The Rising: Selected Scenes From the End of the World Read Free Page B

was pitch black. Her aching legs and arms were all scrunched up. She sat up quickly and banged her head.
    “Ouch!”
    Lying back down, she rubbed her head and waited. She remembered now. She was inside a trunk. She’d hidden inside it when the naked man and the woman opened the basement door. She’d heard them break down the front door, heard them calling out. Their voices were weird—cold and growly, and they stank like poop. Even hiding down here in the basement, she could smell them.
    * * *
    Allison had waited for Shannon to come back, but she hadn’t. She wondered what had happened to her sister, and tried very hard not to cry. Everybody was gone now. All her family. They probably weren’t coming back. Something bad had happened. And now she was alone in the dark. The zombies (because she knew what they were—she may have been six, but she wasn’t stupid—she knew what zombies looked like) had crashed around upstairs for a long time, before coming down into the basement. Allison had scampered inside the empty trunk and shut the lid just in time. She remained there in the darkness, holding her breath and trying not to move or scream, while they searched the basement.
    “I don’t see any life glows ,” the naked man said.
    “Maybe the house is deserted.”
    “There’s a half-full bottle of water,” the woman growled.
    “So?”
    Allison shut her eyes tight. She’d left her water sitting on top of a box.
    “Someone was drinking it,” the woman said.
    “Where are they now?”
    “I don’t know, but they aren’t here. Let’s check the house across the street, the one with the gardens. Maybe we’ll have better luck there.”
    And then they were gone. Allison lay there shivering, afraid to come out. She must have fallen asleep after that. She wondered how long it had been. Could they still be out there? Maybe the zombies were playing a trick on her. Maybe they’d known she was hiding in the trunk, and they were upstairs waiting. Allison squeezed her legs together. She had to go to the bathroom—really, really bad. And she couldn’t stay inside this trunk much longer, either. It smelled like mothballs. She listened carefully, but the only sound she heard was her own breathing. Her parents had always called Allison their “little spitfire,” and while she wasn’t sure what it meant, she understood what it implied. It meant not being afraid.
    So she did her best to be brave.
    Slowly, carefully, Allison opened the lid and peeked out through the crack. The basement was empty.
    She climbed out of the trunk and collapsed to the floor. Her legs felt rubbery and weak. She lay there panting, until they felt better. Then she climbed the stairs, put her ear to the door, and listened. The house was quiet.
    “Shannon…” Allison bit her lip and tried not to cry.There were no zombies in the living room or kitchen. Allison glanced out the window into the backyard, and shuddered, remembering what they’d seen last night. Then something occurred to her. It was daylight outside. When they’d first seen the zombies, it had been getting dark. Now it was morning again, which meant she’d slept all night inside the trunk.
    Allison began to get a bad feeling inside—her parents were never coming home, and the zombies had eaten her sister. She pushed the tears away, trying to be a spitfire, trying to be brave, the way they’d want her to. She wondered what to do next. Should she call 911? Go next door to the neighbor’s house? Or just wait? What if the zombies came back?
    While she was trying to decide, she heard a noise from upstairs—a soft, muffled thump.
    Allison froze.
    The sound was repeated, louder this time. Before she could move, she heard the hiss of a closet door sliding back on its track. Allison couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like it was coming from her and Shannon’s bedroom.
    She tried to call out, but her mouth was dry, and she could only