Fear of the Dead Read Free Page A

how many times I pulled the trigger, all that came out was a thin mechanical click.
    The sound reminded me of Tom’s clacking keyboard, so I stopped. I dropped the gun on the floor, and finally, I stepped outside the basement of my step parents’ home.
    The air was different here. Warmer. It was sunny outside. I peeked through the blinds and what I saw what looked to be a normal day. Green lawn, adjacent houses, pavement, and a shining blue sky.
    There was no one outside. The streets were empty. Sunny Lane was a ghost town.
    I wanted to go outside and check, but a broken window in the kitchen stopped me.
    It dawned on me that with the windows closed and the doors locked, that must have been how the infected got in. Maybe they heard the gunfire. Maybe they heard it when I tried to open the door.
    Either way, the realization hit me all the same.
    It wasn’t, it isn’t safe.
    It’s been four months since the evacuation. Things have only gotten worse. As much as I want to go outside and see the neighborhood, I’ve been too afraid of what I might find. There might be more of them out there, waiting for me to come out.
    Did I want to take that chance? Do I want to now?
    I want to believe the blue sunny skies I see outside my window. I want to believe the rustling trees. I want to believe that everything’s fine. And yet I can’t bring myself to take the first step forward.
    It’s been two hours since I killed my husband. In that time I’ve locked myself upstairs in my step parents’ bedroom, keeping nothing with me but an empty notebook and a pen. I’m writing because it’s all I can think to do. With no one here to talk to, all I can do is jot down my thoughts, and hope that someone reads this. I don’t know if anyone will.
    But that’s what people do I suppose. They share their thoughts with the world. In times good, and in times bad. We like to be remembered. And we don’t care by who.
    Daylight is disappearing fast. The light from the blinds is fading, and the room is getting darker. Once night falls, I’ll have to stay inside where it’s safe. There’s no sense going anywhere else. Not now.
    When it’s time to go outside I’ll pack my things, take the car, and drive as far away from this place as I can.
    Eventually.

Chapter Two
     
    Day Two
     
    Monday
    April 21, 2003
     
    6:53 AM
     
    It’s been almost two hours since daylight. The view outside the window hasn’t changed. The streets are just as empty as they were yesterday. Aside from the occasional breeze, not so much as a peep.
    I didn’t sleep last night or the night before. I’ve kept myself from trying, forcing myself to stay awake. It hasn’t been easy, but I guess you could say that the fear of seeing them has only helped.
    What the hell am I saying? It’s only reason I’m even up.
    My mind’s been blank since I locked myself in the bedroom. I haven’t been able to think of anything but the infected. I haven’t said a word to myself or made a noise, not that I’m normally predisposed to talking to myself. Not aloud anyhow.
    The infected have sensitive ears, or so they say. Said. It’s been four months since I’ve seen anything about it on TV. I don’t know if anything’s changed since then. By this point they must have learned more about them. What makes them tick, why they do what they do. Maybe they’ve found a cure. Or maybe they’re working on it.
    Stop. Wandering isn’t going to help. Get back to the matter at hand.
    Earlier I went downstairs to grab some breakfast. I checked the fridge in the kitchen, which reeked of spoiled food. Four months inside a refrigerator with no power.
    Figures.
    The only place I can go for food is back inside the bunker. There’s canned food in the storage. Enough to last me a while. But I can’t go back there. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t set foot down there again. I don’t even want to think about.
    It really is my fault that he’s dead. There’s no denying it, and I don’t even