If Tomorrow Never Comes- A zombie novel

Chapter 1

The dripping sound of water from the bathroom faucet broke the silence of the otherwise silent house. Bloody hand prints, drag marks, and bits of flesh hinted at the horrors that had transpired. It doesn't get any better than this Max thought as he hauled away the decomposing corpse; the ripe smell of its rotting flesh assaulted his nostrils.

The late afternoon air washed over Max, greeting him, purifying him from the smell of the inside of the house. He hauled the body through the open sliding glass door and into the backyard, tossing it onto the growing pile of dead. Next to the mountain of corpses was an open pit, a mass grave for them to be dumped in and forgotten. There would be no mourning, no one was left who still remembered these people. Maybe there were, but they were long gone from the area, and the thoughts of dead family or friends the farthest from their minds.

"Dang it", Max muttered under his breath, trying to shake off the muck which was clinging to his hands. He opted out and wiped them on the leg of his jeans before walking back into the house intent to give his hands a good washing - possibly in some bleach.

Skylar was focused on cleaning up the muck on the walls and floors. She wanted some sense of normality. It hadn't been long since the dead rose and started eating the living, but her old life seemed light years away. She scrubbed hard at one section of the wall, trying to clean everything away. She jumped at her brother's voice; "Can I have the bleach."

She looked up at him as he stood there expectantly. "What?" He sighed before asking for the corrosive cleaning product once again. She handed it to him then returned to her task at hand.

Stopping and looking back up at her brother. "You okay?" Concern etched the young woman's features.

"Yeah, just got some dead juice on me. And I'm running on fumes. Need some sleep." He could have added the long list of things to his reply, but he wouldn't. Couldn't. Max was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying to etch out a living for he and his sister in a wold that had turned upside down. He couldn't tell her that every time he closed his eyes he was haunted by the gruesome and sometimes disfigured faces of the dead who prowled his dreams.

Or nightmares of Skylar being ripped apart and eaten alive. And also how he felt like a failure not being to keep his mom and baby sister alive. He just wanted to turn back time and be the twenty one year old that he was destined to be; attending college, having a serious girlfriend, and playing video games until his eyes exploded from too much caffeinated drinks and lack of sleep.

They had scavenged the kitchen cabinets after cleaning up, finding only some stale crackers, a can of tuna in oil, and two cans of chicken noodle soup. Skylar had fixed their meager meal, but neither complained. It was enough to keep them going for a day or two longer. Neither spoke as they ate, so the sound of loud snarls and grunts didn't startle them.

Max instinctively reached for his pistol - but he sent a silent prayer to anyone listening that he wouldn't have to use it. "Get down. Get down." He hissed at his sister.

They both paused, holding their breath. As if by some miracle holding one's breath would make the lurkers disappear. Three shadows shuffled by the front windows. Max counted the seconds which felt like an eternity. He was trying to figure out what could have attracted them to the house they were currently seeking shelter in. As if on cue one of the dead came bursting threw the front door. Max could have kicked himself for not properly securing it. The front of the door was glass and venerable.

Max rose from his huddled position and lead his sister to the stairway. He motioned for her to start her climb, but she was rooted to her spot in fear. They didn't have time for fear. The lurker had already righted itself and the others with it had started to come through the broken door as well. Max could hear their shuffling and see their dancing shadows on the wall. He pushed his sister urging her to get a move on.

She climbed the steps, Max close on her heels. One. Two. Three. Creeek.... - The fourth step gave off a loud groan. The dead inside started for the sound prompting the siblings to run the rest of the way up the steps. They ran into the first bedroom and slammed the door behind them. Together they tried to move the dresser, pushing it in front of the door. It wouldn't move though no matter how hard they pushed. Max looked down at its feet, they were drilled into the floor for safety. He could have cursed at their unluckiness.

The lurkers were at the door, scratching, clawing, and banging. They moved in a rabid fashion, throwing themselves at the barrier, trying to force their way inside. Skylar frantically looked for a means of escape. Max stood, focused on the door.

"We have to get out of here, Max!" The auburn pleaded with her brother. He nodded his head in agreement, but how were they going to breakout? The door cracked, the plywood bowed in under the force of the dead bodies assaulting it. "The window! We're going to have to jump." She said, her voice tinged with panic. Max ran over to the window, opened it, and looked down at the ground. It wasn't that high of a jump, they could make it.

The door cracked again.

A menacing hand reached through.

"I'll go first. Once I'm down you drop and I'll catch you." Skylar only nodded.

The door groaned under the assault once more. It wouldn't last much longer.