Eyes of the infected ✔ [COMPLETED]

Chapter eight

CHAPTER EIGHT


‘3..2..1..’
‘Go!’
Keith went first, unclicking the door and breaking into a sprint towards the car, myself just behind and Lucas only a step behind me.
It all happened so fast.
Out of nowhere, the growls and screeches started, gargled moans coming from just to our left. I made the mistake of turning to look and froze at the sight of several infected from the neighbours garden snapping their necks towards us.
‘Go, go!’ Lucas yelled, giving me a forceful shove in the direction of the car. It was  all I needed to bring me back to Earth, my brain forcing my hand out to try and wrench the back door of the Honda open.
It was locked.


‘No, no’ I muttered exasperatedly, noticing Keith slamming the drivers seat closed behind him. It took Lucas only a millisecond to notice my door wasn’t opening.
‘Get over here!’ he pulled his foot from the car and tried to grab me but it was too late, I could already feel their breath on my neck, their growls in my head.
‘Go!’ I screamed, wondering if I was going to die but knowing that I didn’t want anyone to die with me. My question was answered when a rough hand gripped my arm and yanked me backwards till I stumbled and fell onto my back, groaning in pain.
Yes, I was going to die.


 It was nothing like when I was alone in the bathroom, I had some hope there, I waited for a miracle and it came in the form of my brother. But now, deformed human faces were beginning to loom over me, snarling, bloody and horrific. Even my brother didn’t have the strength to pull me from their skin-ripping grip as blood from their faces began to drip over my clothes. Scrambling backwards I began to choke on my own breath, this was the sort of thing nightmares were made of. They were so close to me, terrifying in the flesh without a barrier separating us.


They were humans, people like me, but their faces were contorted with rage, clothes ripped and skin roughened and tinted a pale colour; the colour of death. Their arms ripped through the air jerkily to try and grab me, their movements quick but precise. Close up I could see the blood splotches in their pupil-less eyes, the rips in their skin and the individual strands of hair falling from their head and eyebrows. The growls emitting from their pale lips were louder, more terrifying, sending shockwaves through my body and goosebumps rising from my skin.
In short, they were just ‘the infected’ now. Could they think, could they control themselves? Who knew, I surely would never know.
Oh god, how could this be it?


‘Harley!’
I couldn’t die, there was so much to do still. But their arms were relentless, shimmying backwards into the road had bought me a few more seconds but there were at least twenty infected grabbing for me and only two people who could save my life, both who were behind the crowd.
I thought I’d die of old age, not as a zombie.
A zombie.
I’d finally admitted they were zombies.
Keith would be so proud.


I tried to stay quiet as a large man with no hair and bloody hands with several missing fingers emerged through the crowd and dived on top of me. Although I was choking on my own sobs as it all unfolded, I didn’t want to scream, to make my brother hurt more. My life would end and it had only just started, I could have done better, this was never how I should have gone, I had so much more fight left in me. I’d do anything, make deals with the Devil, with god, with anyone if I could just see my mum one last time.


My last inch of hope depleaded as I felt blood dripping from the infected man’s mouth cover my neck, chest and arms. I was covered in open cuts with my sheer clumsiness, there was a 100% chance the infected blood was now surging through my system, ruining my brain and deleting all the perfect memories I’d made along the way.


My arms were sore from holding this man’s face from my own, his jaws clamping in mid-air as many other infected tried to get to me, screeching and attracting all the more. Somehow though, the fact this man was fat prevented them from access to me, maybe that was my miracle. Maybe that was the leverage I’d been given.
‘Harley!’
It was my brother screaming, I could hear the tears in his voice.
The strangled scream errupted from my chest before I could stop it, all plans to stay quiet gone. It was selfish but I needed to let it out, my own shrieks gave me further strength to avoid the saliva and blood the infected man was spitting towards me. The sound of my own death just made me cry more and more until Lucas’ voice sounded though he himself was fighting a losing battle.
‘Get off me!’ the voice was close, and it was not my brother’s voice.
Keith.
He was here, not in the car. Hadn’t he been in the car?
Keep fighting, keep fighting.
‘Harley?’ from the corner of my eye, I saw a struggle emerge as somebody fell to the ground.
Please not my brother.


And then the real miracle happened as the crushing weight was lifted from my slender body and I could suddenly breathe again. Fearing I didn’t have the strength to move was no longer a problem as my own body was lifted and gripped in a pair of arms. We were moving, running backwards towards the car. It all happened so very fast, too fast to comprehend, but I caught a glimpse of black jeans and a faded belt, and knew I was sin Keith’s arms.
He saved me.


As the world went black and I faded from consciousness, my eyes closed with the feeling of absolute security, and I knew I would never be able to pay him back for this very moment.