Deadly Dusk

As he opened his eyes, all he could think about was the intense ringing that pierced his inner ear. Trying to catch his bearings, he slowly looked up to see the cloth ceiling of the car that he lay in. Suddenly he realized that he was upside down, and it all came back to him; the spikes in the street, the screeching of the tires, the thud of his head bashing the steering wheel... he was stuck. The ringing started to dissipate, and he began to hear something much more sinister: the haunting moans and violent clanging of the zombies hitting the windows. He now knew the situation he was in, and began plotting his escape. He searched his person for any weapons that he could use and felt the cold steel of his 44 magnum pistol which was holstered on his left side.

He let out a sigh of relief and opened the revolver to see that it had 4 bullets remaining. The driver’s side window was occupied by the ugly face of an older female zombie, white hair plagued her scalp, lacerations marked the bags under her eyes. He pointed the magnum right on her temple and squeezed the trigger with fierce pressure. The glass shattered to pieces and completely covered his body. A jolt of energy pulsed through his veins as he knew it was time for him to make his escape, and he leaped through the now windowless door pushing his way through two other zombies that were behind the older female. After he pushed them he felt a sharp stinging pain in his lower abdomen and saw a giant gash wound that was damp with blood. Despite his efforts to push the zombies, they both latched onto his shoulders, clawing at the cotton of his green and black flannel. He was forced to empty two more bullets into their skulls.

“Gotta make sure it goes through their brain,” he exclaimed to himself as he continued sprinting towards a house off in the distance. As he continued his short journey towards the safe haven he heard the subtle trample of footsteps behind him, and knew that he was being followed by the undead, which only made him run faster. He came to an abrupt halt after seeing a large brown puddle of mud and muck between himself and the other side of the dirt road. In a hurry, he waded through the thick sludge, and came across a crawler. Its flesh was gooey, like something you would see in a horror movie. He lifted one foot out of the mud and dug it into the head of the zombie with a strong UMPH! Finally reaching the other side of the oozing dirt and soil, he looked behind him and saw there were several zombies closely following him brainlessly through the mire. He became so focused on the zombies that were behind him that he forgot to look in front, and suddenly was met with a hard THUNK! He became entangled in the bear hug of another zombie that was at the foot of the steps leading up to the house. He felt the corpses' cold fingernails begin to dig into his back, and quickly the lengthy barrel of his magnum met the underside of the zombie's chin. Heavily exhausted, he crawled up the few steps that lead to the front door of the safe haven, and wasted no time barreling through the door.

With haste he began barricading the door with nearby furniture; desks, chairs, even the lamps that were in the living room. Once he fortified the front entrance, he caught his breath while looking around at the environment of the home and realized that this was recently occupied by someone else. Wooden planks were properly nailed into every window of the home, the back door was barricaded with a sofa and some chairs, and two rusted cans of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle lay on the kitchen floor. He’d begun to realize that zombies were closing in on him when he heard the ominous THUD! Against the windows and doors. He began breathing heavily, his heart thumping out of his chest. The dull golden sheen of the suns’ rays seeped through the spaces between the wooden planks, and then he could see the distinct shadow of a hand oscillating up and down, scraping against the window. “Oh God, this is it, I’m gonna die! I’m gonna be trapped!”

His magnum empty, he decided to scavenge the house for any weapons that would prove useful against the undead. He walked through the house looking for the master bedroom, thinking that he would find the most useful resources there. As he opened the door into the room, he was shocked to see that the bed was in pristine shape, sheets and all. The paint of the four walls was off-white and chipped, the crimson wool carpet beneath his boots was frayed on the tassels. The door to the bathroom was ajar, and he could see his rotting reflection. The green flannel he wore was now a light brown after the blood of the undead splattered on it. A drop of sweat trickled down from his forehead to his upper lip; he could taste the salt. Lost in his mirrored-self, he became spooked when a zombie had pounded against the bedroom window and let out a shrieking YOWWWWW! He began to think, “alright where would the weapons be in a picture-perfect room like this?” To the left of the bedroom door he saw another closed door; it was a walk-in closet. A frown plagued his face as he saw the closet was completely vacant. The only thing that remained were some suitcases and an old moldy book titled “The Way We Think by Sir James Phillip III.” He turned around quickly and scanned the room for any other nooks and crannies he could search, and saw a bedside table in the very right corner of the room. “Please, if there is anyone good up there, please let there be something useful in here,” he pleaded. With a shaky hand he pulled the drawer open and saw a silk pouch inside. He inspected the pouch and out dropped a silver chain necklace with a gold locket attached to it. The locket was in the shape of a heart, and had a photo of a mother and daughter in it. They stood in a wheat field while the sun kissed their pale white skin. Their beautiful stature was only equaled by the stunning landscape behind them.

Just then, space and time seemed to stand still. The echoes of moans from the undead became silent, the golden rays of sun seeping through the wood became gray, and he became lost in the train of thought.

“Daddy I had a nightmare, can I sleep with you?” she murmured to him.

“Yes honey, of course you can. Come here,” he said, “one, two, three!” he exclaimed as he picked her up from the ground, letting out a chuckle.

“I love you daddy. Night night”

“Goodnight honey.”

He wrapped his arm around her as she clenched him tightly, knowing that she was safe from the monsters now.

Memories began flooding in. Preparing waffles and pancakes on Sunday morning while she watched Blue’s Clues, full of laughter and innocence. Driving her to school on her first day of kindergarten, making sure she had all of her supplies and that her backpack was zipped just right. Teaching her how to ride her first bicycle, making sure the training wheels were on tight. He’d only wished he could see her one more time, just to know that she was okay. And then, abruptly, all at once, reality sunk back in, hitting him like a wrecking ball. Once again the soul-stirring resonance of moaning slowly peered into his ears, and his evocative utopian hallucination concluded. He placed the locket back inside the soft silk pouch in which he found it, and stored it in his back pocket in hopes that it would bring his girl back to him someday. He searched under the perfectly made bed and saw a rusty toolbox full of various handyman objects. He felt like a kid in a candy store as he relished his indecision of what object to use. He grabbed the pipe wrench and walked out of the bedroom towards the front door, clenching the steel of his new trusty steed. He let out a deep sigh and said, “well, here we go again.”