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We had been hiding out in the basement of our house. We were only about two weeks into the apocalypse then. My father, Willow, and my very pregnant mother were huddled in a dark corner of the basement, wrapped in blankets to keep themselves warm. The basement was unsettlingly chilly.
I had been sent up to the kitchen to grab us some food and water, along with a few things we might need if my mother were to give birth. She was due any day now. I was supposed to be getting a little brother. Sure, I was fourteen at the time, but nevertheless I was ecstatic to have a baby in the house. I had been pretty young when Willow was born, so I couldn't remember it much.
I cautiously tiptoed through the kitchen, grabbing us some nonperishable food, bottles of water, towels, and the first aid kit that was tucked away in a cabinet. I had to be careful to stay quiet, we never knew what creatures could be waiting just outside of our home, bloodthirsty and hungry for souls.
Only a few days prior my grandparents on both sides had passed, one became a victim and the rest just simply succumbed to the stress and died naturally. Unfortunately there would be no time for their funerals. There wasn't even enough time to mourn for them. We had to focus on the ongoing problem. The apocalypse.
I had seen some of my classmates become victims. It was the first day of the disaster when it happened. In all honesty it scared me. But that's a story for another time...
I had been told to get some pain relief medicine from the cupboard as well. My mother was going to have to give birth here at home, since all of the hospitals were shut down. It seemed odd to me, you would think in times like these, that would be a place you need most. But I suppose when everything we used to know comes crumbling down everyone only cares about their own health and well-being.
I silently dug through the cupboards and drawers for the medicine, but I couldn't find it. I sneak upstairs. It was dark, I couldn't barely see a thing, but I didn't dare turn a light on or use a flashlight. That's practically asking to be killed.
I warily creeped down the dim hall, headed towards the bathroom. The eerie moonlight seeped through the cracks in our bedroom doors, giving the hall a bit of illumination.
I saw the bathroom door slightly cracked open. I wondered how it got like that. I'm almost certain we had shut all of the doors.
Just then I stepped on a wrong floorboard. The old board creaked groaning under my weight. I bit the inside of my cheek, so hard that I could taste blood and raw flesh.
I quickly but noiselessly stepped forward, off of the floorboard, hoping that no unfriendly ears heard the squeak.
We had found out the hard way that these creatures had very good hearing. Better than any normal animal or person has.
I stayed silent, listening for anything. After a while, I continued forward. I almost reached the bathroom when I heard a loud growl coming from outside of the house.
I didn't waste any time. I hastily rushed into the bathroom and searched the cabinet for pain medicine. Just as I heard another wolf-like sound, I found what I was looking for. As I was headed out, I spotted a bottle of liquor on the bathroom counter. I remembered that my father had been grumbling about not having any alcohol in the basement. He would probably want that. So I grabbed the liquor and rushed out the bathroom door and down the hall. I avoided the creaky floorboard.
I practically ran to the basement door, glancing out a nearby window only once. Did I really just see what I thought I saw? When I looked out the window again, I saw it. I saw the creature that had been haunting me in my sleep for weeks. It was prowling around outside our house, plotting its next attack. Too frightened to think straight, I stumbled down the stairs to the basement. I had closed the door behind myself, but in my hurry I had forgotten to lock the door.
I dumped everything I had collected from upstairs onto the cold concrete floor, taking care not to break my father's bottle of liquor. My father got up from the corner the three of them had been sitting in and walked over to the pile of supplies. He took the liquor in his hand and popped the lid off, taking a quick swig, he murmured to me, "Attaboy." Then he leaned against the nearby wall, slowly but surely consuming the rest of the drink.
I rolled my eyes at him, not because of what he was consuming, but what he said. I hated it when he said that to me. But now was not the time to argue, I knew that.
I bit my lip, glancing over at the door. I still hadn't known it was unlocked. In all of my panic I had been too distracted on keeping myself alive.
I went over to my mother and sister, quietly sitting down underneath the blankets beside them. This was how most of our days went. Sitting around in complete utter silence all day and night, only one or two of us slept when we felt the need to. The rest who weren't sleeping kept watch, just in case something were to happen. In such circumstances you can never be too careful.
I touched my cheek, the makeshift stitches my mother had bound up my wound with days ago were coming out. The cut on my cheek was still tender, it hadn't fully healed yet.
I exhaled deeply and looked down at my hands... it's strange... how everything could change so quickly. If things ever were to go back to the way they used to be, I had sworn that I would never take it for granted again.
I felt my sister lean her head on my shoulder. I glanced down at her. She looked tired, her eyelids began to droop. I could feel the tension in her body slowly relax. I felt so bad for Willow. She hardly ever got to know what living a real life was like. Yeah, I was only fourteen, but at least I got to live a little before all of this mess happened. Which led me to wonder once again, Will life ever be the same again? Will I ever see my friends again before we turn into victims? Is this the end of everything?
Deep into my thoughts, I hadn't noticed it when my mother stood. She paced around the basement, twirling a strand of her beautiful hair between two fingers.
I watched her, pondering what was going through her mind.
Just as I was about to whisper something to my mother, my gaze shot towards the door. It had opened ever so slightly, the moonlight from the windows creeped in from upstairs.
Maybe it was just the wind.
I saw my mother look over at the door as well, she stayed calm, though I could see the fear in her eyes. She looked at me, whispering, "Anthony, didn't you lock the door like we told you?"
I shuddered. I couldn't remember if I had locked the door or not. I didn't know what to say.
"Yes... I think so..." I muttered.
My mother turned to my father, but he was already drunk, half asleep, half awake, sitting there lazily against the wall. My mother sighed quietly and cautiously walked over to the door. I was assuming she was going to shut it.
As soon as my mother reached the door, it fully opened on its own, the hinges groaned as it slowly swung open. At the sound, Willow awoke just in time to see the horrifying creature as it seemed to materialize right there in the doorway.
My mother screamed, terrified, she stumbled backwards. I jumped to my feet, my sister followed suit. I sprinted forward to defend my mother, but it was too late.
The creature let out a strange sound, almost like one a wolf would make when it was claiming its victory. My mother fell back just as the creature pounced forward at her. It clawed at her wildly and bit her neck, not showing any mercy. My mother let out a heart wrenching cry as I witnessed the creature inject its black venom into her throat. She was covered in blood, bleeding out uncontrollably. She cried out and thrashed around, even though she knew as well as I did that she, and the baby were finished. I felt helpless. Willow screamed, "No!" She was terrified at the sight of seeing our mother become a victim. There was absolutely nothing I could do. My father wasn't any help either, too drunk to think straight.
That was the last time I had seen my mother, sane at least.
•••
Afterwards, once I had eventually gotten my father, sister and I to safety, my father sobered up. He knew what happened and he beat me badly for it. He was angry... very, very angry. He claimed it was my doing, since I had realized I hadn't locked the door.
He always blamed me for what I had done to our mother that night, and to this day I have never forgiven myself for it.
~ Continue in chapter eight ~