2020

~Beginnings

"Are ya bit?" The character spat, muffled.
"No sir." Eileen said, sternly. "We're from up the field, summer camp."
The male slowly unlatched the door they stood by, letting them in through the back door. The only one that wasn't boarded.
"Start showin' signs, ya are both dead." He snapped at them, waving around a rifle in his left hand. The man was old, in his late seventies, early eighties. He was curled in a hunch, a sweater balled to his waist, business pants and shoes preparing the outfit fully. Aside from him, the barn was nicer than Floyd expected, the floor smooth stone, the walls painted white, a dining table in the middle of the room with a radio, a kitchen, bedrooms, bathroom, the gutting walls lined with picture frames and knickknacks. Eileen mindlessly began to look at the pictures, the old man sadly looking at her as Eileen passed a redheaded female with beautiful black-rimmed glasses and lifeless eyes, a male with dark brown hair, green eyes, and a younger male, dressed in a navy uniform.
"My sweetheart and son," The elder caught her gaze, speaking up with coated emotion. "Wife died from cancer, son passed in service." He bleakly said, monotone. Though, the oldie glanced to the smooth stone, as if mourning.
"..Sorry." Eileen croaked, hearing the tone in his voice. "Your wife was beautiful." She tried to lighten the mood, being awful at it.
"Was, wasn't she?" He gave a small chuckle to the comment, then snapped back to his lecture. "You two, names, now."
"Eileen Cohen." Eileen muttered back, keeping stare at the pictures, moving from one to the next.
"Floyd McMillian." Floyd plainly mumbled, not leaving from the door he entered through.
"Alright, I hear ya both. Name's Fred Vender." He waved his right hand with a genuine smile. "Whatcha two here for?"
"Hoping you could tell us about the uh..Things outside." Floyd responded, leaning against the door.
"Ahh..Didn't cha hear the announcement?" Fred replied to the question, taking a stance by Eileen, protectively hovering over the front doors.
"No sir."
"Been blastin' all over the interwebs n' radios. Sorry to say, my radio broke couple hours ago. Though, I'll give ya the gist. Basically, those things out there are infected with somethin' unknown and there's no solution. They eat flesh n' stuff, weird folk. The only way to kill one of 'em is a bullet to the head or chest," Fred tapped his temple, then his heart. "I suppose you two will be stayin' here for a few days with me. It's a long way to the next town and vehicles ain't smart. The things are blind as bats, but are attracted with movement or noise."
Eileen looked back at Floyd, taking in the information. She moved her eyes to Fred, then wrinkled her nose to Floyd.
"Now, ya ain't got no reason to trust me. I'm some ol' geezer tellin' ya what's best for ya kids. But believe me when I say, it ain't easy. Survival of the fittest. I'm only lettin' ya in because ya guys are kids and he," Fred pointed to Floyd with a trembling hand. "Reminds me of myself when I was younger, hah."
"Now," Fred pointed to the direction of the shed outside. "There's a few beds in there. I'll unlock it. Ya guys are stayin' there, don't complain that it's cramped and you could die, because it's my offer. I don't gotta let cha stay here. Understood?" He nodded to confirm his own agreement, taking a pair of keys from his belt. Fred then unlocked the barn's back door once more, stepped out into the field and over to the shed, unlocking it. As Eileen and Floyd followed, he handed them each a key, having three in total. "Kitchen, bathroom, beds, window. It's a cozy spot, just awfully small. Anyway, goodnight." Fred raised a hand, escorted them in, then slammed the shed door shut.
Fred was right, though. Two beds on opposite sides, lodged in the corner above a single window. A kitchen with a fridge and two counter tops, sink and stove with built-in oven, smooth stone floors like the barn along with white painted walls, and a stairwell excluded to the side of the shack. Going down the flight, a singular bathroom; nothing more, nothing less.
"That guy is strange." Eileen muttered, sitting on her assigned bed. "He was twitching."
"He was?" Floyd asked, wrinkling his brows.
"Yeah."
"But at least he gave us the information we need. Next town isn't near us, can't use cars." Floyd groaned, flopping on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The lighting for this shack was horrible. Two lamps on two nightstands and a single bulb attached to a string, swinging freely overhead the kitchen.
"We need a map or something. Think he has one?" She asked, turning her head to look at him.
"Possibly. He's old, old people have maps, atlases, thick ass dictionaries and ency--"
"You can stop. I get it, old people are old fashioned." Eileen rolled her eyes, snuggling against the blankets. "I'm still tired. You woke me up too soon."
"Sorry for saving your life, Eil." Floyd snickered, closing his eyes as well.
The two drifted asleep, woken to gunfire a few hours later.