"A door that dosen't shut completely, stairs that move when walked upon and floor boards with holes in them."
I muttered from the back seat of the mini-van, unamused with how our family was moving into an old and broken down house.
"It's ancient architecture Roger, it'll make all your little friends jealous."
My mother joked from the front passenger seat without turning to face me.
"Oh yeah, friends that I'll never see again since they live on the other side of the world!"
"Were only moving 10 miles, you could practically walk back to our old home; it would just take you a while." She whispered, under her breath. "You'll still be going to the same school"
"And what if I don't want to go to the same school anymore?"
"Well Roger, then I'd say you're 15 and you don't know what you want."
That's always how mom ended our conversations, she could never come up with anything original.
The mini-van started to slow down as we made a sharp turn onto a rock drive-way that seemed to go on forever up a spiraling hill until we reached the house. I was familiar with it since we visited it a few times to drop off some boxes. We got out of the car and my father nearly fell over on me because of the steep slant, but he managed to balance himself. We all walked in the house together without another word until the door was shut.
"How don't you fall in love with this place at first sight Roger? It's so quaint and relaxed."
Before my mother could finish her sentence, I swatted a mosquito off of my cheek. My mother turns to my father as she begins to speak once again.
"Peter, it's still early, why don't you show Roger around the outside while I unpack the kitchen. Those sheds look rather interesting."
My father nodded with a sound of approval. He then guided me outside by my shoulder. We walked so slowly towards the miniature barns that crawling would have been faster, which I would never do since the grass went all the way up to just below my knee. Good thing I was wearing my jean pants that covered my whole legs. My father stayed silent the entire walk, he was a man of very few words.
Upon arrival we lifted up the big metal doorway and dust flew out as if when it disappeared, something awesome would be unveiled. But alas, there was only a big red tractor and a closet filled with shovels, rakes and other yard tools that were attached to long sticks. My dad went to dust off the tractor to see what brand it was from, whilst I went to make the best of my time and investigated the tools.
"What's this one dad?"
I pulled out a long stick with two shovel like objects at the end that curved into each other underneath.
"I think that's used for digging."
I acted interested while I put it back, then my eye caught a tool I remembered from my comic books. I pulled it out and held it by my side as I made an epic stance with my other hand on my hip.
"Check it out dad! It's a death scythe!"
"That one is used for cutting grass."
The reality of the object broke my sprite. But I still made a comeback as I put it back.
"Or for harvesting the souls of the undead."
"Sure son. Let's go back home, there's nothing much to do here."
YOU ARE READING
A Cut Above The RestMystery / Thriller
A young, 15 year old boy named Roger gets himself in quite a situation on his first day moving into a new house on the country side. How long will he survive the zombie outbreak, how far will he go to make it out alive and get to the bottom of what'...