Running from Fear

Henry was running, running as fast as he could. He ran past the empty streets of what used to be his home and the alleys where he used to play.  He ran past his school and all the places he used to know. He ran faster and thought his heart mise well beat right out of his chest. He could feel the adrenaline in his blood, but he didn’t care; he was just focused on running. Running and running and running. He didn’t need to be the fastest, just faster than those behind him. The zombies were blood-thirsty things and he didn’t want to die today. He knew he couldn’t run any faster without the zombies getting him so he booked it down an open alley. 

He walked quietly as he heard the screams of those who were behind him. Guilt slowly crept up behind him. Should he have fought them instead of running? Could he have helped those people? He pushed his thoughts aside and focused on his footsteps. He needed to be as quick as a cheetah and as quiet as a mouse. If he wanted to live another day he needed to get out of sight, and fast. He kept moving until he came to the backdoor of an unfamiliar restaurant. He opened the door and stepped inside. 

As soon as he stepped inside he armed himself. He grabbed a knife and locked all the doors. He heard moaning of what sounded like monsters. He looked out the small glass peakhole and watched as the zombies ran down the alley. They were ugly with their yellow flesh and decaying bodies. And they smelled, they smelled like death. He had been to many zombie survival camps, but never was he so close to one. He tightened his grip on the kitchen knife when he heard a sound from within the restaurant.

He froze, the last thing he needed was to be trapped alone with a zombie. He heard it again this time with a slight moan. He looked around the kitchen analyzing the possibilities. He heard it again and again getting louder as if it got closer. He turned around and there it was, a zombie in the flesh. It locked its eyes on him and became very quiet. Time seemed to freeze as the zombie stared at Henry. The zombie cocked its head and lunged toward Henry. Henry ran backwards into a corner, now he was trapped. He felt like screaming or calling for help, but he couldn’t. He was paralized with fear. He was shaking, adrenaline still pumping, as he nearly dropped his knife. The zombie lunged again, this time Henry closed his eyes and held the knife out. 

When he opened, to his surprise, he was still alive with the zombie dead on the floor. Henry had killed his first zombie and it wouldn’t be the last. He had found new courage in himself and felt guilty for those who he left behind. Henry unlocked the door and walked into the dark alley. He was going to help people, no matter the cost. He was not going to let another person die because of his cowardice. He ran down the street and was face to face again with another zombie. Henry continued to undergo similar scenarios as the day drained out. In all he demolished 32 zombies. He knew more than 32 invaded and many moved onto the next town, but at least they were out of his. For the rest of what light remained he went in search of survivors. He didn’t want to be alone. 

As he walked down the gravel road he stopped and saw his reflection in a dirty puddle. He looked terrible, all covered in dirt and grit. He could still hear his heart beating in his chest and only when the adrenaline ran out did he realize how exhausted he was. He collapsed along the side of the street and lay there, tired and hungry. He thought about going back to the puddle for a drink many times only reminding himself it was zombie infected. Drink that and he’d probably die from poisoning. He lay there breathing slowly recalling all the zombies he killed and the people he had left behind. Eventually he started to see black spots and lost consciousness.

Meanwhile Betty and Mrs. Harrison was out on the streets looking for survivors. Betty was only a young teenager and this was her very first zombie attack. She and Mrs. Harrison hid in the basement while her Pa went out and fought. Her Pa didn’t come back. It was now her job to set up a hospital and refuge with Mrs. Harrison  for all those who survived. They had found a few women and elderly in the Thompson house and brought them to the refuge where they had supplies for wounds and food. Zombies and bodies littered the streets. It smelled like death and she looked down as she walked. She walked by as men moved their bodies off to the side. They would bury the deceased townspeople and they would burn the zombies. The zombies destroyed much of the town, many houses’ windows were shattered and walls knocked right down. Those who survived were fortunate. Mrs. Harrison said they had one more street to check and that was all. 

When they approached the street they saw a body up ahead. At their stance they could not tell whether it was a zombie or a human. As the body came in view it was clear it was human, a very dirty one. Betty kneeled down and saw it was a young boy no older than her, she checked the pulse. He had a heart beat and a fever, probably heat stroke. Mrs. Harrison picked up the young boy and carried him back to the refuge. Betty was almost surprised he was light enough for Mrs. Harrison to lift, she didn’t have a large stature. When they entered the refuge they found a bed and carefully lowered him onto it. Some of the unscathed ladies came over and cleaned his dirty face and feet. The retired doctor came over and said to break his fever and he should be fine. 

Henry knew he was safe, he knew he was in a bed but he was not awake. He opened his eyes and closed them again. He would see things that didn’t make sense and then they would disappear. He saw his parents die in these dreamlike days, and he would cry for them to come back. His memories were all mixed up and it was like living a dream. He felt awake, but knew he was not. He saw zombies and he saw himself in dark pits. He felt cold and hot at the same time. Things would spin and animals would float. And one day everything stopped. He heard voices and someone telling him he was alright. He opened his eyes and he saw the face of a young girl. She was the prettiest girl he had seen and she was dabbing something on his face. 

“My name is Betty.” she said softly. He had never heard a voice so perfect and entrancing.

“My name is Henry.” he croaked. He could barely talk. She shushed him and put a finger on his lip.

“You mustn't talk. You need to save up your energy, you’ve been hallucinating quite a bit from the fever.” she said. It all made sense now. The dreamlike state he had been in was a hallucination. He knew the zombie would come back, but he wasn’t scared anymore. Then he had an idea. A wonderfully helpful idea. He knew how to defeat the zombies and he was going to make sure that they never came back.