Their Infected Story

Two: A Not So Empty Home

Clay placed his pale hand on his doorknob. He closed his eyes before taking a deep breath. The man held it for about three seconds then let it all out.

He opened his eyes, looking up at the door which lead outside. The dangerous world.

Turning the knob slowly, Clay readied himself for what was to come. He quickly opened the door, taking in the fresh air but nasty odor.

Clay looked around to see his empty neighborhood. It was early in the day, and the sun was just peeking over the mountains in the back.

It was a pretty sight. He enjoyed it so much, he almost forgot what the plan was. Clay straightened himself up and took a step forward, then two.

Litter had dusted the roads and overgrown lawns. Most trees were alive but some were just old and creaky.

Clay walked down his sidewalk, taking in all of what had happened in the past. Taking in his best friend's dead body which lay in someone's yard, decaying. Still.

He had continued down the road, still a bit scared of what could creep up. The man would turn around every once and a while just to be sure he wasn't being followed.

At the end of the street, Clay decided on what side he should take. He knew he didn't have much time. Not at all. He had to find survivors and a place to stay for the night. Not only that, he needs more ammunition for his pistol.

So, Clay had chosen to go right.

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Loud knocks were heard. The blond man, known as Clay, waited outside the dirty looking home.

Nope, nothing. So he walked away and went to the next house. Again, knocking on the wooden door, waiting.

It was another no until a voice was heard. It was muffled and filled with static.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" The voice had said before the static went away.

Clay stepped up on the porch, looking over at the camera which pointed right at him. It was lit up, a red dot in the center of the lens.

The man looked back down at the doorbell.

"M-My name is Clay. I'm here to find survivors...." there was no response, so he continued. "See, about two years ago, my little sister was taken." He paused before bringing out a piece of paper from his bag. Clay lifted it up to the camera. "That's her. I want to get her back and I need help. I'm lonely and desperate for a place to stay for the night." He took the paper down, showing his freckled face. "Please help me."

Silence was his answer. He still stood, waiting for the voice to come back. After about thirty seconds, there was still no response.

Clay sighed, averting his eyes down at the dirty mat.

"Listen---" he looked up at the camera "---I have no one. I've been locked up in my home for years. I haven't spoken to anyone since. I beg you...to not let me stay out here for the night. It's getting dark and I'm afraid. I'll do anything..." he begged.

It was still quiet. Clay had just been put down a bunch. He obviously wasn't getting in this house. The blondie was about to step down and walk away before the static came back.

"Fine." Clay looked up at the doorbell. "You may stay. But.....I want all your weapons placed onto the table when you walk in. Understand?" Clay nodded. "Good." And the door unlocked.

With hesitation, he grabbed onto the knob and turned it. Pushing it open, he was met with cold air.

He stepped in and shut the door behind him. The room was small and dark. It was also very dull. A couch was placed against the wall across from him, a coffee table right in front of it.

His gun, ammo, knife, and fire starter was placed on the wooden surface. Clay stepped back and waited.

The blondie's hands were clasped together in front of him while he kept his eyes on the carpet. The carpet that got dirty from his combat boots.

His attention was brought over to the small creak about fifteen feet away from him. There was a white, wooden door where he was staring. It was open just a little, nothing could be seen through the small gap.

Clay still stared even when nothing was happening. Just then, two eyes appeared from behind the door. It startled the blond man, but he was so happy to see another human.

His eyes watered a bit. After so, so, so, so long, he's finally seen another human being. And when the door opened a bit more, Clay had realized it was a pretty human being.

All Clay had seen was the brown hair until they stepped out cautiously.

The boy had pretty brown hair, brown eyes, an oversized, pink t-shirt, sweatpants, which were grey, and fuzzy socks. And Clay couldn't forget how pale and skinny he was. Same with how short he was, too.

He looked fragile and scared. Clay took that as a, 'time to back up a bit'. So he took some steps back until his boots hit the front door.

The boy still didn't come out. He just closed the door some more, hiding behind it.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I'd probably end up just giving you a big hug." Clay laughed. "I haven't seen anyone else for so long. I wouldn't dare hurt someone who's trying to help me. Or...since you're the only one I've found." His smile started to fade as he realized nothing was working. "Uhm...I have some food if you're hungry. I've only got some break and canned fruit, though..."

Clay looked back up at the boy who seemed like he was slowly coming out from the door.

"You don't have to be shy. I'm a very friendly person." Clay tried again. And finally, the other had opened the door and waddled out.

He inspected Clay, making sure he had dropped all his weapons.

"Bag, floor." The brunette pointed to the carpet before Dream slid his bag off of him and tossed it on the carpet next to his weapons.

Once the boy made sure Clay was empty handed, he sighed of relief.

"Follow me." The brunette started walking down his stairs where the door was. Clay followed.

"So...what's your name?" Clay asked as he reached the bottom.

"George." He said to the blond man. "I'm twenty-four, you?" He turned to face him.

"Twenty-one." Clay responded.

"Oh wow. I wish I was that young---"

"You look like you're seventeen." The blondie cut him off.

"Why does everyone say that?" He continued down the hall before opening another door.

It was a cozy room. There was a tiny heater to the left, bean bags around the room, a memory foam mattress placed against the wall in the back, there was a mini fridge over to the right, and a coffee table in the center of the room.

"Make yourself at home. I'm going to get some food and I'll be back, 'kay?" Clay nodded at the other before the room went empty.

The blondie looked around the room and placed himself on one of the bean bags.

He has finally made a new friend. Finally. He's so happy right now, he wished Drista was here. She'd've had a crush on George for sure.

Clay laughed at that thought. He also hoped George would come back soon, he was hungry. The blondie hasn't eaten all day.

Just then, the brunette came through the door with a plate and smiled softly. He walked up to the blond and showed him what he had.

"Pop tarts?"