It was a nice spring afternoon with a cold complexion that made you wear a sweater: Zoie closed the bedroom window, blocking the charging temperatures from further expanding within her room.
Residue of the nipping breeze left its grime on her skin; leaving a glimpse of goose-flesh. She grabs a gray sweater draping her chair, pulling over the hoodie she got from her boyfriend Shane; the warmth it brings pairing with the cozy butterflies in her chest subsides the stagnated cold.
Whistling of the spring breeze knocks on her bedroom window, reminding her of the approaching storm. She pulls over her headphones from grabbing them off of a hook alongside her desk, the soft ear pads silencing the breeze’s greeting.
Before detouring her gaze towards the laptop, she swings it to her phone, her thumb meeting the sleek screen of her device. Zoie’s thumb ballets with the smartphone, bringing the screen to display black and greens with a series of text listing titles of songs.
With a repeated motion, she taps on a playlist, making her headphones telegraph the app’s tunes. The world around Zoie transforms into a tiny concert just for her.
After she brings the phone down with a little thudding tap, she focuses her gaze towards the silver metallic laptop.
She grips the top portion of the computer, the light reflecting on the laptop escapes downwards as it arches upwards.
A Flash of ethereal light shines on her glossy, dark coffee-colored eyes upon opening her portable computer. Alongside her, is a piece of paper she’ll begin her homework with; seeing the little letters featuring problems brings her to furrow her brows, with her eyes narrowing slightly, along with her mouth slightly curling.
Zoie’s homework wasn’t going anywhere even with the spring break, disliking the fact her history teacher assigned the class to do extra work during the small vacation; her attention drifts back to the computer screen.
Having a smooth metallic touch, she focuses the cursor over towards the classroom’s note section, little shimmers notifying her when the action was made and the sheet had opened up: listing a bunch of other student’s notes amongst her own.
She would rather be playing a brand new game that her parents had bought her for her birthday with Shane, than to do her homework amidst the dull activity of studying.
Shane was your average Joe: Short spiky hair with dark-chocolate-brown eyes, however to her, Shane was everything: handsome, smart, and easy to talk to, just thinking about him makes her hear sprout a fuzzy warmness to her chest.
Even if Zoie makes an attempt to hide the feelings around company and her other mischievous friends, she can’t deny the warmth that the thought of him brings.
She would like to think that her friends are clueless about the engagement between her and Shane, but in reality it’s nothing more than in her head.
The imaging on the laptop flickered, pitching light as it got cut out.
“Mom!?” Zoie yells out to her mother downstairs, Zoie brings her headphones down and taps on the screen to pause the music, “Mom!..."
Her mother props the door open and peeks inside, “yes?” her eyebrows raising up with conveying curiosity.
“Do you know why my laptop keeps cutting out like this?” She pivots the laptop, making tiny scratching noises as it faces her mother, who's now in her room with hands on the waist.
The woman leans down, taking a closer inspection at the displaying mirror of the laptop; she stands upright “I’m not sure, lately the power has been cutting out downstairs, maybe it finally reached your room.” her eyebrow, still conveying with confusion as she gestures towards a possibility.
“Alright…” Zoie had angled the laptop towards herself with an exhale, the computer's light flickers again and she sighs, her mother placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving it a tender rub. “You could try the office, see if it’s working there.” Her mother gave a possible option.
“Thanks mom!” Her chords dilate, taking the laptop and pocketing her phone.
“She’s at least trying to study,” her mother had whispered to herself as she watched her daughter dart towards the office room.
She grabs the piece of paper Zoie had forgotten, her gaze looking up and down the sheet, seeing little to no work has been done and sighs.
Sirens raced down the street, glazing its red hues onto the crystal clear window.
Zoie’s mom looks up from the piece of paper seeing cascading clouds filming over, dropping slight sprinkles on her daughter's bedroom window, foreshadowing its full arrival.
Having the ambient pitter patter of raindrops, and with the school sheet of paper in hand, brings her back to her school-yard days—having her husband catching her from her bedroom window while they sneaked past-curfew.
Luckily she didn’t have to worry about these two doing that, unless she thinks that’s the case. Knowing how she was and how her daughter is. She forms a hunch, thinking they’ve snuck past her already to go play video games together.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
She tears her gaze from the mental image, grabbing the pencil Zoie had forgotten as well.
Having both in hand, she makes her way through the bedroom and into the hallway, glimpsing a shadow figure from her peripherals, but conveys it to be her mind playing tricks on her by flipping on the light switch.
Switching it back off; showing nothing there—she heads to the office seeing Zoie had vanished and the window opened, its currents twisting in by the current breeze.
Fragrance of rain spews into the house. “Just as I thought” she drops the pencil and paper on the desk, the pencil responds with a tap as it holds down the paper.
Laura brings herself closer to the open window, scanning out the windowsill spotting Zoie pacing herself out the backyard.
“maybe take your homework with you!” She erupts the cloud covered lot in conjunction with raising her hands in exasperation as she sees her daughter look over her shoulder.
“Shit” Zoie mumbles, turning to wave to her mom. “I’ll catch you later, I’m sorry!” She yells back to her mom simultaneously turning back around to zip through her neighbors yard, her mother standing in the window frame with her hands on her waist.
Fresh sirens fly by their house as Laura closes the window, her figure retreats from its frame.
Zoie dips and vaults through backyards, counting down the house's numbers in her mind; Housing numbers increase the closer you get to the city, making it a smooth process.
She steps into lot 105, getting greeted with a figure standing over a tipped trash-can, its leftovers spewed out across the thinned grass ground.
Shivers race across her back, just thinking about some random stranger outside eating left-overs like some wild animal.
Knowing herself, she didn’t want any troubles from them, although seeing this figure on their knees eating meaty remains has her stomach turning in knots.
Thoughts sting across her mind. “You shouldn’t be eating trash like some raccoon” she let slip, she took herself by surprise as the words flew right out of her.
The figure’s head leans sideways then snaps its view over to Zoie. Leaving regret about the slip-up.
Patterns of rain sprinkles her shoulders and dalmatians the strangers back.
"S-sorry, do whatever pleases you.” She musters up from the bottom of her spinning stomach, her hands slightly raised: her bones, her mind, her whole self telling her to get-out-of-bail as the character’s body slumps forward, smacking into the ground; The silhouette begins to groan.
Her body jolts, her brain trying to send information to her body, saying it’s time to move or she might regret it; and she does. The figure leaps forward, grabbing her ankle, Zoie lets out a yelp as she trips, meeting the wet grass below.
Neighboring lights of cars flicker through the streets, imprinting strings of rain with a warm glow.
She wants to yell out, but the air is caught in her throat, the figure inches closer to her with amplifying groans; the face comes to light.
Zoie sees that it’s a man: The face is bloodied and crunched up on itself, his jaw’s are wide, unhuman-like.
He advances, Zoie can feel the man’s weight come down on her, his hands acting like thick needles as he pushes forward, leading to an outcome of biting her neck.
Zoie yells from the affliction, feeling the piercing pain of his teeth burrowing into her flesh, lashing out, she punches the man's face with a right hook as hard as she can “Get off of me!” birthing strings of saliva as the man fumbles to the ground; their body convulsing.
She staggers up, nearly slipping on the coated grass, without much thought she sprints back home, clutching her wounded neck as she prevails forward.
Zoie could hear the howls behind her as she vaulted over the fence, feeling its wet wooden complexion.
Seeing a hole on a neighboring fence, she did a slide, maneuvering smoothly amongst the backyards.
Reaching her own home within a sprinter's pace, she reaches the handle of the back door— her hand flinches seeing it already open, her heart freezes.
Thoughts emerge; hoping it could only be her mother or father that had opened the door to scold her as she had raced away towards Shane's house, Then his name forces itself out " Shane.” She says with a soft disorientation.
She stays flat-footed, deciding against the urge to go back.
Facing the back-opened-door, she enters it with a bolt. “Mom!” She yells out into the dark, “Dad!” She repeats.
Scuffling through her house, Zoie bumps into the counters, damaging her waist, sending searing strings of pain throughout; her face crunches as it echoes throughout her waist.
Zoie clenches her teeth as she presses the pain threshold down, she finds her way through the pitched house. “Mom!” She waits for an answer from any one of them, but the only response willing to greet her is the rattle of downpour.
Grunts occupied the space as the lights fluctuated back on.
The pale yellow lights from the porch opened its vision onto the wet empty parking space.
“They’re gone!?” Fauceting anger causes Zoie to slam her fist onto the counter.
With motion, the pain reflects back, creeping up towards her neck, she places additional pressure onto the wound, ordering her free hand to shuffle through the drawers–finding leftover gauze from her dad’s injury a few weeks back.
Zoie grabs the rolled gauze, pinching the other end to unravel it.
The fabric emits tiny pops as she mends herself, simultaneously keeping the pressure steady; a memory from her dads injury is plain as day, hearing her father yell at the top of his lungs about the circumstance.
“Place your hand onto the wound with firm pressure—keep the pressure going as you wrap the gauze around the injury!” Following the traumatic memory she completes the set up.
Her energy quivers down, yet she remains persistent, locking the doors; moving anything to barricade the doors in case that "thing" comes back.
She maneuvers towards the stairs, placing her hand on the wooden railing, blood from her hand coats its dermis as she struggles up the flight, reaching the top, Zoie sees nothing out of the ordinary.
Zoie heads towards the most comfortable place—her bedroom, she grips the handle with her cold wet hand seeing it’s locked and a faint groan creaks within from her attempt.
A striking flash recalls the previous event, she hurried to the office room, taking the desk and sliding it to her bedroom with bent knees, pushing it with all of her force.
The faint buzz of the groan escalates amongst the roar of the moving desk, pressing the furniture piece against the pounding door, enclosing it for good.
She leans her back onto the opposite wall, her chest swaying with heavy breathing.
Spotting her bloody hand-print in front of her, matching with the desk trim, inflames her, chemicals within her chest burn through a series of veiny rivers; a slow expansion throughout.
Zoie pushes herself forward, moving towards her parents bedroom.
She turns the doorknob, its mechanical work squeaking into the hallway.
She opens the door, seeing her parents unmade bed brings a nip of relief, she staggers towards it, making a sound as she flops onto the bed.
In her room, she hears the muffled growls responding to her fall, shortly after, Zoie can hear echoing of sirens speeding through streets, varying in intensity - cloaking cries pairing with crystal howls.
Zoie expands her lungs, doing a deep inhale - smelling the residue of cologne and other fragrances, the growing reality makes her rummage in her mind for a certain outcome.
“A zombie Apocalypse”
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───