Taylor is a college student home alone when the outbreak hits her small town. One minute she is working on a project, the next she is hiding away from the monsters outside. Taylor will have to find it in her to survive until her parents can -hopeful...
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I moved into the church, moving straight to the kitchen area to clean myself up. I scrub at my hands, and arms and peel chunks off of me. I don't even know how that happened. With my adrenaline waning, my stomach gives a hard roll. I barely made it to the trash can before spilling out the contents of my stomach, then the smell of the old trash, and my puke made me dry heave. Stepping away I try to get a hold of my gagging.
"That was gross." It's from the boy from earlier. I shake my head at him, he steps farther into the kitchen to one of the large fridges. He opens it and after a moment he pulls out a water bottle. His face is cringing as he slams the fridge door closed. When he makes his way over to me, he hands me the bottle.
"Thanks." I take it, noting that it's warm. God, I wanted to puke again at the thought of the smell of that fridge.
"No problem, you did save me after all." He said it in a semi-jokingly tone, but his shoulders are hiked up to his ears. Giving away just how tense he is, and his eyes still had a wild look to them.
"You shouldn't have gone out there."
I didn't think his frown could get deeper, but I was proven wrong. "My sister's only six, her favorite stuffed animal is in our parent's car. She has trouble sleeping without it, and with everything going on. She's just been having more and more nightmares."
I felt for her, but it was still stupid of him. "The firefighters and police officers are clearing out more zombies. I'm sure they will let you get her toy soon."
"I wasn't sure if they would be able to clear them out." He said, his arms go around himself and something passes over his face. Like he's seen something that greatly affected him. When he speaks again, his voice is small, reminding me he's still just a child himself. "We were here when everything started happening. The cops couldn't handle it then, so I didn't have hope they would this time."
"But they are going to now," I reassure him. I had hope, with how many we killed I had hope that maybe this little town had hope. I at least had to believe that.
Otherwise, what was the point?
Soon the firefighters came in with the cops. There weren't many of them left, which was sad to see. A few officers in uniform, a few in button-down shirts and slacks, detectives I think, and some that may have been on their way home when shit hit the fan. Or maybe they ran to the station because shit was hitting the fan. The cops I knew weren't among any of them. My dad had only really had over close work friends, and not seeing a familiar face was heartbreaking.
The church people were more than happy to share what food was left with the cops. There was promise of food at the fire station, but the cops look like they haven't had a real meal in days. They looked gaunt, extremely tired, and like they haven't changed clothes in a week.
I didn't know what to do, I just knew there were too many people and I was tired. I had never been a fan of crowds. So I found my way into a quiet corner of the church, at a window to watch the outside world. Sort of standing by, waiting to see if any more zombies would show up. I guess I was still a bit high-strung, and now paranoid that something was going to sneak up and bite us on the ass.
It's just, in every horror movie, something did sneak up on the unsuspecting people at a time like this. We had defeated the hoard, no one in our group had died, no one was injured. I wanted to be prepared for whatever it was. Well, if there was even anything to be prepared for, other than the apocalypse.
