sounds will not stop. Without a brief moment of hesitation, I push down the covers.

Once again, I get up and walk out of the room with less difficulty than before. I guess I’ve walked out a couple times too many, obtaining the correct route in this inevitable darkness.

I walk across the hall this time.

“You know, if you need anything, I’m right at the end of the hall. Opposite of yours…”

I breathe deeply and push the door open lightly.

Ethan is sprawled across his bed. The light from the kitchen spills into the room, spilling onto the sleeping figure of Ethan. He looked so peaceful and handsome.

I sigh quite loudly. He shifts in his bed, causing my hand to instinctively fly to my mouth to cover it.

“Mom?” he grumbles. His voice is low and throaty. And very attractive, may I say…

Uncovering my mouth, I clear my throat boldly. He looks in my direction, blue eyes squinting.

“Jocelyn?” he croaks quietly.

Immediately, he rubs his eyes and sits up in his bed. I just stand there in the doorway, speechless.

What am I doing?

He calls my name again.

If you don’t answer now, he might think you were bitten or something. God, answer the boy!

“I, uh, can’t sleep,” I whisper, tapping lightly on the doorframe.

He pats the space on the bed next to him, “Come here.”

My heart stops and my eyes widen at the invitation. What is happening here?

Despite the thoughts running through my mind, I inch closer to the eighteen-year-old male on the bed.

Ethan, wearing a white shirt and black pants, moves over to receive me.

Hesitantly, I slide into the bed. Although I trust him more than anyone else in this household besides Amy, I am still wary of the eager willingness in his voice.

He wraps his big arms around me, literally taking my breath away. My back facing his chest, he breathes. He has to be half-asleep. Maybe he’s just sleep-talking or something of the sorts. Ethan is not sweet and sympathetic. In fact, his regular behavior is contrary to his behavior now. I guess I should enjoy it as it lasts.

Then, I decide to nuzzle my head in his neck. He sighs.

“We all get scared,” he sings. I could hear the smile in his voice.

I smile at his statement, fondly remembering that earlier today, he had said the same words to me. I remember him patting my back softly.

My smile grows even bigger.

What should I say? What could possibly be appropriate to say now?

’I think you’re cute and nice. I think I like you, Ethan.’?

Don’t be ridiculous.

I exhale sharply. In a swift motion, I turn to face him.

What the hell am I doing? Without thinking, I lean in and kiss him on the cheek, near his nose.

“Jocelyn,” he murmurs softly, before I run out of the room.

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