The Dead World

Another quiet night, just the way Connor liked. It had taken some time but he'd eventually learned to live with it. The silence almost as oppresive as the bleak night. Of course he had to ignore the occasional groan of a passing zombie. But in five years it only now elicitted a slight feeling of dread.

Knock.

It was a sound that was far enough away. Had to be nothing. It wasn't unusual in this dead world to mistaken noises. A shuffling zombie could brush up against a loose lamp, an old building finally crumbling in the distance. The building Connor was taking shelter in was once a block of flats, the pipes made noise all the time.

Knock. Knock.

That was louder, closer. Was that a knock? No. He was just a little antsy today. Having been chased by a small horde after a slight mis-step during the day's scavenging mission for food. Nearly getting eaten alive will do that to you.

No. It was definitely just the pipes.

He took a deep breath and relaxed in the old armchair that came with the flat he'd been staying in the past few weeks. Staring at the flickering candle in the middle of the room had become his new past time, the only light source in the dark room. He couldn't risk people seeing him even through the windows he'd blacked out with newspaper.

Yeah. It had just been a long day. Nothing but his own nerves.

Knock. Knock.

Right. That was definitely a knock. Maybe one floor down, potentially two. He hadn't seen anyone living in weeks. Not since the bandits from the South passed through. Maybe they'd come back?

He moved slowly to the window, moving a strip of newspaper from the window, grabbing his rifle as he looked out across the city.

It was cloudy night. The city below much darker than it normally is. Still. No movement below nothing had been disturbed. No shuffling corpses. Even the rats that had taken over the city weren't out tonight.

Knock. Knock.

His heart was beating too fast for his liking. It meant he was more likely to make a mistake. But the knocking was below him; someone or something was moving around. Now he could hear movement. It was clumsy, clearly knocking into things that clatered to the floor. Making too much noise.

Connor re-covered the window and returned his rifle as quietly as possible. He stepped slowly and carefully across the room to pick up his knife. He'd spent far too long and done some awful things to be killed now.

He waited at his door for a moment, just to brace himself for what was about to happen. If it was the dead, slightly easy, alive, not so easy. Even after all this time.

His hand clutched the door handle like a voice. "Come on Connor, pull it together". He rested his head on the door, "stop talking to yourself and breathe".

The handle creaked slightly as he pushed down. Thankfully he'd spent enough time oiling the hinges for the door to open quietly.

Bang!

Whatever fell downstairs startled Connor, he pushed the door shut, making more noise than he would've liked.

There were footsteps now, climbing fast up the stairs. Connor steadied himself, knife pointed at the door ready to silence whatever came through the door. Lucky for him it sounded like only the one, now on the landing of his floor.

Knock. Knock.

Just down the hall. It was definitely not a zombie, "shit" Connor muttered, adjusting his grip as he heard the person knocking on the flat next door. He released the handle of the door slowly, letting it shut again.

"Hello is anyone there?"

Connor was sweating, whoever this was they were making far too much noise. Yes, it was a tall building, but noise carries much further in this empty world.

Knock. Knock. "Is anyone there?"

"Fuck" it was a guy and he was right outside. He lowered the knife, there was no way he could do it. If he just stayed quiet they would leave and hopefully no zombies would appear.

"Is there anyone there? I can see a light under the door".

It was like he was going to be sick. He looked back at the candle he'd forgotten to blow out. In an attempt to extinguish it he forgot about his shadow now cast against the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock. "Please I can see you moving, please let me in i'm begging".

Connor let out a long sigh, "look I'm really sorry but I haven't got enough resources for anymore people". He jumped as the door rattled. His hand gripped the knife again, "I've got a gun, please can you just fuck off". Whoever was the other side of the door didn't need to know it was only a knife.

Then came another loud crash. Followed by the sound of multiple footsteps rushing up the stairs. Erratic footsteps, definitely zombies. Connor predicted at least three; possibly smelling the idiot at his door.

"Please let me in I can hear them coming" the door rattled even harder.

Connor paced. He could just keep the door closed, let the stranger get eaten. At the end of the day it was his own fault. It would be quick. Hopefully. Just some blood curdling screaming. "Fuck".

He threw the knife to the side and hurried to the door, clumsily unlocking it, grabbing the man and pulling him inside.

"Thank you, oh thank God, thank you".

"Shut the fuck up" Connor shut the door, locking it and ran to blow the candle out. Even in the sudden darkness he could see the stranger was tall, slim, dirty blonde hair that must've been neat at one point but was now long and scraggly.

"I'm Nathan".

"I said shut the fuck up" Connor whispered. He held his hand against Nathan's chest, one finger to his lips. He looked to the door, the flurry of footsteps reaching the top floor.

Bang.

He could hear them crashing against the door down the hall. Corpses stumbling round a long abandoned flat.

Bang!

Now they were in the flat next door. Furniture toppled and smashed. A crash against the wall caused Connor to start quivering despite himself.

"What do we do?" Nathan whispered, gripping Connor's shoulder tight.

"Just-back up a bit" Connor murmured, stepping backwards away from the door. He watched under the door as a shadow shuffled into view. "There is a bedroom to the right, I've got a plan".

A groan came against the door to the flat, soft scratching on the wood, short sniffs of the air.

Nathan whimpered, "will this plan work?"

"God I hope so" Connor glanced at the knife he had left on the chair, cursing his own stupidity, "in the bedroom under the pillow is a gun-"

"where'd you get a gun?"

"-go and grab it now".

The groan got louder. Another joined it. Then came a swift...

Bang.

"Go no" Connor heard Nathan rush to the right as he launched forward, grabbing his knife as all the zombies started crashing against the door.

As he ran into the bedroom he opened a cupboard to his left, picking up hunks of meat he had been gathering and threw them round the flat.

"Meat" Nathan growled, "thats your fucking great plan?" He stood in the cornor clutching a gun between two fingers like it was going to go off like a bomb.

"Be quiet" Connor hurled the final piece of meat, "get in the fucking cupboard and pray this actually works". He grabbed Nathan, pushing him into the cupboard. As the door shut the front door crashed open.

Terrible gargles and monstrous screams filled the previously safe flat.

The two men huddled together shaking with fear while trying to keep as quiet as possible. Connor just had to hope his plan would work.

For a while the corspes crashed round the flat, a frenzy driven worse by the smell of meat that filled the room. Eventually on fell silent, then another. It had worked, Connor couldn't quite believe it.

He reached back, his hand brushing Nathan's hand, a warmth filling. It had been a long time since he'd spoke with someone yet alone had physical touch. He looked back giving a small smile to the stranger, then put his finger to his mouth to keep quiet before slowly opening the cupboard.

They could hear the wet smacking of rotting teeth on raw meat before they saw the first zombie huddled over one of the steaks.

Connor indicated for Nathan to wait while he shuffled forward. The knife shook as he raised it, only stilling when he slammed it through the zombie's skull, ending it.

It wasn't safe to relax just yet. With thick black blood dripping down his hand, he entered the living room where the second zombie faced away devouring meat.

Once again Connor shuffled forward as quietly as he could and brought the knife down, lodging in its head as it collapsed, finally still.

He looked around, seeing and hearing nothing else, "I must've miscounted". He couldn't help chuckling, wiping sweat from his forehead and shaking off the blood from his hand.

"Thank you" Nathan appeared round the corner, "you saved my life, I didn't know what to do, I thought I was going to die..."

As Nathan blurted out a steam of thank yous, Connor couldn't help look at the floor, now covered in bloody footprints. Only from the door, they split into three directions: two of them straight to where the silenced zombies lay, the third set curved back on themselves, leaving the flat. "Nathan-"

There was a low wet groan as the third zombie shuffled round the corner. It saw, them and let out a scream more like a wild animal. It made to run at them before a loud bang and something tore through it's shoulder.

Connor turned to see a shell shocked Nathan holding the gun out in front of him. "I've never fired a gun before".

Before the zombie could recover Connor grabbed the gun and unloaded another bullet into it's head. Brains hit the wall behind, the zombie falling silent.

"Always aim for the head" Connor snapped. He looked aorund at the mess. He'd need to change locations now. He looked at Nathan, "thank you for trying to save me as well, I guess".

A plethora of screeches echoed from outside. Running to the window Connor snatched the newspaper away and looked down. Zombies swarmed the building like cockroaches, some shuffling other running in their direction. The absolute racket they had just made like a bell for dinner time.

"What do we do?" Nathan had gone back to whimpering.

There was only one thing anyone could do nowadays. There was no sign of the zombies going away. Connor knew, it was just a matter of survive for as long as possible. He took hold of Nathan's hand and have him a stern look, "run".