'Z' - A Short Story

As the rain pattered down on my bruised shoulders and my muddy hair, I thought about how life used to be. It's interesting that we fantasized about the apocalypse beforehand. We imagined our own deaths. What kind of sick society would make movies or video games about the end of the world? Humanity is a very strange thing, I guess. At least there's not much of it left.

I could hear them talking outside. Even their language was disgusting; it was full of guttural slurs. I collapsed to the ground and threw my stained hand over my mouth, not daring to even breathe. The copper-like taste of blood lingered in the back of my throat. A band-aid is pretty hard to come across these days. I signalled for Ellie to stay down, her bright brown eyes shone out through the filthy table she was hidden under. This used to be our home.

We'd moved here when Ellie and I were both very young. I spent most of my free time reading adventurous novels, but Ellie never enjoyed that. She used to beg me to play dollhouse with her.
"Please, big brother?" she'd ask me, regardless of the fact that I already refused her twice before. And when I'd repeat myself, she would shout "You're mean!" and run off for the support of our mother. As much as I despised her then, I really miss those moments now. I miss Ellie.

Ellie was quivering in fear. If I didn't do something, they would hear her and take her away. I glanced across the tattered hallway and saw into Ellie's room. In between the rubble of a collapsed shelf, I noticed a plastic arm. It belonged to the once-red doll that always used to comfort her when she was afraid. I had to get it for her. I shot up and sprinted quickly through the broken door. The voices outside stopped, but it was too late to hide now. I reached into the pile of debris until I grasped the doll's frayed velvet dress, and then I ripped my arm out of the pile and turned to the door. As I made my way back, I saw two dark figures at the opposite end of the hallway. I was petrified as the figures quickly stepped closer. I glanced back to the table. Ellie's eyes looked up at me; I could see the complete fear and confusion in her smudged face. The torn doll fell from my hand as the figures dragged me away... away from the dusty doorway, away from my beloved house, and away from my forever-scarred sister.

I had already given up hope. They'd already caught me, and I'd seen the wounds left on the bodies of the ones who try to fight back. The horrid image stuck in my mind. All I could see now was the inside of the damp rag they used to cover my eyes. I don't know why they bothered. I still knew where I was; where they had taken me. The freezing rain on my back, the muddy dirt under my bare feet, that unforgiving smell... I'd heard the stories. It was one of their 'burial sites'. They use the term loosely, nobody's really buried.

It didn't happen like they said it would. There were no mad scientists or spreading diseases. The monsters weren't slow or brainless, and there were no safe houses or war veterans with shotguns. It just happened. Quick and dirty. No-one suspected a thing. I used to be considered smart; "above average". I don't feel smart now, though. I'm stuck in a bad situation with no control, and every second I waste thinking is a second closer to my inevitable death.

They tugged the torn rag off my face. I had to blink a few times before I could actually see. Again I was disappointed. I had imagined a dark room with a table and a hanging lamp on a chain. Men in suits. People always said that I had a creative mind. But I guess it wasn't enough. There was no interrogation room, just an abandoned, dirt-ridden footy field with piles of decaying corpses.

A foul mixture of blood and death and mud haunted my nose. Those kinds of smells stay with you forever. There were three figures in front of me, each wearing that revolting costume and the insignia they used to identify themselves. They're not artists; the symbol looked like a crooked 'Z'. That's why we called them Zombies, I guess. Somebody thought it was funny.

I tried to get a closer look at their wretched faces, but my eyes were sore from the blindfold. As I moved to rub them, I remembered that my hands were tied around what looked like a bent and rusted telephone pole. The Zombies stepped closer, thinking I was trying to get loose. I bent over in pain as the middle Zombie threw his fist into my gut. I knew why I was here. I knew why I wasn't already in a pile of corpses. These Zombies weren't brainless. They knew that there were still survivors in hiding and needed to draw them out. So they used me. The hunters needed some of us alive.

One of the Zombies took a bent microphone from a nearby sack and held it up to my face. Another Z grabbed a large, rusty knife and stepped behind me. I felt the cold, rough blade resting on my finger as the third Zombie screamed at me and held up a piece of crinkled, brown paper. There was almost-illegible writing on the paper, at first I wondered if it was even English. I strained my eyes and read that the microphone was connected to a system of emergency speakers throughout the broken town. I was told to read the scrawled message for the all to hear, otherwise I would be tortured. I held in my tears, cleared my throat and read aloud.

"Message to all survivors:
We have set up a defence at the football field!
Gather here within the hour and we will fight back for our freedom!"

The Z's untied me and pulled me closer to the entrance, knowing that I wouldn't fight. They wanted me to watch them capture the ones I had sentenced to death. I'd guess that forty-five minutes passed, but it seemed like much longer. The Zombies grew tireless, threatening me with their knives. The blade came to my throat and I took a deep breath. Suddenly, knife dropped. The three captors turned and saw the first of the remaining survivors. A young girl, covered in tattered clothes, stepped out from the bushes. I peered into the eyes of my victim, and they looked back at me. Large, bright, brown eyes. It was Ellie.

She froze in disbelief. I gazed at her wrinkled forehead and her torn skirt. As I stared, I spied something in her small hands. The doll wore a bright, ruby red dress. I realised something. Although Ellie's body was broken, her eyes were not empty. She brought the doll to her chest and squeezed tightly. She still had hope.

In an instant, I shook free of my oppressors, yanked the dirt-smudged microphone to my mouth and I shrieked.
"Run away from here! Run free and live! Never give up hope!"
The mechanical echoes of the speakers buzzed through my body. The abominations turned to me. Three sets of wretched hands held me still. I watched as Ellie sprinted away. They couldn't catch her now. She was free. The cold, rusted blade tore a deep slit in my throat.

As my warm blood ran quickly down my bruised shoulders and spattered into my muddy hair, I thought about how life used to be.