Sitting on a corner of her small room, Jasper felt the quiet reverberating between her ears. The silence was deafening but she figured she had only numbed her senses to what was really going on outside.
Zombie movies usually advised people to hightail it out to the hills (or a prison, if you wanted to be TWD about it), but now that shit hit the fan living dead style—it was hard to follow every rule in those imaginary survival guides they've read when they were younger.
For one, the mass hysteria was real. You'd think people would just shut up and go about it, unlike those crazy idiots in the movies and series, but it was an inevitable and prophetic fate, it seemed. People were people and people were mostly bad people. It was depressing as it was liberating—for some at least.
Before the dead started to make munchies out of her neighbors, Jasper remembered her short-lived dream life fondly. London was beautiful. Europe has just been amazing. It was everything she had dreamed of—until she had to include 28 Days/28 Weeks Later references, that is.
It was unfair. Her sister had been the one obsessed about zombies. NOT HER. And now she was stranded in this one bedroom apartment, the dresser shoved against the door, and she was on the brink of contemplating jumping all the way down—18 floors down. What was stopping her?
Survival, mostly. But what if she didn't die immediately? What if by some unfortunate circumstance, the wind breaks her fall and she ends up with one bad broken arm? What if she breaks a foot, what then? She'll be what she feared the most—zombie chow, ala Filipino. Lucky sons of bitches; getting a taste of her before any real British man could devour her.
Jasper laughed in the quiet. She was going nuts. Mental. Maybe she should jump soon. How could she think about her virginity right now? Wasn't this shit irrelevant during this devastating moment in time?
NO. Sex was a basic instinct. Considering she had given up on scavenging before she even began (she was always the bad finder, the worst in I Spy car games since the dawn of time), maybe the idea of sex and breathing was the only thing keeping her alive.
... And her fucking hyperactive brain who was more intent on thinking about men and sexy and sadness when any regular, normal human being would rather think of a way out of this hellhole she used to call home.
Thankfully, there were no blood splatters in her apartment. She had managed to escape from the debacle which happened on unit 183.
Poor Josh. Just when she had finally gotten the guts to actually flirt with him.
Guts.
Jasper almost retched. Let's just say she got to know him intimately (in a bad way) before even asking him out on a date. What a waste of handsome, she thought. Although to be fair, Josh wasn't really her type. She rarely went for the nerdy dudes. Oh well, too much for that. Too late for that.
Too late for anything.
Now there was only her, the dresser, and death. She didn't even bother thinking about her family. God knows the one way trip to the ground floor through her window was going to be an easy one if she thought about her mother. Or her sister.
Thankfully, she was too hungry to cry.
Then the violent pounding came.
Her world froze.
Jasper felt an indescribable fear consume her. Why was this happening to her now? Weren't things supposed to be better because she was hiding here? She feared the man-eating meat suits, sure, but she feared real people more. What if a group of bandits or raiders were outside the door?
What if they rape her? Kill her for food that didn't exist? That would be pretty dumb on their part—
The rapping stopped.
Jasper held her breath.
Then came an agitated yet authoritative voice, "Please tap twice if you're still in there. I'm moving to the next building if you're not here."
How did...?
She felt like she was on top of a roller coaster, about to crash and fall down.
This was her only chance of leaving this place, and she realised she didn't care if they killed her anymore.
It was better than dying alone.
Then Jasper heard footsteps, and noticed those heavy steps started to walk towards the fire exit, she jumped on her feet and started to tap hardly on the dresser-ONCE. TWICE. "I'm HERE!" she tried to scream, but she knew that would be a bad idea. "Please come back, please!"
She had never been so terrified and relieved at the same time when the footsteps returned to her doorstep. "I'm... I'm here, please. Please don't go. Please." Why cry now? Suddenly she couldn't stop the tears falling down her cheeks.
"The door is jammed," the person on the other side said. "Have you got something blocking the way?"
Glancing at her big dresser, which she had always loved, and nodded. "Yes, I... I... but I'll push it off! Just give me a second!" Her voice sounded foreign to her ears. From countless hours (or has it been days?) of mental conversations with herself, her voice had a little croak in it. Her throat felt parched all of a sudden. "Please, wait for me!"
"No worries," the voice said, "The coast is clear."
Cheesy as the line was, Jasper had never felt so comforted by the voice. Gathering the strength she thought had left her for good, she started pushing. The dresser's contents rattled. The floor screeched. She only wished no one—or nothing, rather, heard its assault on the floor.
"You OK?" asked the voice.
He—whoever this person was, was her lifeline. Literally. She could hear him encouraging her as she pushed, you'd think she was giving birth. And finally, after the last inch had been pushed away from the door's corner, the door swiftly opened and in swooped this tall man.
A red bandana was hiding his face, and on top of his head was a beanie, and his jacket clung to his athletic slim physique. A grey hoodie peaked from his brown bomber jacket, and behind him strapped was a good trusty backpack. He quickly closed the door behind him and for a second, Jasper wanted to faint.
What was going to happen now? Was he going to take advantage of her vulnerability and hunger? She had no idea if this man was fugly—she couldn't even see his eyes, was he wearing goggles? "Ah..."
"Are you alright?" He asked.
Jasper was trembling. There was something about this man...
"Get everything you need," he ordered quietly, looking her straight in the eyes. "We leave in a minute."
"Oh...ok..." She nodded dumbly and started rummaging around her things. "I hate looking for stuff!!!" Where was her damn bra when she needed it?! Did she even need it?!
It took her a moment to realise that the person behind her was actually laughing. Jasper gaped at him, confused as to why he was finding her distress so amusing, and she gasped even louder when he took her by the shoulders and gave her a firm grip.
"What's your name?"
"J-Jasper."
"Jasper. Take a deep breath and take everything you need. Keep it light. Do it quick. Only the essentials." He said this while wiping the tears on her cheeks with his thumb.
It could've been a sweet moment, but all Jasper could think about was the beautiful set of hazel eyes staring right through the goggles. Her Hottie Radar was ringing.
LOUD.
This wasn't just anyone.
"Ready?" He asked gently, and feeling the strength of his touch on her shoulders and arms, Jasper finally nodded.
With the prospect of thinking that this man was HOT, her mind had cleared. Hadn't she always said how sexy dudes inspired her? Whether this man only had beautiful eyes, even if the rest of his face was half monstrous, she decided she wouldn't care. It was enough to make her function.
Jasper quickly turned and got her emergency bag which had always been prepared under the sofa. Ready. She was actually ready. She had just been too terrified to actually go out and make a damn move.
Surely, this was destiny, she thought, watching him in the corner of her eye. Her Savior was busy getting random supplies from her place.
"I'm ready," she uttered a bit shyly, suddenly realizing how tall he was. She wanted to watch him move around her small apartment. He looked so HUGE. It's like he belonged there...
UUUNNGGGGGHHH.
A collective groan of zombies were heard from the distance. Both people stopped—and they looked at each other.
Her Savior nodded. "Let's go?"
Jasper felt her heart thrum in her chest—not only because of Mister Hazel Eyes Hottie, but because she was finally leaving her place. She never thought she'd live beyond these four walls.
"Jasper?" He asked from the door, and extended an open hand towards her. When she didn't respond, he pulled the red bandana down to reveal his face and called her name again. "Are you ready?"
Jasper would have died then and there. She would have lost her arm and she wouldn't have noticed. A zombie could have torn off her arched nose and she wouldn't have cared. "Ah..."
He was beautiful.
He was beyond beautiful it made her shiver... With anticipation.
She wasn't a zombie but she thought he was absolutely delicious. Good lord.
The man smiled at her and Jasper, having been always a lover of beautiful men, took his fingerless gloved hand in hers—finally stepped out to face this new world.
Suddenly, despite the fall of humanity, things didn't seem so horrible anymore.