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CHAPTER 3

Noah

I struggle to hold my breath because I’m afraid if I breathe, a person or zombie is going to pop out and maul us to death. It’s a completely rational fear. People became even more selfish, if that were even possible, when the world began to go to shit. People turned on others, but that was not anything new to me.

Being gay, I was always treated differently in school. Most boys didn’t want to hang out with me, fearing that rumors would fly that they somehow turned gay from me. It was ridiculous and not true. I couldn’t help that girls didn’t do it for me; I tried multiple times. But I couldn’t force myself to be someone I’m not, even with the attempts from my terrible parents.

But the lack of growling and movement told me this couldn’t exactly be a zombie. They didn’t have control of themselves.

“Come out with your hands up,” Jamie’s voice shook as he spoke. If I didn’t know better I would’ve chuckled. But Jamie was strong; right now, he was the only thing standing between whatever was hiding in the small closet and me.

The growling continues, and fear licks up my spine. Why aren’t they attacking? My heart pounds against my chest; my breathing becomes ragged.

“I’ll ask one more t–time,” Jamie's voice cracks. He nervously glances at me, begging me with his eyes to not comment about his voice crack. I’m so going to say something. But he doesn’t need to know that, not when we might get mauled to death by whatever is hiding.

“Alright, come out,” I drop my hands, sliding the rocks back into my pocket.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Jamie holds his mallet above his head, most likely going to knock himself out instead of whatever is hiding. I chuckle under my breath at the idea, earning another weird look from Jamie.

“What? He’s not going to come out here if we’re threatening to hurt him.” I don’t comment that the chances of us hurting whoever it is are less than one percent. I have rocks in my pockets, not that it would do any damage to the zombies. It would probably just piss them off. And Jamie, while he’s a big dude who played football, he’s got a brain the size of a peanut.

“That doesn’t mean it should think we’re not going to kill it,” Jamie hisses back.

I roll my eyes, annoyed with the whole situation. I didn’t want to come out here, but since I’m the only one who knows what most medical equipment is used for, I’m the one who has to go.

The growling quiets down, some rustling before a giant walks around the corner and out of the shadows. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely was not that. His jet-black hair hangs just past his eyebrow; his left eye holds a nasty, white, raised scar. It’s ragged and goes from just under his eye to across his face. His bright blue eyes mix with a milky color. But that’s not what holds my attention.

It’s the muzzle.

I lick my dry lips, grimacing when my tongue swipes the sweat off. I shuffle on my feet, not sure what to say now. I have this habit of talking about a big game, but when it comes time to show my face, I like to tuck my tail and run. There have been multiple times that Rue, one of my old best friends, has had to come to my rescue. But she’s not here, and neither is Mallory. They’re either dead or one of the walking dead. Especially Mallory.

I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought of my old friends. No use in thinking about them now, not when it’s not going to help me here.

“Why are you wearing a muzzle?” Jamie finally asks. I peek over at him; the mallet now hangs by his side, his fist flexing around the handle. Guess I’m not the only one confused and a little scared of whoever this person is.

Muzzle guy shakes his head, giving me a peek at the baseball bat in his backpack. So maybe he’s not a zombie, but being smart just in case he’s bitten? I could work with that.

Silence fills the room, making it appear much smaller than it is. I’m unable to look away from the man, taking him in. He wears all black, including a black trench coat.

“It’s hot as balls outside; why are you wearing a coat?” I ask.

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing me before he reaches behind him. Everything happens too fast from there. Muzzle guy grabs his baseball bat, reaches forward, and yanks on my wrist. Falling forward, he shifts until I’m behind him.

“Wh—” The words die in my throat as three zombies come running into the room. Their skin falling from their arms makes me gag. Their milky eyes remind me of muzzle dudes, but I rid myself of that thought. Rumors flew around the world that half-zombies were around us, too. I doubted it just for the simple fact that it's not possible. There is no medical reason for the virus to pick and choose whom it wants to turn. A virus is a sickness, and the undead returning didn’t make sense.

An ear-piercing scream pulls me back just as Jamie falls to the ground, a zombie landing on top of him. I climb to my feet, my eyes drawn to the muzzle guy as he fights off two zombies. I reach in my pocket and pull the rocks out. Before I can think about it, I throw one of them at the back of one of the zombies' heads. It does nothing but bounce off and make the undead thing turn towards me.

“S–shit,” I stutter out. I suppose I didn’t think about throwing a rock at something that wants to kill me. Until now, we’ve scraped by, not having a run-in with any zombies. Unfortunately, that meant I didn’t have a proper weapon. However, I also believe if I tried to beat one with a baseball bat or mallet like Jamie, I would probably throw my arm out and be completely useless anyway.

Jamie screams once more; his voice slowly dies out. My attention is snagged by his body lying on the ground; one zombie holds his forehead while he bites down on his throat.

“Jamie!” I screech. Dread fills my stomach, my heart sinking as the realization that Jamie is dead. He might not be dead at the moment, but the second one of those th?—

Something hard hits my chest, knocking me to the ground. I blink my eyes open, immediately drawn to the muzzle guy standing with his back to me in a fighting stance.

“N–No,” Jamie attempts to call my name. I look over, and tears start to leak from the corner of my eyes as I take a look at what he used to be. He pleads with his eyes, begging me to help, but it’s useless. He’s been bitten. If he doesn’t bleed out now, he’ll eventually turn.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. My body shakes, watching his life drain from his eyes. The realization that this is real, that zombies are very much here and there’s nothing we can do, hits me. Tears stream down my face; I'm unable to concentrate on anything.

“Get up,” someone says. Looking up, the muzzle man holds a gloved hand out for me. “I’m not going to bite; let’s go.”

I’m not sure what he means by he won’t bite, but that doesn’t stop me from sliding my hand into his. Closing my eyes, he helps me to my feet. I stand there shakily, looking at the three dead zombies that I hadn’t noticed were dead, along with Jamie. His dead form lies there, blood pouring from his wounds. He didn’t deserve to die, and he didn’t deserve to be bitten like that.

“We need to get out of here,” the muzzle guy says.

I can’t look up at him when all I can focus on is Jamie. I didn’t like the guy much, but he was a part of the camp. He helped me when I needed something. He smiled at me and waved.

“What’s your name?” He asks.

“Noah,” I mindlessly told him.

How did we go from being safe and wondering who was hiding in the shadows to now Jamie being dead and me standing with some stranger?

“Noah, we need to go,” he grabs my bicep.

“We can’t just leave him.”

“Noah, there’s more coming. We can’t be here, and it’s hard enough fighting one of them, but fighting more is nearly impossible.”

I nod, except I can’t move. I’m frozen and terrified; I can’t think clearly. How can Jamie be dead? He was alive just a second ago, and now he’s gone. How am I going to explain this to his girlfriend?

“Fuck,” the muzzle guy curses under his breath. It’s then that I hear the growling and shuffling of more zombies.