Author's Note: I'm normally as soft and cute as a bunny rabbit, but my story is copyright, so if you steal it and pretend it's yours, I will come down on you like the hammer of Thor. Thanks, have a nice day!
The food was running out.
I stood in the pantry staring at the dusty shelves, grim reality setting in. The electricity had been gone for weeks now, and the water I’d saved in the bathtub was getting low. It was only a matter of time, and then I’d have to leave the house and find a new place.
My eyes were glassy as I stared at the last of the canned food, and I hugged myself. Cold comfort in the face of the reality that was setting in. I wished desperately for my parents, and the familiar biting pain of guilt gnawed at my stomach.
The three of us had barricaded the doors and windows when the soul suckers had first started appearing, when the bodies began to pile up. I could still remember the look on Dad’s face when the TV news reports stopped. He stood in the center of the living room, hands on his hips, the blue screen reflecting off his face and casting his features into shadow. He was silent for a long time after that, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I knew. Reality had set in…the apocalypse was in motion. The world was coming to an end.
I tried to shove the guilt down into the pit of my stomach, to force it into a small, cold ball that I could ignore. I was getting better at it, but it was still hard. I told myself over and over that when the soul suckers broke down the door, Dad had screamed at me to run. I’d been in the kitchen, the monsters hadn’t known I was there. There was no way I could have saved my parents. I would have died with them.
But no, not died. That wasn’t right, was it? The soul suckers didn’t kill you. It was far worse than that.
I took down one of the packages of beef jerky, trying not to think about my parents wandering out there somewhere, shuffling through the ruins of the city like zombies. Soulless.
The plastic package crinkled loudly in my grip as I squeezed it, grinding my teeth. Tears were burning my eyes now. Every day I had to fight the urge to go outside and try to find them. Every day I reminded myself that they had stared at me blankly when I’d run to them. They didn’t know who I was anymore. They didn’t know who they were anymore.
Three weeks. That’s how long it had been. I’d counted down the days since then. I couldn’t help it, each day had been an eternity since I’d watched my parents wander out the door, glassy eyes and stumbling. Wandering aimlessly away, leaving me behind. Somehow it was worse than them dying. Like they’d just given up. Abandoned me.
The guilt surged and my breath hitched, making me choke. Tears slipped, making hot track down both cheeks and onto my throat. How could I think that about my parents? I was the one who’d skulked in the attic and watched it happen, too scared to come out and fight.
I ripped into the package and stared at the beef jerky. It was unappetizing, but my stomach was growling insistently. The candle on the shelf beside me flickered as I moved, and long shadows jumped across the walls of the cramped storage room.
I picked up the candle holder and tucked the package of jerky under my arm. The pantry door creaked as I pushed it open.
Another noise near the front of the house made me pause, heart crowding up into my throat. The candle’s light jumped wildly as my hand shook. I tried to stay still and listen for the noise again. Sometimes the soulless bumped into things. Or the stray dogs that wandered in packs would try to tear into someone’s trash bins. That had to be it.
Soul suckers wouldn’t break into the same house twice, would they?
That was the thing, I didn’t know much about them. Oh, I knew what they looked like alright. I felt sick just thinking about it. But I really had no idea how they hunted…if they returned to the same hunting grounds again. If they even had any conscious thoughts…
A sharp cracking sound came from the front hall, and the package of beef jerky dropped from my numb fingers. It hit the floor and I winced.
There’s always that moment of white hot panic that hits you, jolting your body and freezing your muscles. An evolutionary trait that helps no one. It was like that when the soul suckers burst the door down the first time, and here I was again. Frozen.
My heart was jack hammering in my throat, filling my ears with the sound of my own pulse. I took a shaky breath, trying to find the courage to step out of the pantry. Maybe it was only the wild dogs going through the trash, maybe it was the souless bumping against the walls of the house. But I should go up to the attic, just in case.
Another sharp crack made me jump. The sound of the front door splintering sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. I bolted out of the pantry, and in my rush the candle went out. My pulse was drumming in my ears even harder now and I stumbled forward in the dark.
Precious seconds were wasted as I blundering, panic making me slam my hip into the plant stand in the living room, sending sharp pain straight into the bone.
I gasped, groping blindly around me, running my hands over the stand and the couch next to it. I was in the middle of the living room. The stairs to the attic were only a few feet to my left.
Another splintering crack from the door wrenched a scream from my throat, and I staggered forward, hands grasping for the railing to the stairs. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God, please help me.” I was mumbling now, sobbing. Because I knew there was no way this was a wild dog.
Something was breaking my door down.
My searching fingers wrapped around the railing, and I gasped in relief. I stumbled on the way up to the attic, coming down on my knees hard, banging my knee caps on the edge of the stairs.
The crashing behind me grew louder, filling my ears. My chest was so tight I could hardly breath. I took the stairs two at time in the dark, stubbing the toes of my sneakers, banging my elbows. The doorknob felt cool under my hand.
The crashing grew louder, and then there was sudden silence. Scuffling, snorting, the sound of nails scraping across the wooden floorboards.
I pushed the attic door open and slipped inside, trembling from head to toe. Even in the dark silence of the attic I could hear them as they moved beneath me. Shuffle, scrape, shuffle scrape.
The sound of them dragging their mangled bodies, the shriek of their sharp claws scraping over the floor. Pictures were flashing in front of my eyes now. I saw my parents in the living room, backing away from the creatures in terror. I saw mom trip on the cord of the nearby lamp and go down, sprawling on her back with a cry of pain and terror.
I shoved the memories aside, scrambling away from the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Could they hear me? There had been reports on the news before the TV had gone blank, but they hadn’t told us much about them. There were pictures of them, but now in my panic I couldn’t remember. Did they have ears?
Another bolt of fear lanced through my chest as the thumping downstairs resumed. My eyes had started adjusting to the dark, and I glanced around the attic. Hoping for something….anything, that I could use as a weapon.
There was so much junk in the attic from the previous owners. My parents had never bothered to clean it out when we’d moved here. There was an old lawn mower in the corner, and trunks and boxes piled against every wall. Everything was layered with dust and cobwebs.
There. Leaning against the wall was a long black pole with a curved blade on the end, something I’d never noticed before. Some kind of weed whacker probably. Any other time I would have thought it was creepy, but right now I was grateful it was there.
There was thumping from the stairs beyond the door, and I froze, hand outstretched towards the scythe. They had found the attic stairs. It didn’t matter about being quiet now, so I shoved boxes out of my way and snatched the blade up, fingers curling around the handle.
A shock hit me. Like I’d been doused in cold water, and then something bloomed in my chest, some kind of burning brand deep inside sputtering to life. I’d ever felt anything like it. The blade at the end of the pole glittered in the dull moonlight coming in from the window. Blue flared along the edge of the scythe, swirling patterns of light that pulsed and throbbed in time to the beat of my heart. A steady Tock, Tock, Tock thundered in my ears. It filled my entire body until I vibrated with it.
I nearly dropped the scythe, but then there was a shuddering blow to the door of the attic, the sound of the clock died away and I gripped the handle of the blade tightly.
They were coming for me.