Dead or Alive: Another Zombie Survival Story (working title)

Bonnie stared into the forest of shadows outside their camp. With her eyes fully adjusted to the lack of light, she could make out the closest of the maze of 10 foot shelves surrounding them. Each path led to a different area of the super store and was intermittently set with strings of cans at various heights to sound the alarm of any approaching body. There was no tell-tale clamor from the sound-traps, and the silence was broken only by the rhythmic /click click click/ of the bullets Micah was sliding into a clip. He finished and added the full one to a small pile next to him.

Bonnie slid shut the metal sheet that served as a door for their makeshift bunker and secured the barricade into its slot. She blinked rapidly as lantern light swelled to fill their small home, splashing off the tarnished walls and the grim, wary faces of her companions. "Home" was the result of Micah and his dad, along with a few others long since gone, constructing a wooden frame that closed in a corner of the store and then walls of metal sheets, bits of shelves, and furniture scrap held together with nails, screws, a little welding where possible, and a lot of faith. There were only two exits: the front "door" she'd come through which led to the rest of the store, and the employee exit to the parking lot which was heavily barricaded as well.

Micah perched on the desk that usually served as dinner table loading the last of the firearms they had stockpiled from the sporting goods section and what they could access of the warehouse out back. Hank, Micah's father, was next to the lantern with Clara in his lap, listening raptly to the fairytale he was invariably whispering to her.

Bonnie crossed to the bar and knelt beside them. "Everything is going to be okay, baby," she said as she brushed a springy lock of red hair off Clara's forehead. The little girl caught her mother's hand before she could pull away and pressed it to her cheek. Wide blue-gray eyes bore into Bonnie's, but the child didn't speak. "I promise," Bonnie choked, kissing her forehead. She met Hank's worried look, a thousand fears passing between them, and then she freed herself from her daughters embrace and crept towards the darkest corner of their shelter.

A large safe from the office supplies section stored all the canned goods they could fit and a second safe held just as much bottled water. A stack of empty, unzipped backpacks were piled atop the safes, ready to be loaded at a moments notice. A figure stirred, almost invisible In the shadows. As her eyes adjusted, Bonnie made out the gaunt figure curled up on a short stack of sleeping bags, her head propped up by the bulging duffel bag which held their precious spoils from the pharmacy. An unopened water bottle and the last of their fresh fruit, an apple picked on one of Devon's last supply runs, sat untouched beside her. Kate was a vegetarian, and the group, especially Devon, had always taken care to keep her stocked up on anything fresh they discovered. Bonnie swallowed a flare of frustration at the browning apple slices, untouched but for the ants marching single file from fruit to floor to who-knows-where.

"Hey, Kate," she called touching the girl's shoulder. Kate's eyes didn't flicker from the hole she was boring through the ceiling. "Thanks for keeping an eye on things. I know-" she faltered searching for the right words. She could feel all of Kate's bones through her sweater; the girl had eaten nothing in the last week. She hadn't always been this way. At first she had just as much fight in her as any of them. But there had been more of them then. With each loss, Kate had grown more detached, harder to reach. When her brother was the first to meet their new neighbors the week before, Kate simply quit. She listened to Micah and Hank tell her what happened, she nodded, then she layed down on the sleeping bags and hadn't moved since.

"I know this is hard, Kate. I know you don't want to keep fighting, but you have to. We need you. Clara needs you." Kate glanced at the ratty teddy bear Clara had tucked in with her a few days prior to help her 'feel better', "I know I'll be able to trust you to do what you need to do."

Micah appeared as if on cue and gently rested a pistol and two extra clips next to Kate's hand. He offered another to Bonnie who tried to hide her trembling as she took it. Micah gave Kate a worried look before pulling Bonnie aside.

"I don't want to-" Bonnie began, her voice cracking with emotion.

"I know," Micah whispered, offering her the extra clips for her weapon.

Bonnie took them and rolled them over in her hands before meeting his stormy blue eyes. "They're just people, Micah. They're just scared, like us. I-I mean, they could have kids or sick people. What if-"

Micah grasped her by the shoulders, gently but sternly. "They killed Devon." He murmured. "Good people don't kill Innocent folks, and you know damn well Devon was the least threatening kid you could meet. Knowing him, he probably walked up waving and asking them to come for dinner. "

Bonnie nodded but a small sob escaped her lips. She covered her face with her hands and tried to turn away. Micah pulled her into his chest and hugged her as her body shook with silent tears. He pushed her back to arms length and brushed a tendril of copper hair off her face, identical to her daughter's. A thousand things he wanted to say roared in his ears but he swallowed them.

"You're stronger than this," he said, regarding her intently, "Me, Kate, my dad--we've been safe inside this store for the last 8 months. We were here when it all happened. You've survived out there, and you kept yourself and your little girl alive. I don't know everything that you saw out there, Bonnie, but you're a survivor. That's what matters. We need you. I know I do." He cleared his throat and took a step back, his hands falling from her shoulders.

Bonnie's eyes shone with the tears she was now battling down.

"Micah-" she began, her words lost in the jarring tune of empty tin cans clanging together. It was distant, but the sound carried, bouncing off the exposed metal roof of the store. Bonnie clutched her pistol tightly in one hand and extended the other to her little girl. Hank watched until Clara was safely across the room before extinguishing the lantern. Bonnie led her through the darkness to Kate's spot. She squeezed Clara's tiny hand one more time and then made her way to where she could hear Micah snapping a clip into the base of his pistol. A few feet to her right Hank cocked a shotgun. She reached toward him and felt his wrinkled fingers meet hers and give her hand a squeeze. Seconds later, Micah did the same. The moment was full of silent understanding between the three of them. Protect our home, protect each other, no one gets left behind.

****************

More cans sang in the distance and Micah took the chance to cover the sound of their exit, sliding open the door and leading the way into the darkness. They had practiced day after endless day navigating the maze of shelves in the dark, memorizing each can-trap location, turning the windowless darkness of their fortress into their greatest asset.

He felt Bonnie brush by him as she climbed through the door, followed by his dad who stopped when the two were so close their faces almost touched. "Mike..." He began, his voice betraying the guilt in his eyes that was disguised by the darkness.

"I know." Micah cut him off. He hesitated, wanting to say so much more, and instead pulled his dad in for a hug before disappearing into the darkness.

He couldn't help his father's guilt. He could barely help his own--for what had happened, for not telling Bonnie, but most of all for Devon. He had been the first to find the body. Dev and Kate were barely 17, with the same thin frame and whispy blonde hair. He'd looked like little more than a scarecrow when Micah had spotted him in the parking lot, hog tied and draped over a cart. He reached the body just as the others were running outside to help. Dev had been dead at least long enough to turn. His body was riddled with stab wounds everywhere but his skull, and the reanimated face lunged hungrily when it saw Micah, however its efforts were in vain as its tongue dangled in the empty air where a bottom jaw used to be. Around his neck was a torn scrap of cardboard with a single word scrawled across it in what could only be blood. Micah snatched the sign and hid it in his pocket just as Bonnie, Julio, and Maria reached him. Maria had buried her face in her husband's chest and wept, her dainty brown arms curled protectively around her swollen tummy. Bonnie had stared, wide-eyed like a deer who hears the hunters footstep but hasn't quite decided to run. Their eyes had met and in her emerald gaze he could hear her accusation, /you said we would be safe with you./

He and Julio buried Dev under an overgrown shade tree after solemnly putting the walker down. It was marked by a hastily crafted cross they pressed into the freshly turned dirt and crowned by the ragged beanie he usually wore.

When they were done and Maria and Bonnie were trying to console Kate, Micah pulled Julio and Hank aside and showed them the message.

"Murderer!?" His father had hissed. "This is because of me. This is all..." His shock had crumbled into despair, "I'm so sorry."

Julio and Maria left that night while they slept. Micah had been on watch but he didn't stop them. He just locked the door behind them. Hank never asked like Bonnie did. Julio and his wife had been there at the beginning. They had protested when things first started getting bad and Hank shut all the security gates and stopped letting survivors in. But as the screams from outside turned from pleas for help to threats, their protests had died out. They remained silent when a mob had amassed outside and the group voted on the best way to ensure their own survival. But Micah had seen the way they held each other when Hank turned on the generator for the last time, and how they stared into the other's eyes as peppy instrumental songs began playing over the loudspeakers, cranked at full volume. At first, the mob outside was inaudible over the roar of the music, but as a small horde of fresh undead began to shamble in from the surrounding buildings, drawn to the sound, their screams were louder than any speaker. When there were no more cries of terror and agony to be heard, Hank shut off the generators. Micah remember how the silence that followed penetrated and devoured everything, stretching through the week as they constructed their home and secured it. When they had finally emerged only a few walkers remained, shambling aimlessly. The walls and pavement were washed in dried blood and unidentifiable bits of flesh. Half their group had left that day, but Julio and Maria had stayed. Maybe they felt it was their fault too. Maybe they were just too afraid of what was out there. At any rate, Dev's death had been a clear sign that someone knew where they were, what they had done, and wanted vengeance. The morning after they left, Bonnie was devastated. She railed at them for being stupid, sobbed with worry for Maria and the baby, but to her credit she didn't once suspect that Micah and Hank were hiding the reason why. They told her it had to be bandits that wanted their supplies and that Dev had been a warning to get out or prepare for a fight. It had hurt him more than he could say to hide it from her, and now she and her kid were in danger because of them and she didn't even know why.

Micah had spent every moment since that morning preparing for this, developing plans and traps and training routines. Some days he woke and couldn't remember a time before this. On those days he wouldn't get out of his sleeping bag until he could remember the names of at least 3 of their employees at the store. If he was honest with himself, he knew he feared crossing the line between surviving and becoming a part of this monstrous new world, if they hadn't already after what they did that night.

Every muscle in his body was tensed as he crept through the aisles behind Bonnie, methodically checking the rows closest to them before branching out. As they neared the center of the store, Micah grabbed Bonnie's arm and pulled her down into a crouch with him.

"Listen!" He whispered, straining to place the rumbling he heard outside. It grew louder and seemed to come from multiple directions. Micah crept towards the closest exit, peering at the metal security gate separating them from whatever was coming. A piercing, repetitive beeping sounded that he couldn't quite place, but it ended almost as soon as it began. He heard the distinct clatter of metal on concrete as the chains securing the gates were apparently cut. Micah signaled for Bonnie to stay close as he took aim at the door from behind a shelf. The building grew still and silence crept back in for a brief eternity before it was violently shattered by the screeching of all the security gates opening at once. Micah frantically searched for his first target but instead of intruders he found himself staring at another metal wall, this one with a handle facing into the building. He inched closer, aiming at the edges of their gate where he could see the faint crack of daylight. Suddenly the beeping sound clicked; it was a truck in reverse.

"Bonnie!" He shouted as the realization hit him, forgetting all semblance of stealth and pulling her to her feet. Before he could explain, an electric hum filled the room accompanied by a crackle that made his blood run cold. As the music began to play, the gate on the truck slid open and a swarm of walkers began stumbling through. Micah raised his gun and shot the closest walker between its milky eyes. He took Bonnie by the hand and began running back the way they came, constantly altering their path as they came face to face with the undead around every corner. As they reached the door, Hank and Micah shot as many as they could until they were safely inside, where Bonnie slammed the barricade into place.

Micah met his father's pained gaze briefly, before the banging of the dead against their door pulled them back into the moment. "We have to go," he said, crossing the room to light the lamp.

"You're not really going to leave are you?" Came a snide, unfamiliar voice, "And after you made it so clear to everyone else that this was your little paradise?"

The three of them snapped around toward the voice where two figures, their faces hidden under the shadow cast by the hoods of their sweatshirts. One of them held Kate's arm behind her back with her own pistol pressed into her jaw. The other, the owner of the voice, was seated casually on one of the safes with Clara in his arms, trembling but quiet as always.

Bonnie lunged for her daughter, but froze as the speaker shook his head and wiggled a knife he'd had concealed before so that it danced in the light of the lantern.

"Now," he hummed,"Where should we start?"

***************

((Really looking to see if anyone would be interested in reading a continuation of this. It was more of a practice exercise and I definitely see the flaws, but I'm a sucker for zombie survival and would definitely enjoy developing these characters' relationships))