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Plagued


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(This is their house, for the record)




Irvington, New York.


June 14th, Saturday, 11:49 pm.






"Another one, huh?" Walter chuckled a little as he slung an arm over Colette's shoulders, smiling as he leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. ".. What if we end up with another two like the first time?" He joked. She rolled her eyes and playfully slapped his arm while leaning over to snuggled against him, as well as sort of lounge all over him as well.


"Then that's even better, isn't it? We have enough room in the house, and Carl and Daniel are going to need someone to compete with, aren't they?" She laughed. Walter smiled warmly and simply thought to himself. Another son or daughter. That did sound nice - He knew that nothing would ever be able to pull the two boys apart, though, hopefully if there were any more children, the boys would be quick to accept them into their little army of two and hopefully make it an army of three. It was definitely a nice thought, and he was very convinced. Another child would be quite nice - they could definitely afford it.


".. Maybe, sweetheart. Maybe." He rubbed her arm and then flicked on the TV and went through the channels until he found the News channel. It didn't really seem like there was much going on. Apparently there was a riot of some kind going on in the city not far from them, but they didn't really care too much. They were on a nice private estate and they had privacy and space, all to themselves. Walter simply lied back and shut his eyes, his arm still wrapped around his diamond of a wife. Everything about her was so beautiful - her hair, her face, her eyes, and most of all, her personality. She looked good in terms of her figure, and so on, but Walter never really thought too much about that. He loved her for who she was, not what she was.


He heard a toilet flush upstairs. He sighed. He knew the boys wouldn't be asleep by now - they were probably sitting up in their room playing video-games or just lying in bed talking to each other. They always did that on weekends. Tomorrow, they had to be up early, as Sunday was the primary day where the family spent a bit of time together - it all started off with having pancakes or waffles in the morning. That was sort of their tradition. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep after about twenty minutes, and that was a nice relaxing feeling after a long week of work. Soon, he crashed out, right as Colette had begun to slip out from under his arm - he didn't notice that, which was odd, but oh well. She was probably just getting up to go to the bathroom, or check on the boys, or make a cup of coffee - regardless, good old Walt was sleeping like a baby tonight, and he'd wake up whenever he pleased.


**




He woke up almost two hours later at one o'clock. The TV was off, and most of the lights were as well. It was quite eerie. He couldn't hear Colette anywhere, nor did he know if things were alright. Something felt off. The first thing he thought about were the boys, so he hopped up and made his way up the stairs, and then quietly went to their bedroom door and peeked inside. The two beds were a mere couple of feet away from each other, and both the boys were fast asleep, but they were facing each other. Walter smiled. He enjoyed seeing how affectionate of each other they were - they both looked happy, though, so Walter closed the door over and then made his way over to his own bedroom door and peered inside. Colette wasn't in bed. The bed was untouched.


".. Colette...?" He called out quietly, frowning in worry. He went back down the hallway and then down the stairs once again, and then went to the hallway where they had one of the primary home phones mounted on the wall. He picked it up and placed it to his ear, but there was nothing. It was all quiet. The phone lines were down, apparently. This riot really must have spun out of control. "Damnit." He muttered, slapping the phone back onto its hook. He was starting to get worried now, even more so than before. "Colette!" He called out, this time more sternly and louder as he wandered into the kitchen. A half-empty cup of coffee that was stone cold sat on the kitchen table, but there was nothing more. He looked out into the back yard, and then went out front and inspected the driveway. His car was there, but Colette's wasn't. He couldn't leave the boys in the house alone, but he knew she'd gone into the city - she had family there. How could he be stupid enough to fall asleep? That gave her a window to leave! Damn.


At first he was worried. Now he was panicked.


 

images


(1. Apartment from outside)

(2. Apartment from inside)​



Jack was nearly vibrating with how hard she was shaking. She was sitting in her 5th floor apartment, a baseball bat locked too tightly in her hands as she crouched in a closet. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she listened to the shuffle of feet and the moans of discomfort.


Someone - something, rather - was in her house.


She didn't have anything of value besides her laptop and TV. Her apartment building didn't look rich enough for anyone to want to loot or rob. The riots in the streets below had been in downtown, and she had expected them to be shut down by police quickly and violently. But her fears had grown when the riots spread farther and deeper into the city, and that had been the point when Jack had turned off her TV with trembling hands. She prayed to a God she didn't believe in for the riots to end before they reached her.


She had looked from her window when cries and screams raised outside. There was no fire, as she had seen from some helicopter shots from the news, but instead, just a gigantic hoard of people flooding the streets. They were so frantic they plowed each other over, trampled each other, and Jack had noticed with wide eyes that most had bloody, gaping wounds in their skin, with others having blood around their mouth.


She had thought it was some strange, fanatical zombie lovers raising hell until she witnessed a woman at the front launch herself at a man two times her size and lock her teeth on his throat.


Blood had run like a faucet on the ground as the woman crouched and began to eat him. Jack had thrown up at the sight, then covered and wiped her mouth, stepping away from the window. Her mind had flown to the baseball bat in her front closet, and she had gone and grabbed it, then retreated back into her apartment. She had sat on her couch, hands covering her ears to block out the too many screams, until it had quieted. She thought that maybe they had ran away or gone elsewhere.


Until she heard a scratching at her door. Her heart had leapt into her throat, and that was how she had found herself in her closet with her apartment being occupied by a zombie.


A zombie.



As in, the undead.



Corpse.



Zed.



Walker.



Husk.



Oh, Jack was
fucked.
 
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Sunday, 3:36 am.





He'd tried the phone so many times, but there was nothing. Not even a dead line noise. That was sad. Colette still wasn't back, and he wasn't too sure on what was going on. He could hear gunshots in the distance - What the hell was going on out there? This riot was getting crazy out there, and he wasn't sure on what he was going to do. He just needed to sit in here and make sure the boys were safe and--


Oh fuck. He heard something break down in the little guest house down by the pool. It was only a small place that had all the BBQ stuff in there and a mini kitchen and a little table, and the bedroom and bathroom was upstairs. With a gulp he went upstairs and grabbed a golf club from a closet, and then took his AMT Hardballer from his nightstand. He made his way out into the back yard, and then slowly made his way down the little pathway towards the guest quarters. He heard shuffling, and he could hear plates and broken china being kicked around the floor. Someone had broken in in the riot.


"Hey! Whoever's in there, come out right now!" He yelled. He heard a groan and a growl and he gripped his golf club as tightly as he could and then took a few steps back, only to have someone stumble out towards him. He was about to shout at him, but he saw that the man's throat was torn out and one hand of his was gone. What the fuck? He felt like vomiting, but he couldn't. It was all stuck in his throat. With a gurgle the man lunged at him, but quickly got a golf club to the head. He flopped to the ground and kept groaning, but Walter was so terrified, so he didn't stop hitting him. He kept on hitting him over the head with it, spreading blood and flesh everywhere. When he realized what he'd done, he vomited into the pool. He went pale, and he felt like he was about to pass out.


He'd just killed someone, or something, but whatever it was, wasn't human. He dashed back up to the house and dived into the first shower he could find upstairs, and didn't even bother taking his clothes off. He was covered in blood, and despite the water being hot, he was shivering. He felt so cold and empty.
 
Jack's heart stopped, then pounded like a bullet train when the shuffles trailed into her part of the apartment. Her breath caught in her throat, and she swore that her heart would have shriveled up and died if it weren't racing. The groans got a bit louder, then the footsteps moved father through the hallway. She sighed, then leaned back. Her head made a very audible thunk against a shelf she didn't know was there, and the shuffling, so loud in the deafening silence, stopped.


She couldn't help the small noise she made when the shuffles came back her way. It was quiet for a few, precious moments, until there was a small, curious pawing at the door. She could see the shadow from underneath the door, and terror froze her limbs, but adrenaline made her clutch her baseball bat tighter. She waited, her heart speeding up to impossible rates as the zombie began to aggressively hit the door, until the door fell off the hinges.


The snarling and crash startled her, and she screamed when the door came down on top of her. Bloody arm reached around it desperately for her, but she took both of her feet, put them against the door, and shoved as hard as she could. The zombie went sprawling, making this god awful screaming noise all the while, before it scrambled back towards her on all fours. She had recovered, however, then took her bat, getting into a batter stance, and slammed it into the temple of the zombie. It went airborne, skidding out of the hall and into the kitchen, leaving a blood streak against her floor. The blood was congealed and thick, too dark of a red for human, and Jack to hold back her gag.


It got up again, significantly more awkwardly, it's head tilted to an unnatural angle, and Jack screamed again as it ran in a dead sprint towards her. She took her bat and slammed it into it's face, wincing at the sound of bone crunching. The corpse stumbled, but Jack didn't stop; she went over to the zombie and hit it against the top of it's head, causing it's chin to crash into the stained tile floor of her kitchen. Congealed blood sprayed and oozed when she hit it, but she didn't stop, she hit it again, and again, and again, crying out in terror, until it stopped moving. With wide, fearful eyes, she looked at the bloodied mass of what used to be the thing's head. When it twitched, she shrieked and hit it again, then it finally relaxed and went still.


Jack fell to her knees, shakes overcoming her entire body as a unshakable chill sent ice through her veins. Going down on all fours, the last of her dinner hit the floor as she vomited.
 
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At five o'clock, he knew that he was never going to see his wife again. He couldn't cry. He didn't have the energy to do so. After he'd killed that thing out there, he didn't know what to do. The phones weren't up, so he couldn't call the police or an ambulance, nor could he call Colette's cellphone. He was scared. She still wasn't back.


Yet, he felt angry at her.


She left her children behind. How could she do such a thing? Now Walter was going to have to tell them that their mother was missing. It'd break their hearts, but they still had each other, and they had him. They could hold out until she got back. if she got back, that is.


Why was this happening? He got up and checked on the boys for the dozenth time this morning, and then went downstairs and made himself a cup of coffee with a pair of shaky hands. This was absolute hell. He wanted to just wake up and find out that this was one big nightmare, but he was mostly wide awake and knew that whatever was going on was going to be something that he and the boys were going to have to work with.


This would all be over soon, right? They had food here, water, power, and decent safety. As long as they didn't stand out too much, they'd be fine. Now, they had to wait. Wait for someone to come along and pick them up off of their asses.
 
(Sorry this took so long! I had to do some stuff!)


Of all the things to be certain of, Jack was certain she looked like something out of a horror movie.


Her hands were stained with the blood of the thing lying in her kitchen, and for the fifth time, she tried to wash the blood off, but it was still there, tainting her hands like the stain of crime was branded to her forehead. You killed somebody, Jackie, a voice inhabiting some part of where her mind had snapped taunted her. Jack looked into the mirror, and shuddered at the tangled mess of her hair, the splatter of blood on her cheek, the disheveled state of her clothes, paired with the wild, feral look in her eyes. She scrubbed a bit too forcefully on her cheek until the only red was from the layer of skin she had peeled off her face.


She needed to leave, and she knew it. Jack would have to pack light to move quick. She grabbed one of the smaller bags she owned, grabbed her car keys, the medical kit and medicine from her bathroom, then grabbed a cleaver from the kitchen. Jack hesitated in taking the bloody bat, but logic overruled disgust, and she cleaned it before she gripped it tight in her right hand.


Hoisting the bag over her left shoulder, she cautiously moved to her door, her breath the only sound, and opened the front door with a flourish, looking both ways down the hall. Nothing. She moved towards the stairs, opting against the elevator because of how many times the power had flickered on and off in the time she had been washing the blood from her skin. She did not survive a zombie attack just to end up pancaked in an elevator accident.


The whole trip down the eerie stairwell of her building was uneventful, except the moment where she jumped a foot in the air when she heard a distant car alarm start blaring. Sighing deeply, she continued to move down the stairs until she reached the parking garage. Apparently, she was not the only person who had escaped the riots, as many cars that should have been there were missing. She unlocked her Jeep, looked all around to make sure none would sneak up on her, peered under the car to check for any hiding, then squinted into the tinted windows of the Jeep to check for any stowaway. She popped the trunk and threw her bag in, then jumped quickly into the driver seat, closed the door, locked said door, and started the engine.


Jack had never really had an issue with how loud her Jeep was until this moment. She winced as it revved up, and she shifted into gear as she navigated the labyrinth of the garage to the outside. Hitting the garage door opener clipped to her visor, she pulled up the small slope, and nearly threw up the non-existent contents of her supper. Blood coated everything, and dead bodies of those who hadn't been able to get back up littered the street like discarded toys. She kept her eyes averted to anything other than what was in front of her, driving through the ominous deserted New York. She saw unsettling large groups - hoards? - of zombies stumbling along away from her, going deeper into the city.


She had to think. Where would they be most likely to go? To noisy, highly populated places, like deeper into Manhattan, but where would they not go? She puzzled a moment, not stopping as she drove along the coast of the island, when it hit her. Her friends - Oh god, Courtney and Evelyn were probably dead - would joke around about how people never went to Jersey. Maybe the zombies wouldn't either.


She swallowed her nervousness as she went through Lincoln tunnel. There were car that had been abandoned in the tunnel, and she had to weave through them to get across. There was a pile up blocking one part, and she had to turn around and go down the oncoming traffic lane, which defied the lessons her father had practically beat into her when she was 16, but she kept going until she hit the other side of the tunnel.


The Jersey side wasn't much better. In fact, it was much worse. Zombies were devouring people in the streets, the bodies looking like they had died while the dead ate them. One zombie one chewing on a teenage girl's head, and Jack had to swallow her nausea to keep going. She drove nearly an hour before she saw the most beautiful sight she's ever seen out of the corner of her eye, brief enough that she almost missed it through the gaps in the trees.


A house. A big house. A big fancy house on a green field in the middle of an estate.


With lights on.


Oh my god.



She looked around for the drive way, and when she found it, she drove into it and parked at the end by the house. She crawled into the back seat of her car and grabbed her bag from the trunk, then cautiously stepped out, holding her bat and looking around. She saw no corpses stumbling around, so she went to the door and slowly - carefully - opened the front door, stepping forward with her baseball bat raised.


"Hello?" She called. She almost cursed out loud. She was beyond insane in her delirium. Calling out so something could hear her? She was stupid.
 
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He heard a voice. He realized it was six o'clock upon closer inspection of his watch and then took a deep, shaky breath as he pulled out his gun that was tucked into his pants and quietly pulled the slide back to cock it. He stood up from the couch and walked over to quietly stand against the wall by the door of the living room. What if it was another one of those things? What if it was someone who was just like them? What if whoever it was had been attacked and ended up like the guy out in the back yard?


He wanted to chance it, but he felt like he couldn't. He thought of the boys and he felt a tugging on his heart - if anything happened to them he wouldn't be able to cope with it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if one of them got so much as a scratch upon their skin. He'd spent the past eight years protecting them and loving them more than life itself, so what would he do if they suddenly became traumatized by some sort of monster creeping up into their room and attacking them? No. No. He couldn't let that happened.


He spun around the corner, the gun raised.


"Stop right there!" He yelled, his hand shaking a little. He had blue-black bags under his eyes from being so deprived of sleep, and he looked pretty pale as well. Was he sick? Well, he still felt sick from where he'd killed that guy last night, but that was a different story for a different discussion. "You--.. Are you one of those fuckin' things?" He asked, his voice trembling. ".. I swear to god... I didn't give the last guy a chance, but I'll give you one... If you're like them, you turn right around and no one's gonna' get hurt." He stuttered, his eyes lining with tears. Things? Oh, right. The zombies.
 
Jack had never had a gun pointed at her before nor had she ever expected to, despite her rambunctious adventures as a teen, especially it's holder looking like he was going to a) pass out or b) get an itchy trigger finger and shoot her by accident. At least he's human, she chided herself. Count your blessings, Jackie. She swallowed hard and instinctively put her hands up, her bat dangling somewhere above her head. She tried not to show any distress on her face.


"I'm human, I swear," She said, her voice shaking against her will. She began to crouch down to put her bat down on the hardwood, the wooden bat making too much noise for her to be comfortable when it clattered against the floor. "I'm just gonna put this down, okay? Just putting it down."


The minute it was out of her hands, she stood back up, hands still pacifying and where the man could see them. The man looked frantic and borderline crazy, and she watched the barrel of the gun closely as it followed her movement.


She tried to think of a good way to not end up with a hole anywhere in her body, then spoke. "My name's Jack. Friends call me Jackie," She said slowly, carefully enunciating her words so there was no room for misinterpretation. "I live -" Lived, she corrected internally. "-in New York," She swallowed again, her throat suddenly dry and aching. "Those things, zombies, whatever the fuck they are..." She shook her head. "New York's gone. I didn't see anybody that wasn't one of those things. Some people might've been lucky and escaped, but I didn't see anybody. I'm not one of them, so please put down the gun." She glanced nervously at the gun in the shaking hands of the man.
 
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"Dad?!" A voice called out, seemingly from the top of the stairs. Jackie could literally see Walter's heart crack in two at the sound of the voice. The voice was that of a young boy. The kids were so clueless. As tears broke down Walter's face, he slowly lowered the gun and tucked it away - he looked at her for a few seconds and then turned back, gulping to himself as he walked over to the stairs and looked up at the young child that was staring down at him. He looked like he'd only just woken up, so he could only assume that he'd heard everything, or mostly everything, that had been said by the two.


".. Go back to your room..." He said, gently. It was Daniel, he saw. ".. Go back to bed, son... It's still early." He said. Daniel frowned and then lowered his head a little, but kept his eyes locked on Walt.


".. But--.. I got up to use the bathroom and I heard you talkin' to someone."


"Go and use the bathroom and go back to bed, pal... It's just a work colleague... It's just some urgent stuff that needs to be done, that's all." He flashed a fake yet warm smile at him and then waved his hand towards him in a dismissive manner. "Go on. Get a few more hours of sleep." He said, Daniel simply smiled and shrugged.


"Okay, dad." He said, and then walked back to the bedroom and closed the door before climbing back into his bed. Walter was happy that he listened to him, and didn't decide to object and be rebellious - the boys did that sometimes. All boys did. Walter took a deep breath and then leaned against the stair rail, looking down at the bottom step. His eyes felt like someone had rubbed sand in them, and his head felt like someone had just taken a glass bottle to it - he needed some coffee.


".. I'm sorry for the gun... and about my kid--.." He said, weakly. ".. Do you--.. You want some tea, or coffee, or something...?" He asked.
 
This was the strangest conversation she had ever had, but in context, it made a hell of a lot of sense. This guy had killed a zed, too. She watched the kid go up the stairs, her stomach clenching tightly. The dad hadn't told the kids yet, and she couldn't decide whether it was a good idea or not. Good because it preserves some essence of innocence in them, but bad because it will be a shock when the zombies inevitably come here. Jack couldn't help the frown that came over her face as she stared where the boy had gone, thinking deeply about it.


She shifted, making an effort to not look out of place in the rich house, and with the way the kid had looked her way, she probably really did look that way. She had, after all, charged into this guy's house. She tried not to feel to uncomfortable, picking up her bat while looking at the man with nervous eyes and hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder. She didn't want to immediately walk in, as the man still seemed really edgy, with the gun still close enough that he could shoot her if he needed to.


But.... Coffee did sound really nice.


Finally she surrendered to sweet temptation, letting a smile as warm as she could manage crawl onto her face. She could bet it looked about as weary and tired as she felt. "I would love some coffee."
 
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".. Great..." He muttered quietly, he looked at her and nodded backwards towards the kitchen. ".. This way." He said. "Make sure the door's locked before you follow, please..." He requested, and then lazily spun on one heel and made his way down the hallway and right through to the luxury kitchen at the back of the house. It was a nice kitchen, without a doubt, and behind the house itself appeared to be at least a few acres of clear land and lush views. He lived in a nice place, without a doubt. This house, considering its location as well as its quality - was worth a lot.


(Kitchen here)

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"You can sit at the breakfast bar if you want... It's up to you... I ain't seen anything at the back of the house since last night, but if you don't want to chance it, that's fine." He said as he made his way over to the coffee machine and flicked it on - he placed two cups under the dispensers and hit a single button on each side. Ooo - Automatic coffee machine. Fancy stuff. The coffee was made with a fine blend of coffee beans, with the perfect amount of milk and cream. As soon as Jack looked at him, she could easily see how bad he'd been treated since last night - he was tired, and his hands were shaking like leaves in a harsh Winter wind. He could barely pick up the coffees without spilling them, but he managed to. He carried them over to another kitchen counter and set them down in front of a sugar pot.


".. My name's Walter..." He said, hesitantly. ".. The boy you saw... That was Daniel. I and my wife had twins, so... Yeah, I've got my hands full in the middle of all this shit." He sighed and added three teaspoons of sugar to his coffee and quickly stirred it. ".. The other one's Carl... You'll meet them both properly later... Do you take sugar?" He asked. It's funny. He mentioned his wife, but she was nowhere to be seen. He didn't look upset enough for her to be dead, so where was she? Then again, if she was dead, he could have easily been holding in the emotion for the sake of the kids.


 
Jackie noticed acutely that the mentioned wife was nowhere to be seen and pursed her lips as she locked the door tight. After a moment of thought, she took the shoe rack, shook the shoes off it, and barricaded the door with it, lost in a haze of thought. His wife wasn't here, and it was unlikely that he would speak of his wife if they were divorced. This man must be trying to erase the emotion he was undeniably feeling. She took off her shoes, unlacing the combat boots quickly, despite how hard her hands shook. She really needed this coffee.


She went after the man, and sat down at the breakfast bar, like he had suggested, her head hanging low and her hair making a curtain around her face. Her shoulders hunched forward, as if burdened with some great weight. She took her coffee thankfully when it was offered, holding the cup tight enough her knuckles turned white. The coffee was hot enough that it burned her palms, but it was almost a confirmation that this nightmare wasn't a dream, it was a terrifying reality. Faces of those she loved flashed through her mind like an unwanted plague, and she ducked her head as her eyes watered.


Wiping her hand against her eyes, she sniffed, then looked up. "I like sugar, yeah," She said, her voice very barely a whisper. She didn't want to bring up his wife, as it was probably a sore spot, so she didn't letting the knowledge that she had probably been in New York hang unspoken through the air like a thick fog. She let go of her coffee, bringing her arm to hold her torso, as if it would hold her together, the feeling that she was falling apart too strong. She felt too unworthy for the fine coffee and the nice house and the comfy chair he offered. Her hands were stained with blood of some poor person that had family, friends, maybe children and a wife, and she began to shake. "I... uh..." She began, but words were suddenly hard to say with her throat all closed up. She couldn't help the way her head collapsed into her hands, and the sob that shook her body as she finally broke.
 
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Walter turned around with the sugar pot in hand and then slowly walked over when he saw her sobbing. With a sigh he put the sugar and the teaspoon down beside her coffee, and then took a seat right beside her. He knew how to comfort his wife when she was upset, but... A random woman who he'd pointed a gun at only five minutes ago? He wasn't really sure. He looked around awkwardly for a moment and then sighed, turning to her - his teeth gritted together like paper to glue behind his closed lips. He wasn't sure how to approach this, but it was certainly better than leaving her like that.


".. Jackie...?" He called out to her, gulping as he hesitantly reached out and put a gentle hand down on her shoulder. ".. I really hate being awkward, but... Are you alright?" He asked, and then looked around again. ".. I'm not sure if it's the whole situation that's upset you, or if it's... something else, but... I won't ask about it unless you want to talk about it, you know?" He gulped again and then rubbed his eyes with one hand, and then used the same hand to scoop two teaspoons of sugar into her coffee. ".. I might work with computers, but... being married for so long, and having two kids... I'm a good listener." He forced the most friendly smile he could manage and then gently patted her shoulder before retracting his hand and stirring her coffee for her, and then picked up his own and quickly took a gulp of it. It felt like someone had dropped a hot coal onto his tongue, but he didn't care - the hot drink was the most relieving thing he'd had since last night, and no matter how hot it was, he was going to drink it.
 
She wiped her eyes, a hysterical laugh that might've been another sob slipping from her. Her body shook as she took a sip of her coffee. It burned her tongue and burned down her throat, but it was the only thing holding her from becoming even more of a wreck than she already was. She put the cup down, taking deep breaths, then tried to find a good way to explain why she had randomly burst into tears. She rubbed the back of her neck, sighing.


"I don't usually break down like that," She said, wincing at how hoarse her voice sounded. She took another drink, then tried it again. "I had to, uh..." she sniffed, wiping her eyes clear again. "I killed one of them. It got into my apartment and I crushed it's head with a baseball bat," She shuddered, remembering how oddly cold the blood had been when it splattered up into her face, how it felt more like some gel than it felt like blood.


"I'm pretty sure it was one of my neighbours, but I couldn't... I couldn't let him just eat me, y'know? Then there was all the shit I saw coming up here and just... All of it got to me."


Jackie looked at him, a haunting darkness overcoming the light blue of her eyes. "What about you? I'm not gonna ask if you aren't gonna tell, but I'm pretty sure that you had one of 'em attack you, too, with how much you know about it, even from all the way out here."
 
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He looked away slowly and took a long silence while he drank his coffee, but then took a deep breath and started talking. He may as well get the truth out. He was an honest guy, after all.


"It started last night for me... We were watching a news report about riots... The boys had gone to bed a little while earlier, and... It was just me and my wife. I fell asleep on the couch with her and she snuck out... I think. She had family in the city, so... Yeah... Regardless. She ain't came back yet." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "All the phones were down... I heard something break in the poolside guest house and I went down to check it out... This guy walked out, missing a hand, throat torn out... I hit him with a golf club until he stopped moving." He explained.


He paused for a while longer and sipped his coffee.


"I still don't know where my wife is, but... I think it was--.. I think it was wrong of her to leave the children behind the way she did." He sighed sadly.
 
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't agree with you," She agreed, taking a long sip of her coffee. "But the news reports didn't do it justice. Fuck, it didn't even show how bad it was." She said, her head in her hands as she slowly shakes her head. "They came in a hoard. I thought it was some fanatics with a thing for zombies... But then they..." Breathing in, she continued. "A woman jumped and tore at a guy's face with her teeth. Men, women, children... Everybody. Then the dead... Got up. Mostly. Some just stayed dead for some reason, and I stepped away from the window tryin' to wrap my head around why the fuck everyone had lost their mind and started to eat each other when I heard one scratching at my door. I went and hid with the bat, and then it broke in, and you know the rest."


She looked at Walter, her expression solemn. "I'm sorry about your wife." Jack said nothing more, and returned to focusing on her coffee a bit too intently to be subtle about it. She looked up, then, her expression worried. "This house, secluded as it is, isn't safe. We should either leave for somewhere less inhabited and dense or barricade this place if we want to live." Pursing her lips tightly together, she spoke quietly. "They've gone across the bridges and through the tunnels. Jersey's getting chewed up and spit out by them. They'll be here in a matter of hours. If we're gonna be leaving, we should go in less than an hour. And your sons... They should know what's going on. Or they'll learn the hard way what these things are and what they do."
 
"I hoped my wife would come back, but..." He sighed. "I've got a horrible feeling that that isn't the case." He choked, wiping his eyes before gulping on his coffee again.


He thought about what she'd said, and she was right. They couldn't stay here, not at all. If these things trapped them, they'd be done for.


"If I go and wake the boys up, could you come along?" He asked. "It'd be easier for me to introduce you there and then, and... You seem to know more about what's going on out there." He sighed and slowly rose up and gulped down the rest of his coffee. "I mean, it's alright if you want to stay here, but... I'd appreciate it if you came with me." He explained.
 
She nodded, getting up slowly. "Yeah, better in smaller numbers," She paused a second, before cracking a weak smile. "Least, that's what video games have told me."


She then looks up to the stairs, pursing her lips. "You can go wake them up, I'm gonna pack up some food. I gotta feeling that foods gonna get hard to come by." Tapping her fingers on the counter, her expression told him that her mind was on overdrive. "We'd need medicals shit, alcohol of any kind, canned foods, lots of blankets, warm clothes, clothes in general..."


She trailed off a little bit, and her eyes grew wide. "Jesus fuck," She whispered, then looked with wide eyes to Walter. "This is what it feels like to live during the apocalypse, isn't it?"
 
"I've got a feeling that we ain't even seen the half of it." He sighed and then nodded to her. "Yeah. I'll get them up and bring them back down... You can meet them then." He smiled faintly and then wandered up the stairs and into the bedroom of the two boys.


He looked over them while they slept and smiled a little as he went to stand between their beds. They looked so sweet and innocent when they were asleep, and they didn't look like kids that caused any trouble at all - he loved them, but sometimes they could be stubborn and persistent.


"Carl, Daniel... I need you two to wake up." He said. It's good they were light sleepers, they both quickly awoke and looked up at him.


"Huh...?" Carl yawned. Daniel simply shuffled out of bed and sat on the edge of it.


"Come downstairs, guys... We've got a bit of a situation, but don't panic." He said, and then walked out of the room and went back downstairs while the two boys trailed not too far behind him.


When they got to the kitchen, both boys stopped at the doorway when they saw Jackie. Walter sighed and went behind them both and placed a hand on their heads.


"Jackie... These are my twin sons. Carl." He patted the left boy's head. "And Daniel." He said, patting the head of the boy on the right. "Guys, this is Jackie... Or Jack." He smiled, Carl simply smiled at her.


"Hi." Carl said, simply.


"Hi, Jackie... Nice to meet you." Daniel said, it was evident who the most outgoing of the pair was. The only problem was that you could hardly tell the two apart.
 
Jackie looked to them, smiling best she could. She tried to pick out smaller differences, maybe in behaviour. Carl was more slouched over and shy, seeming to curl into himself a bit, whereas Daniel puffed out his chest ever so slightly in a display of confidence. She didn't reach out for a handshake or try to touch them, as many boys their age probably didn't want to be babied.


"Nice to meet you two," She replied, her smile feeling a bit uncomfortable on her cheeks. She looked to Walter, her expression tense. "Would you rather me, or...?" She let her words trail off, the clenching of her hands showing her uneasiness.
 
He looked at her and sighed, and then went to the front of the boys and crouched down in front of them, resting a hand on each of their shoulders.


"Boys... This might shock you a little... But we have to leave the house." He said. Both boys' jaws just dropped and they looked near enough heartbroken.


"Wh-Why?" Carl asked.


"Because, I... There's something going on in the city. We're all in danger if we stay here, and... I want you both to be safe..." He hugged them both with his arms. "Mom went out last night. She ain't back yet, but we'll keep an eye out for her when we leave, okay?" He said, the boys' eyes just filled with tears. That was just as hard for them to accept as it was for Walter. "I love you both so much, okay? We'll be together in this, like an army." He chuckled and ruffled their hair. "You go and get dressed, and then come back down here." He said.


"Okay, dad..." They both whimpered in unison, quickly turning away but then slowly walking down the hall. He waited for them to disappear upstairs, and then he looked at Jackie and gave a sigh once more.


"That wasn't easy." He said simply.
 
She clapped him on the shoulder, smiling tightly. "It's for the best. As long as we get the jump on them, we'll be able to avoid those... things." She looked upstairs, a frown marring her face. "We'll need a big bag for it all, and, uh..." She blinked, then continued to speak. "They might want a comfort thing. A blanket, a stuff animal, something like that. And my jeep is four wheel drive and four seated, so it might be a better choice than anything else..."


She sighed, rubbing her eyes. Christ. Zombie apocalypses were complicated.
 
"I have a BMW X6... Four wheel drive, fast, plenty of room... I ain't trying to show off, or anything." He chuckled a little. "We should take that. Might be able to get around a little quicker that way, too." He explained.


He took a moment to think about the comfort items Jackie spoke about. Maybe... He wasn't sure on whether or not the boys would want that.


"Yeah, can do, I guess... You'll notice about the two of them that they use each other as a comfort item. Can't catch the two apart..." He smiled warmly. "I'll grab some stuffed animals, some pillows, and a blanket, regardless. It'll be nice for them to have that if they need it." He explained. He thought about it even more after that, they rarely had things like stuffed animals unless they were worried about one another. Usually, they'd just be there for each other no matter what - if they panicked about how each other were, there kinship sort of shut down temporarily and they both slipped into a shell of panic.


"Do you think the boys are alright? They looked upset." He gulped a little and rubbed the back of his head in nervousness.
 
"They're worried because mom is missing and now dad suddenly wants them to leave," Jackie said, her lips pursed. The boys seemed upset when they had come downstairs, so she could guess that they already knew their mom wasn't here. "They aren't oblivious; kids have got a wicked sixth sense for when somethings wrong or somethings up. And as for the BMW, that would work. I'll leaved my car here with it's keys in case anyone pops up and needs a car."


"I, uh..." She hesitated, her fingers tapping annoyingly - her nervous habit- against the counter. "I should go get some stuff. I'll just try to find shit. The things should be here in a few hours, and I don't want to be anywhere near here when they hit."


She pushed away from the counter and went upstairs, looking first for a suitcase of some sort. When she found it, she looked around for the bathroom, then started to shovel things she thought would be important. Band-aids, bandages, gauze, pills, anything medical went into the bag. She grabbed soaps for wounds, then moved back into the hall and grabbed a few extra blankets and shoved them in the bag. She hesitated to go get clothes, as she didn't want to intrude. She only had the clothes on her back, consisting of a pair of jeans, combat boots, a t-shirt, and a light bomber jacket.


She took a second to lean her head against the wall.


Fuck everything.
 

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