A World Alone - A Zombie Novel

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Stella P.O.V

I hold the red backpack up in front of me. It's color isn't as nice as my old one, not as dark. But it's better than the garbage bag I've been lugging around. Pouring its contents out onto the floor, I quickly transfer everything into my new bag.

Click.

I glance up from the floor. Peering around the small room, I wait a moment before zipping the bag shut. My knees ache as I stand up from the floor, my eyes continuing to dart between every corner of the room. I'm sure I heard something. Frowning, I strain to listen.

Thud.

My forehead creases in irritation as I look up at the ceiling above me. It was probably Logan or Joey, rummaging around upstairs. It annoys me that they aren't more quiet, if I can hear them from downstairs, who knows what else can hear them?

Slinging the bag strap over my shoulder I move to leave the room, but stop. An infected man walks into the garden outside, slowly shuffling passed the window. I stand still, watching him through the glass, hoping he doesn't see me. He pauses, his bald head, covered in bloody scratches, looks up towards the sky.

He sniffs the air for a moment, before walking again, his steps restricted by the brambles and small bushes of the garden. I sigh in relief when he moves passed the window and out of sight, but my breath catches in my throat when I hear the indistinguishable creak of an opening door. My stomach drops as a single thought swims to the forefront of my mind.

Did I remember to shut the front door?

With clenched fists I dash towards the open archway of the living room. My eyes widen as I see the front door slowly but surely opening, the infected already half way inside. I can slam the door shut on him, but that would only bring his attention towards me. I curse under my breath. It's too late now anyway.

Crouching down beside the wall, I poke my head around the side in time to see his dirty boot step into the threshold. I pull myself back, my breathing heavy.

Thump.

I glance up at the noise.

The infected makes a small cry at the back of his throat, as if acknowledging the sound. With a racing heart, I peer around the side of the wall again, just in time to see him trudging towards the stairs. His arm already stretching out towards the railing.

That's not good, I think, my muscles tensing in distress. I throw myself away from the wall and quietly run towards the back door of the small house. Goddammit, I knew we shouldn't have stopped. We should have just kept walking to the stadium.

I throw the door open as quietly as I can in a rush, its blinds rattling against the glass as I run out into the backyard. I turn back towards the house, looking up at the second floor windows. They're all empty, neither of them are near a window, goddammit!

Jumping in the air I wave my arms above my head, hoping that they'll catch sight of me. But they don't. I glance around the garden, looking for anything heavy enough that I can throw. There's nothing.

Cursing under my breath I run towards the gutter pipe that stretches up the wall of the building. I drop my bag on the ground and hesitate, wondering for a moment if there's anything inside I can use to catch their attention. I decide against it, not wanting to waste anytime looking. I grab the pipe roughly and give it a harsh shake, testing its dependability. It shakes violently but doesn't tear away from the concrete.