The candles burned bright, flames flickering and casting an orange glow on our faces. Mom and dad were cuddled together while Greg kept watch through the window. I was swaddled in a blanket, the night air cold and unrelenting.
There was an announcement broadcasted over the radio that planes would be flying from Ireland to England starting tomorrow, and we were in a building outside of the airport, waiting for morning to come. There was a crowd around the gates to the airport, but my parents just ushered us into a building for the night.
It was safer here and considerably warmer than the outside. I was still cold though. Cold and scared.
Outside, people shook the gates like wild animals in a cage. I couldn't see them, not from where I was laying down in the corner, but I could hear them loud and clear. The rattling of metal bars, the shouts of desperation and anger, the wailing of little children, and the suppressed groans of the bitten. All that noise, it wouldn't be long until zombies came to inspect.
People screamed when the first dead moan rang through the air, followed by footsteps and cries of the trampled innocents. I could hear the tearing of limbs and gunshots, the bodies dropping, and the indistinct sound of knocking at the door. "Help! Let me in!"
No one made a sound. I wanted to help him, but dad gave me a look that kept me where I was. The knocking turned to pounding before it stopped. It was silent for three seconds. Glass shattered, a sickly green hand reaching through the barred window. Greg took out his machete, walking over and slicing the hand clean off the zombie's wrist.
A strangled yell erupted from behind the barred window, as if the zombie still had its last few shreds of humanity inside. I know it didn't actually have any humanity, it was just a trick - an illusion.
It still didn't stop the heavy feeling in my chest though.
~.~.~.
When morning arrived, our surroundings were bright from the sun filtering through the broken windows. The smell of decay lingered in the air like a dense fog, and it was deathly quiet as if no one had ever been here before. I was the first to wake up, minus Greg who never went to sleep last night; I could tell by his red eyes and pale face. Looking through the window which the zombie from last night smashed, I saw that the gates were open and heavily guarded by men in uniform and armed with weapons I had never seen before.
"Greg," I stage-whispered to him. He jolted, finally alert from his half-asleep state. "The gates are open."
He joined my side, looking out of the window, too. "Go wake up mom and dad. I'll go talk to them," He ordered, clutching the machete tight in his hands before leaving me to wake up our parents.
I shook them awake, their eyes snapping open and mouths open in long drawn out yawns. Despite two and a half weeks into the apocalypse, they were still in the complete sync of a married couple. "Niall," My mother groaned as she sat up and brushing her bangs away from her eyes. "What is it?"
"The gates are open."
~.~.~.
Two of the guards at the gate guided us to a plane that would be taking off in the next twenty minutes. We were given food, water, and instructions to the nearest bathroom. Eating the raisins my brother didn't want, I waited patiently for them to start boarding passengers. There were two other families in here besides us, a few individuals, and one pregnant woman. I felt sorry for her and her baby; I couldn't imagine bringing life to a world of death and destruction. I could never understand the stress she must have as an expecting mother.
"Ma'am," A guard greeted the pregnant woman. "You'll be the first to board the plane. Please follow me."
I watched as she waddled over to the door that led to the tunnel to board the plane. One of the individuals looked at her in disgust, which in turn made me feel disgusted at him. Greg placed a hand on my knee, squeezing gently to tell me that I needed to calm down.
The fragile cry of a toddler caught my attention, my heart sinking when seeing a little girl being carried onto the plane next. It was obvious she was an orphan; her parents were dead, and she was only a baby.
We were the last family to get on the plane, followed by the rest of the single people waiting with us. Fear settled in my tummy as we took off, the hum of the engine whirring caused trickles of sweat near my hairline. Something about being in a plane with other people stirred irrationality within my mind that set me on edge, teetering too close to falling off.
It was a relatively short flight - that much I was thankful of.
The airport we landed in was in the heart of London, near some makeshift base my family and I had no intentions to head to. Luckily, they didn't force us to go with them, so we left as well as the pregnant lady, much to everyone's chagrin. "I'll be fine on my own, I've survived well enough already." She responded to the soldiers that offered to escort her to safety.
It was a pure coincidence that my family was walking the same way she was, so my mother offered to provide protection until we went our separate ways at the outskirts of London. Thankfully, she accepted, so now we had another addition to our little group. "Ma'am," I called to get her attention, slowing down my pace, so I could walk alongside her. "What's your name?"
"Tabitha. Yours, sweetie?"
"Niall," I smiled lightly, my lips closed to hide the braces that I resented. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but how far along are you?"
"I don't mind at all," She laughed softly. When we had reached enough distance to no longer be seen by the soldiers or for us to see them, we took a rest near a few benches in a park. "I'm actually due any week now. You see, me and my husband. . . late husband. . . are having a little girl. I've got family out in the country to take refuge with."
"I can't imagine all the stress you've been put through," I mumbled, peering down at my dirty hands. I rubbed them against my pants before taking out two granola bars to share with Tabitha. "It can't be good for you or the baby."
"It isn't, but I'll tell you a secret, Niall." Tabitha leaned in close and whispered, "There is always good in the bad. I've found my good," I watched as she cradled her stomach, eyes glossy. "Go find yours."
What happened next was as much of a blur as it was for Tabitha, I'm sure. No one saw it coming - the zombie biting into Tabitha's neck. The blood that ran down her neck, the chunks of tendons and skin between the now very dead zombie's teeth could have been mine. Why the zombie went for the expecting mother, I won't ever now. All I do know is that I wished it were me as I threw up from the smell of not one death. . . but two.
This world was no place for the innocent; they were devoured at every corner. It would only be a matter of time before I, too, was devoured just like the mother and child in front of me.