4th PAWW’s story

So I’m late again, I’m sorry. The thing is that I work every other weekend, and I had something in the evenings as well, which made it very difficult to publish on time. At least it’s almost 1k words, so I wasn’t lazying around either (much). This came out differently than I originally planned, but I like it. As an apology, I will try my best to publish the 5th story on Friday instead of Saturday. 

Her stomach growled, the sound loud in the small bedroom she’d taken refuge in. Jada couldn’t fall asleep, thoughts haunted her every time she closed her eyes. The sight of her friends lying on the ground, dying light in the eyes and mouth agape. How she was the only survivor of that massacre wasn’t a miracle, her friend protected her with his life, and now she was all alone once more with nothing but guilt.

It was dark outside, there was no way she could go out at that time, let alone find any food. Zombies were lurking nearby, or some thugs who would see her as a plaything. She’d have to endure until the morning.

Jada woke up later with a start, and wondered what disturbed her uneasy slumber. Footsteps right outside the window, steady enough to let her know they weren’t originated from a zombie. She scrambled on her feet and picked her kitchen knife before doving back under the covers. She listened. They were trying to come inside. The doorknob rotated, but the lock was on. They would either try the windows, break one and test the danger of zombies hearing the noise, or leave the place alone. She hated being on the first floor, plainly visible if the person checked the insides of the house with a flashlight, but her body hurt too much and fatigue clung to her all day, so she hadn’t investigated the upper floor. She’d locked herself in the first bedroom she found, and now she was regretting it. She stayed as quiet as possible under the covers, playing they would go away.

She yelped when the front door was broken open, but quickly pressed a hand against her mouth.

“Look at all that junk,” a man said, and she heard another one snicker. The house had been a mess when she stepped in, the family in a rush to leave. The closets and drawers left opened and everything scattered around. The men, two of them judging by their voices, began to look around, talking about a bar not far from here they planned on going after. Jada stayed silent for a few minutes before she took upon herself to crawl under the bed, making sure she couldn’t be seen between the closet and the wall.

She accidentally put her hand in a spider web and bit back a scream. She lived through worse, she could do this. The men didn’t want to leave, and they were making a bit of noise. The blood in her veins stopped when a sinister groan emitted from outside.

“Fuck did you hear that?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

With the grace of an elephant, they made their way to the bedroom, to her horror. They shut the door and, for a moment, she could only hear their breathing, heavy in the silence of the house. The zombies walked inside, one of his feet dragging on the floor with a sound that turned Jada’s tomach. She didn’t dare moving an inch of her body, blood beating furiously in her ears. They soon would find her, kill her, rape her or give her to the zombies as a distraction.

The growls were closer, she could tell, right outside the door. The zombie began to bang on it.

“Shit, it’s gonna lure others. We have to kill it,” one hushed to the other.

Fuss, the click of a flick-knife.

“Okay, on three.”

One of them counted, and as he opened the door, she spread from underneath the bed, knife in hand. The men looked dirty and at least a foot taller than her, their brown hair greasy and poking in every angle. They were both focused on the zombies, so she wasn’t noticed until she stabbed the one closest to her in the back.

“Wha— “ The other one saw her from the corner of his eyes, but the zombie was on him.

Her blade scraped against a rib, stopping any real damage, but the second stab went through deeply. Blood seeped around the knife, dripped down the handle. Her hand was slick with sweat, she failed twice to retrieve the weapon from the man who kept making a wet sound. By then he fell on the floor, the other one finishing the zombie.

“What the fuck?” He took a look at his friend, at her bloodied knife and distraught appearance. “Why the fuck did you do that?” He shouted at her. He gripped her by the throat and slammed her body against the wall. His eyes were strikingly green and furious.

“I don’t want to die.” She managed to stutter, her hands trying in vain to make him release her.

“So that’s why you kill people for no reason? Being a woman gives you no credit. Not now, not ever.”

He finally released her, and she fell on her knees, gasping for air. Tears blinded her and escaped on the floor.

“I thought I had no choice. You say that because I’m a woman things are different, but you’re wrong. Everything is different; you have no clue what it’s like.” She looked up at him, sobbing and hating herself for that. She fumbled for her knife that she discarded when the man grabbed her. She growled in frustration when the man kicked it away, under the bed. He took her arm, put her back on her feet with a surprisingly gentle pull.

“You’re right. But we’re few and killing each other on top of that is fucking useless. I didn’t know him that well, but he wouldn’t have hurt you. Now, you’re coming with me back to my group. We’ll decide what we’ll do from there on.” He had a resolute look on his face, and she didn’t detect any malice in his words. He seemed …like a good person.

The PAWW Project