Homeward Z

One

It all started when I was fourteen, the disastrous apocalypse as they say in America.
Our plane was midair when the first infected I saw chased a flight attendant up the aisle. We hadn't even gotten to the ocean before our two am flight from Chicago came down with a crash. My father was in Oregon, the destination I had just left,  hours before to get home to mum. She'd been worried about me being so far from home with rumors of violence brewing. I wish she hadn't been right... I wish I hadn't gotten on that damn plane. Our pilots as usual locked themselves in their cockpit like they would to prevent terrorists from entering. The undead seemed rather uncaring, going for the first class passengers first. I struggled with my belts fingers shaking. I didn't know where to hide, I was the last row and for that probably the luckiest. The bathrooms had already been locked with children much younger than me by their mothers, who guarded the doors fervently. They had a cabinet behind them they stored food in, and as we had already eaten I knew that was my only chance to survive. A scream another row closer made me rush even quicker, yanking the door open as our plane tilted to the side suddenly. Oh no... someone had opened the forward door, a vacuum sucked everything out. It took all my strength to seal the door. Air was dwindling quickly as the plane plummeted. I was sure as I blacked out that I would not survive this...

I did though, when air returned it was with the scent of iron. My hand was impaled by the door latch that had bent inward. I held back my scream of pain and panic. I couldn't do anything, the door wouldn't even budge... blood continued to drop from my fingers and I noticed my head too. Where was I? Not the ocean thankfully but how the hell had I even survived. Crying outside alerted me that I hadn't been the only one. They could've been hurt and I couldn't sit in here forever. God damn it this is going to hurt. I bit my coat as I pulled my hand off the sharp, jagged pieces of metal. Blood poured even more from the wound. Don't black out, don't black out, I thought to myself. Instead of repeating it I began to kick against the door. After several tries it broke off with a metal clang. A growl ahead froze me in my tracks. A blonde woman, one of the mothers who had guarded the bathroom door was strapped in her seat, undead... her teeth chomped at nothing as the crying only got worse inside the bathroom. The woman didn't reach for me and I kicked the bathroom door in. A young girl with dark hair sat crying on the floor, a teddy bear soaked in blood on her lap.
With my good hand I dragged her out and into the back room that had miraculously survived. "Shh, it's going to be ok," I said.
"It hurts!" She cried and pointed to her stomach. I moved her shirt to find a huge laceration, not only that but her intestines had been torn. I thought I may puke then and there but held it back. "Shh... just hold this teddy bear and it'll be ok. Does it have a name?" I asked trying to distract this girl from certain death.
"No, I just call her bear," she said through racking sobs. "My momma, where's my momma?"
I didn't even glance toward the growling creature, she didn't need to know.
"She's off getting help, you'll see her very soon," I whispered and felt the dread of my lie. They would see each other soon...
"Am I going to die?" She asked, and I held back and other sob. "No, just go to sleep... this'll all be a bad dream... just go to sleep and wake up."
"Like Alice in wonderland? All I need to do is pinch myself?" She whispered, her voice growing fainter.
"Yes, just like that," I murmured and the little girl pinched  herself and died. It didn't take more than a few seconds for her eyes to shift into the ones her mother had. All I could think to do was grab the sharp metal that had impaled my hand only minutes ago. As the little girl went to lunge I brought it down with an almighty crunch that made me fall over sobbing and choking for breath. All of it was too much... was I dreaming? Was this a nightmare? The blood roared in my ears and with that I blacked out one more.

A warm hand was pressed against my neck when I woke again. "She's alive Tom, help me get her up."
I cried in protest as another hand brushed against bruises on my back I hadn't yet noticed. "Don't worry, we'll get you patched up," the first voice said. He was older than the other one he called Tom. That one's face was younger and probably not much older than me.
I was put in the back seat of a car, laid back and covered with a blanket, "hang in there kiddo," the older man said and drove to my surprise away from the accident. I sat up to look at the remains of the plane. It had only been my end of the plane to land here.. oh god, I was the only one to survive wasn't I?
"Lay back kiddo, you shouldn't strain yourself anymore."
I was crying though when I did... this wasn't a nightmare. It was real.
   Tom helped me out later and the older man who could only be his father opened the door to a wooden cabin. I began to struggle against the boy, "don't you bloody hell touch me!" I shouted and they both turned in surprise. Apparently none of them expected a raging Irish girl with more temper and red hair than sense.
"You're hand needs to be properly taken care of... I have supplies inside to patch you up."
"I'm bloody well not going into a strange house with two strange men. Ye patch me up here, or..."
"If I was going to kill you or hurt you we would've done it on the plane you were dying in. We can take you back or you can stop cursing and let us help you," the older man said.
I glared but nodded in submission, I believed they weren't going to hurt me.
I was sat down at a table and he pulled my shaking open, releasing another torrent of blood. "What did you do to it?" He asked in disbelief.
"I locked myself in a cabinet, the lock bent on impact and went through my hand."
"Tom bring the lantern close. I'm going to need all the light I can get. I'm afraid though a lot of this damage is going to be hard to recover from kiddo. You'll have to work at it constantly to keep it from going stiff."
"So ye're a doctor then?"
"No, I was just a medic in the army. Good thing is you'll live if you keep it clean. Bring my bag Tom while your at it."
"Yeah dad," he grumbled and disappeared into the shadows of the house. "I don't have very strong painkillers, would you prefer to be knocked out?"
"No, no I'd like to be conscious and have my wits about me. I'll take some whiskey if you've got it."
"How do you know that'll work?"
"Because I've been sluggard in the head before and me mum laces her medicine with whiskey."
He sighed but pushed a bottle toward me reluctantly. His son returned a few minutes later and took a seat. After a few liberal gulps of whiskey the pain didn't really mean much to me. I could even watch him stitch without yelling. Still my jaw was ground together painfully from the slashed tendons being messed with.
"Do you remember what happened?" The older man asked.
"So many questions, how about a name? I've yet to hear a name."
"John, and you already guessed my son's name is Tom. And you?"
"Bridget O'Conner, and yes I'm Irish."
He snorted and made me feel rather out of the ordinary, like a sore thumb...
"We've noticed, not to mention only an Irish girl could make those kind of words seem like cuss words."
"Well the bloody are to me," I grumbled and got another snort. He stitched it closed finally and sighed, "you're not going to be able to move it until it heals, I'm going to strap it to your chest and you're not to move it."
"Hey what ever works."
It drove me nuts not to have the use of one hand but losing it completely was worse. "Do you remember what happened?" John asked.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Can you tell us what happened..."
My mouth twitched, remembering that god awful panic. "Don't worry about talking about it, you're perfectly fine. I wanted to explain though that everything shutdown almost over night. We're going to be laying low until this wears out. Do you have someplace to go? Family here that could help."
"My father is stockbroker in Oregon but as we're a bit too East... I doubt he'll be of use to me."
"Then you might as well stay here, of course you'll be helping with the chores. What are you good at?"
"Cooking, dishes, gardening though is what I mainly did. My mum worked a lot and I had to put food on the table without a paycheck often enough."
"We'll be mighty glad if you could help us on that front then. we've killed anything we've ever grown."
"I'll take a look when the suns out."
"Good, now how about your head and back?"
"I think my back is just bruised, and you'll see more of my head than I do."
He sighed in agreement before washing the cut just in front of my ear. "It looked worse than it was, let me just slap a bandage on and Tom can show you to the guest room."
It was clearly a cabin where two men lived but also a home. There was a large fireplace made of stone with a couch and box tv in the living room. There was an outdated kitchen but one none the less and three bedrooms. Tom pushed open the last one in the hall and jiggled the knob, "it locks from the inside and we don't have a key, so don't worry about being bothered."
He went to close the door, "wait, do you know what happened out there today?"
His feet stopped in the doorway, "people got sick with a virus, they say the President is dead and there isn't a cure. I don't know about other countries though, maybe Ireland's ok?"
"Nothing like that ever only effects one side. I'm afraid to say it but..."
"Your home may not be any better?" He murmured. I nodded and tried avoid drifting onto the subject again. "I hate to be a nuisance but I don't have any more clothes. Mine went down with the plane."
He nodded, "dad said he'd take you back tomorrow to hunt down your suitcase or some fresh clothes. You'll just have to survive the night."
"Oh, well thanks I guess."
Tom shrugged once more before heading off. I closed the door and clicked the lock into place.