The fog clung to the October air like a desperate lover. The horizon sucked the sun like quicksand, and the sky bled the sickly color of a hemorrhage. Frank saw movement by the bushes. He squeezed the trigger, and the shotgun’s recoil hammered against his shoulder. The blast shook the evening, startling a nest of starlings from the trees. From the rear of the cabin, Cyril’s Glock let out three shots in rapid succession.

“Shit!” Cyril cursed, entering the living room. “I can’t see anything out there.”

“They’re stalking us, waiting for dark. Save your ammo, but keep your eyes open.”

Julie whimpered from behind the sofa. Frank offered her a smile. “Everything’s gonna be okay, kid.”

Two months had gone by since he and Cyril had found the kid walking barefoot along the road. Her clothes were torn and soiled, and she hadn’t eaten for days. Cyril wanted to leave her. Drive on, he said. But Frank couldn’t do that. Leaving this helpless child to those things was something he couldn’t live with. After making sure she wasn’t infected, they took her.

Julie ran to Frank and hugged him. Frank held her close, feeling her body tremble against his. She was still in shock, and that worried him. He knew basic first-aid, but he wasn’t a doctor. He worked in an office. At least, that’s what he used to do before things went to shit.

“Frank?”

Cyril looked like hell. They all did. That’s exactly where they were.

“Yeah?”

“How are we in the ammo department?”

Frank stared at the shotgun. “I’ve got a handful of shells left.”

“That’s what I thought. I’m down to my last clip.”

The silence was deafening.

The infestation spread faster than anyone could have imagined. A few isolated cases reported on the news. Next thing he knew, the paper boy was trying to rip out his throat. Cyril lived next door. He was a carpenter and lived alone across the street. Thank God he was coming out of his house and saw the whole thing. He ran to Frank’s aid, tried to wrench the boy away. When that didn’t work, he kicked the boy on the head, his steel-toe working boot connecting with the paper boy’s skull, making a crunching sound.

They called the police immediately. That’s when they found out that similar cases were happening all over the country. The police couldn’t afford to send anyone. Husbands were being attacked by their wives. Children were murdering their parents. Dead bodies were turning up everywhere. Witnesses reported the attackers performing acts of cannibalism. And even more horrifying, witnesses saw the dead bodies come back to life.

“What do we do?” Cyril asked. They were in the living room. Julie was snoring silently on the sofa. The cabin was quiet, but they knew what was outside. The air was tainted with the stench of rotting flesh.

“If it comes down to it, we can use the knives in the kitchen.”

“A lot of good they’ll do. Why don’t we take the truck, and get the hell out of here?”

“We’ve been through this before. We’re low on gas. You want to run out in the middle of nowhere with those things?”

They agreed on driving to the mountains. Cyril said his father owned an old cabin. He knew where the key was hidden. The pantry was well stocked. They could hole up there and ride this thing out. There was also a shotgun. Cyril had a Glock back in the house. They could take that too.

It seemed like a good plan. Food, shelter, and away from civilization. Less people meant less zombies.

They agreed it was a good plan.

Frank wasn’t sure how long he’d dosed off. When he opened his eyes, he saw Cyril by the front window, staring out at the night. In the moonlight, he looked like a wraith.

Frank stood up, rubbing his neck. He walked up to Cyril. “What’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“You should get some rest.”

“Can’t sleep.” He continued to stare out the window. Frank could tell that his mind was somewhere else. “Do you think this is going to end?”

Frank thought about his answer. “I don’t know. But I have to believe it will. Because if I don’t, then we’re royally screwed.”

Cyril turned to him. His friend’s expression was grim. “I need a favor.”

Frank waited for him to continue.

“I want you to promise you’ll kill me if those things get me. I’d rather die than become a zombie.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. We’ll get through this. All of us.” Sometimes, a lie, no matter how obvious, was necessary.

Cyril smiled. “You’re a good friend, Frank. I mean it. But you’re a lousy bullshitter.”

A window shattered upstairs, and something crashed.

“They’re inside!” Cyril yelled. He ran for the stairs, bounding the steps two at a time. From upstairs, Cyril’s gun blasted again and again. Julie woke up and screamed.

“Julie, come here!” Frank called. The child didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted to him and clung to his waist. They backed into the kitchen.

He saw them come down the stairs like a blood-thirsty mob.

Frank aimed the shotgun and fired again and again, drowning Julie’s screams. His ears rang, but the zombies kept coming. They were storming in through the door now.

“Cyril!” Frank yelled.

The shotgun clicked empty. He threw it at the zombies and grabbed a knife from the counter. Then he saw Cyril in the back of the mob. His windpipe was torn open, and a flap of flesh hung from his face. His shirt was soaked in blood. He shoved against the crowd, eager to reach Frank and Julie. There was no recognition in his eyes.

Tears streamed down Julie’s face. “I don’t want to die!”

Frank clutched the knife in his hand. He held Julie in his arms and shielded her eyes. With a cry of anguish raised the knife blade high above his head.

Cyril had been right. There were worse things than death.

——

Aurelio Rico Lopez III is a self-diagnosed scribble junkie from Iloilo City , Philippines .  His tales have appeared in various anthologies such as RAW MEAT (Sideshow Press), BOOK OF SHADOWS VOL. I (Brimstone Press), TRIP THE LIGHT HORRIFIC (RAGE machine Press), THE BLACKEST DEATH I, II, & III (Black Death Books), COLD FLESH (Hellbound Books), SHADOW BOX (Brimstone Press), SPORTY SPEC: GAMES OF THE FANTASTIC (Raven Electrick Ink), and STAR-SPANGLED ZOMBIE (Maniac Press). You can reach him at thirdylopez2001@yahoo.com