Well, I've done it again. I've gone and started another story before I was even halfway done with the last one. I was too excited about this idea; I just had to get something on paper. From this intro, it will seem like "just another zombie story", but I have a few unique ideas that will come along as the story progresses (if I don't start another story before I get that far). Anyway, I still plan on continuing "No More Fear" but this story may end up stealing more of my time because I think it will be something really enjoyable to read, if I can pull it off the way I hope I can. Enjoy.
Children of the Dead
By Adam Miller
It was dark and the empty house was quiet, but Jake wasn’t afraid of the dark or the quiet. He’d long since learned that the silence was his friend. It meant he wasn’t being chased by one of those monsters. The grown-ups on TV called them zombies, but to Jake, they were something out of a nightmare. He used to be afraid of the dark, but that was back when darkness was something he could control. He remembered back to what seemed like a lifetime ago, before the monsters took away his mommy and daddy, back when he was afraid of the dark and his mommy would just turn on the little light by his bed and the darkness would go away. His mommy couldn’t do that now. She was gone forever. His bed was gone too, left behind in the house they ran from when the monsters came out of the night and changed the life he knew. They took it all away. His bed, his room, his toys. His mommy. His daddy. Everything he once knew, except what he brought with him. He hated the monsters. Hated them with all the life he had left in him. Which wasn’t much. He was seven years old and small for his age, but his daddy told him he was the toughest kid he knew. His daddy taught him how to play baseball and let him be on a team at school. Jake loved hitting the ball. He loved the feel of a solid hit as the wooden bat he clenched in his fists vibrated with the blow. He was good at hitting the ball right where he wanted it to go; short, long, high or low. His daddy always told him how proud he was of Jake. Jake’s daddy bought him his very own bat for his birthday. Jake loved the bat. When mommy told him to grab whatever he could carry, it was the first thing he thought of. Him mommy packed some clothes in his favorite backpack, the one with Spiderman on it, and shoved Jake’s teddy bear into his empty hand. Jake almost left the bear behind. He felt like he was too big for it, even though he’d had it as long as he could remember. But now that his mommy and daddy were gone, Jake was glad he kept it. It reminded him of his parents. He squeezed it to his chest every night, and squeezed it even harder when he felt the tears trying to come. He hated crying. He was too old to still be crying like a little baby, even though his mommy always called him that as she tucked him in every night. “You’ll always be my baby,” she’d say. Then she’d lean down and kiss his forehead.
There was no one to tuck him in any more. Jake was alone now. He’d been alone for seven days. Every morning when he woke up, he would add up the days and remember the number. Seven days since the monsters took them away. He hated the monsters. He hated the dark. He wasn’t afraid of either of them anymore, but he hated them all the same. They were both apart of life now and he knew how to deal with both of them. He knew when the darkness would be coming and he made sure he was in a safe place before it arrived. He knew to stay quiet at night and listen for the moans and smell the air for the stench that some of the monsters brought with them. He knew to hit the monsters on the head with his bat if they got too close, and to keep hitting until they stopped moving. He didn’t like getting close to the monsters, so usually he stayed very quiet and avoided them whenever he could. There were a few times when he couldn’t go around them or the monsters had chased him and he had to use his bat. Then he remembered listening to his mommy scream when they took her, remembered his daddy yelling at him to run, to get away. The monsters were slow and clumsy and they were usually much taller than Jake. This wasn’t a problem for him though. The monsters always came down to his level, trying to bite him, and then he’d swing his bat like his daddy taught him to, with all his strength.
During the day, he moved, searching for food. Always searching for food. He didn’t eat much, only two snacks a day. He had enough food in his Spiderman back pack to last about five more days. He didn’t usually have any trouble finding food where he was. There were plenty of houses to check and he usually found something in every house he came into that he could eat. He always made sure his backpack had as much food and water as it could hold, in case he had to run. Though Jake was only seven, he wasn’t stupid. He remembered the things his parents had taught him after they ran. How to survive.