If Looks Could Kill ch. 4

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I was feeling much better the following Monday. My fears of the wild dog (yeah I've researched a bit wolves normally don't come into the city nor do they attack humans without provocation) and I threw out that picture of the "wolf'. My shoulder even stopped hurting, the scratch marks from the claws faded until they were barely visible.

My neglected convertible purred to life when I started then engine, almost as if it were happy I was driving it again.

The weather was crappy, though, with dark clouds hanging in the sky just waiting to rain. It was chilly too and I had to wear my sweater all day but apparently I was the only one who thought so.

Zach said "aren't you hot in that?" he plucked at his shirt "it's so humid."

I shook my head but kept quiet.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked concerned.

I thought about that. Was I feeling okay? I wasn't coughing or sneezing. My body wasn't hurting. No headache, no dizziness, no weakness or fatigue. I was just cold.

"Yea.. Just cold." I murmured after a minute a little distracted.

"Are you sure?" Zach persisted "you're looking a little pale."

"I'm fine" I snapped and immediately felt apologized, Zach was just being sweet as always "sorry, I've been looked after enough these past few days and I don't really like it. I didn't mean to snap."

Zach put an arm around my waist and squeezed me "no worries." He kissed my head.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose, I glanced over my shoulder. I caught Jake staring before he quickly looked away. I tried to ignore the ball of fear that stayed in my stomach for the rest of the day.

"I'm home!" I called "Dad? Shane?"

No one answered, I dropped my bag by the stairs and headed for Dad's study.

I knocked lightly on the door before hesitantly opening it "Dad?"

He wasn't in there he was probably at his office then. That meant he had the car so Shane had to be in the house somewhere.

I grabbed my bag and headed upstairs, that's when I heard the noise. A gun shot then a scream of agony and moaning. I shook my head, dumped my bag in my room and tossed the keys on my bed.

I knocked I Shane's door.

"Yeah?" came his distracted voice.

I opened the door, he was sitting on the floor with a controller in his hands and staring at the t.v. Which showed the barrel of a gun aimed at a zombie who's head was blasted to bits quite literally.

"No wonder there are age restrictions on these kinds of games" I said "a poor kid could have nightmares for weeks seeing that much gore."

"Uh-huh" Shane mumbled, he ran out of amo and was now resorting to an axe - he beheaded another zombie. A few seconds later, though, there were too many of them and he game over-ed.

"Damn!" he looked at me as if noticing I was there for the first time "do you wanna play?"

I grinned and plopped down beside him, he handed me a controller.

For the next couple of hours we killed the living dead. The trick was to either behead them or blow their head to bits any other hit only slows them down. Apperently everything can be used as a weapon too. I picked up a purse, got the strap around its neck and off came its head.

It was a good two hours. Very useful if you want to let out your frustrations... or swear for no reason what's so ever.

Someone knocked on the door.

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