It was an early spring morning, yet the day carried none of the wondrous joys of springtime.
A misty, dark sky had blanketed Huddeen, casting out the now rising sun. One might've considered it eerie. Desolate, even. To the superstitious, however, the fog was a warning sign.
Last night, a deafening crash was heard deep within the town's center, interrupting the mindless groans and grunts that now acted as a chorus to the quiet and empty Huddeen. What, or who, for that matter, it was, was still a mystery to those of Mulberry Street, for going outside at night was too dangerous and risky an option. Regardless, one thing was certain: the noise had certainly riled up the undead from their slumber.
Thankfully for the denizens of Mulberry Street, their street seemed to be clear and safe for the time being. There were a few stragglers that could be seen some ways further down each end of the road, but otherwise Mulberry Street had succeeded in surviving another night safe and zombie-free.
But for how much longer could this apocalyptic serenity last? And what was that noise earlier? Only time, and a potential life-risking expedition, could tell.
Blake Holloway laid on his bed, counting each individual groove on the bedroom ceiling in silence.
Since his wife had passed just prior to the apocalypse to cancer, moments like these had become part of his morning ritual. It was as if he had been frozen in a catatonic state, unable to move from where he laid. On most days, at least prior to the apocalypse, the alarm clock would endlessly buzz until the older two of his daughter came by to wake up their father and get him out of bed. What was once a proud, confident man was now broken and in shambles, marching only forward each day for his daughters—and even that was often a challenge for him.
A knock on the bedroom door. Blake tilted his head towards the noise, before eventually sitting upwards in the bed as his eldest entered the room to wake her father.
"It's time to get up."
Blake didn't offer a response, instead climbing out of bed without a word. He shuffled towards the bathroom, while his daughter went back downstairs, presumably to watch over her younger sister.
Shutting the door behind him, Blake readied himself a shower. He deliberately set the temperature on cold, letting the freezing water rush over his hair. It made him feel alive. That he wasn't just a hollow, discarded husk of a man. But most of all, it awoke something deep within him—an emotion he hadn't regularly felt in years.
For the first time since the birth of his youngest, he cried.
Location:Kitchen, Holloway Residence
TimeframeEarly Morning
Interaction(s):None
Previously:N/A
"It's time to get up."
Holly sighed as her father stumbled out of bed. She wasn't a stranger to his pain; just as he lost a wife, she and her sister both lost their mother. Deep down, though, Holly knew that their family couldn't keep going on like this, least they lose their father, too. She couldn't keep being the responsible parent of the house, especially now in a time like this. It hadn't been her father comforting her younger sister when the town seemed to explode last night, nor was it him ensuring that the three of them still had food to eat. No, it had all been Holly—a simple high school girl woefully unprepared to fill shoes too big for her.
The stress was getting to Holly, and it was certainly only going to get worse. There wasn't much more she could take.
Heading down the stairs to the kitchen, Holly took a seat at the dining table next to her sister, Morgan. She smiled, trying to think of something to talk about that didn't relate to their current situation. As much as Morgan needed to know for her own safety, Holly dreaded telling her that the world was no more. That there were man-hungry zombies roaming everywhere in their hometown and beyond, eager to eat them alive.
They were things you just couldn't tell a five year old kid, Holly felt. It was better to shelter Morgan as best as she could from the outside world, not scare her to death with reality. She hardly understood why their mother was gone, what hope did Holly have to tell her the truth here?
"Mr. Fluffykins says thank you," Morgan broke the silence, pretending that her stuffed cat was eating a plate of instant mix pancakes. "Ohm-nom-nom-nom!" She continued, making fake "cat-eating-a-pancake" noises.
"Well, Mr. Fluffykins better eat it all. I worked very hard to make those pancakes, you know."
"But—"
"No butsies." Holly got up from the table, and opened the kitchen fridge. She pulled out a cannister of whipped cream, and gave it a slight shake. "Or else he won't get the last bit of whipped cream with them."
"F-Fine..."
"I thought that would get him to eat." Holly replied, smiling once more.
Having been up since early that morning, Delaney leaned against the kitchen counter as she waited for her coffee to finish brewing. Her hair was wet from an earlier shower and just hung in wet strands past her shoulders. It was a miracle she could even still shower at this point. Or the fact that she had yet to run out of coffee. Which, in fact, would be the true beginning of the end for the woman. She could barely function without the bitter brew.
Her eyes ran over her meek kitchenette set. A small, white round dining table sat in the back of the room, two wooden chairs pulled up to the edge. She didn't understand why she needed two chairs anymore. The woman barely had any visitors, especially as of late. The thoughts snapped her out of her daze and she shook her head. "The apocalypse is literally outside my door and I'm worried about an unused chair..."
Quiet beeping alerted her that her mug of Joe was complete. Grabbing an almost empty carton of soy milk from the fridge, she added just a dash to the bright yellow mug before returning it. Delaney wrapped both hands around the cup as she brought it to her lips. She closed her eyes as she savored the sip, allowing her mind to completely settle. It was soon disturbed by the sound of pawprints running into the room.
Her eyes opened as she smiled down at her beloved pet. "Hey, buddy. Ready to go to the clinic?"
The pup barked gently in response, his tail wagging behind him.
With a small laugh, she nodded. "Alright, alright. I still have to get dressed."
Delaney finished her cup of caffeine before heading upstairs to her room. She decided on a pair of beloved jeans and a basic black tee shirt. It was her establishment, and she was determined to always be comfortable. Besides, it was easier to run in than a dress and heels. Grabbing a pair of white sneakers to finish the look, she tied the laces and pulled her hair up into a high bun atop her head. She then went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and apply just enough makeup to cover the bags under her eyes.
Once completed, she grabbed Weasley's leash and her keys before heading back to her front entryway. Delaney secured the leash to his collar, took a deep breath, and headed onto her front steps. She took a hesitant look around before locking her front door behind her. Gripping her dog's leash, she headed off to her clinic, her eyes peeled open for anything out of the ordinary.
One of the many things the end of the world as they knew it changed for Carlos was the wake up alarm. More specifically, it gave it its second lease on life. After a decade of retirement and getting up whenever he felt like it, it was taking time to get used to the phone nagging at him as early as seven in the morning. But responsibilities waited and couldn’t be ignored by anyone of sound morals, as by now his guests-turned-companions had been going hungry for five and ten hours respectively.
Getting himself out of bed and dressed, he started making his way to the kitchen when he heard something fall in the garage. Freezing on the spot, he shifted his grip on his cane and faced the door. ”Carson?” ”Yes, mr. Valero?” Came a slightly delayed reply from within. ”Nevermind.” Carlos breathed a sigh of relief, ”Breakfast in half an hour.” ”Okay, thank you.” The youngster had been spending a lot of time in the garage, having removed the alternator and some other components from Mr. Valero’s 2011 Sienna minivan to build a manual generator for when they’d eventually lose power, in two weeks at most in the young electrical engineer’s semi-qualified opinion.
Carlos entered his kingdom, the kitchen, and peered at the list of remaining supplies. Selecting a good mix of the freshest things available, keeping anything canned or otherwise long-lasting for later, he got to work, wondering how long until gas stopped working too and force them to cook outside over an open fire. He loved cooking outside, by choice in the warm summer months, but now the thought was not at all appealing to him.
A L E N A S O K O L O V Á
Location:Valero House
TimeframeEarly morning
Interaction(s):None
Previously:N/A
The clock on her phone showed 06:41. At long last, another night, another watch was coming to an end. During the two o’clock changeover, Carson reported a loud noise coming from somewhere in the town, though sadly he’d been understandably too startled by the sudden sound to figure out a direction. ”Damn near pissed myself.” She recalled his exact words with a chuckle as she stretched in her rooftop nest and snuggled up more tightly into the ‘watch coat’, a long coat that belonged to Mr. Valero, to keep the cold at bay. Summer couldn’t come soon enough.
The watchkeeping schedule was established the day after the undead first appeared in Huddeen, as neither of the three occupants of the blue house close to the edge of Mulberry street could sleep knowing what was outside. Mr. Valero had a shortened first watch on account of his age between six and eight, Carson took over until two, then it was her turn until seven. The night had at least been calm, save for the mysterious bang that wasn’t her problem as far as she was concerned.
With the clock striking 07:00, she unplugged her phone from the powerbank and made sure the solar panel she usually carried attached to her backpack on multi-day hunting trips was secured to the South-facing roof to recharge it during the day, grabbed her hunting crossbow and started making her way off the roof, driven by the vision of a breakfast.
C A R S O N H A C K E T T
Location:Valero House
TimeframeEarly morning
Interaction(s):None
Previously:N/A
Thirty minutes was more than enough time to finish everything he could do with what he had available to him. After days of labor, he’d hit a wall in the form of a lack of a soldering iron and some components. He should’ve seen that coming. Now, had they been in a civilized place, he’d just run to the closest home improvement store, but that was a few miles away. Having washed the grime off his hands, Carson made his way into the kitchen to ask Mr. Valero if he needed any help, getting the expected negative answer. The old man enjoyed his cooking, so Carson left him to it and took to setting the table. It looked like poached eggs with toast and tea today.
The door opened and a voice spoke in accented English, heralding the arrival of the third party member. ”Good morning.” She greeted the room and sat down with her back against a radiator. Good to enjoy those while they lasted, though fortunately the house had a wood burning stove. ”So, any guesses as to what the crash was? Burst pipe, collapsing building…?” Alena asked. ”No, nothing like that. Maybe someone drove out here, thinking there wouldn’t be that many zombies here and crashed?” Carson put forward his theory, having had time to think about it. They were joined by Carlos, who passed their food around. After breakfast, they held their daily briefing, summarizing their watches with the fortunately usual ‘nothing to report’ report, with the exception of the crash and the resulting increased undead activity, but none had come close to the house. The food situation was a bit more pressing. They still had canned and pickled supplies, but they had worked through the meat and dairy supplies quickly, just in case Carson’s guesstimate of power cutout was wrong, and this breakfast was the last of their eggs and the start of their last loaf of bread. The situation, until now manageable, was thrown into disarray by the bang, as all three agreed that going out to hunt now would’ve been a bad idea, giving rise to a mostly solid plan of luring prey to them since they couldn’t go out to find it. Once again, like many times in the past two weeks, Alena had to kick herself for being too cheap to buy her own NODs instead of borrowing her father’s whenever going night hunting and too lazy to bother with all the paperwork required to bring her EDC gun onto the flight.
Light was just starting to come through the small window of the back bedroom of the basement when the sound of mechanical bells made itself known. Harry Kimura rolled over in bed, his right hand struggling to find where he had placed his phone on the nightstand. Once it was found, the alarm was immediately shut off, Harry groaning as he forced himself up and out of the covers. His eyes were still unfocused in the early state of awakening, his head also spinning a little as he placed his feet on the floor. Glancing at his nightstand, Harry was reminded why he had slept so badly.
Sitting there was a hardcover copy of Even Angels Cry by Jacqueline Nord, one of Harry’s late mother’s most celebrated novels. The beast of a book was not new reading for Harry, as he had definitely read his parents stories before. But back during his moody teenage days he wasn’t able to fully enjoy the books. He was too busy trying to forge his own path, and not just be the son of two popular authors. But ever since he returned to town four months ago, Harry couldn’t help but feel nostalgic about his life here in Huddeen. That included his parents’ writings, which he had been staying up to binge read each night ever since the whole zombie apocalypse started.
Thanks to trying, and failing, to finish the book in one night, Harry had only got two hours sleep before his alarm sounded. While he wished to ignore it, Harry knew he had obligations to his community, or at least his street as the rest of the community were probably eaten by now. But Harry pushed those dark thoughts from his mind as he rose to his feet and left the basement bedroom that had been his back when he lived here full time.
As he made his way up the wooden steps to the main level, Harry called out, “You up Kit?”
“Yeah, just going for my morning jog,” was the reply.
Harry then heard the front door close as he reached the main floor. Right next to the steps was the kitchen, a modestly sized one. Still feeling lethargic, Harry decided against making a proper breakfast. Instead he pulled out a box of corn flakes cereal and poured himself a bowl. As he crunched on the flakes, Harry went over what he had to do today. It was mostly inspecting the barricades that kept Mulberry Street defended, cataloging all the cars and machinery that the neighbors had and could still be of use.
Once done eating, Harry washed his few dishes before walking over to the bathroom. By now the undead were close enough to the street that their moans filtered into all nearby houses. The noise the creatures made Harry feel sick, so he felt that he really needed a hot shower. Once in said hot shower, Harry’s mind drifted back to his girlfriend and all the other people who were close to him in the big city. With what he had heard was going on in the city, Harry knew that there was a good chance that they were dead. But Harry pushed those musings away, trying his best to focus on the hear and now.
K I T A R O K I M U R A
Location:Small Bedroom, Kimura Residence
TimeframeEarly morning
Interaction(s):None
Previously:N/A
Kit Kimura had awoken several hours ago to the sound of what seemed to be an explosion coming from in town. It had jolted him out of his bed on the left side of the main floor, Kit stumbling to his feet. Wondering if this meant the military had arrived, Kit left his house and ran outside barefoot. Only to be greeted by nothing. Whatever made the noise hadn’t reached Mulberry Street, as only a handful of neighbors had even bothered to get up and see what was going on.
After a few minutes Kit returned to his home, still trying to figure out what was going on. He wanted to go see what it was, but there were strict rules about leaving the safe zone at night. Kit considered waking up his older brother, who had to be a very deep sleeper to not hear the clattering, but felt he shouldn’t bother him. He already had plenty to deal with as the head of the household and as one of the more educated survivors.
So Kit returned to his bed, but quickly found that he could not rest. Adrenaline pumped through his body as he lay there, staring at the plain white ceiling. Time seemed to pass both fast and slow paradoxically, and before Kit knew it, his phone let out an alarm of K-Pop music. Kit immediately got up and threw on some athletic clothes, before making his way over to the front door.
From the basement below, Kit could hear, “You up Kit?”
As he opened the front door, Kit replied, “Yeah, just going for my morning jog.”
That was technically the truth as Kit had incorporated a morning jog into his routine for several years now. It was one thing that he actually had learned at school, how to keep himself healthy, gym class ending with a much better grade than other classes. So Kit began to run along the side of the road, passing by the houses of other survivors. He even saw the local Doctor walking her dog. Kit had yet to learn her name as back when his parents were alive, they would take him to a doctor in the city.
After a decent amount of exercise, Kit reached his destination, the wall blocking off Mulberry Street from the rest of Huddeen. Yet, even from here, Kit couldn’t see what caused the noise in the middle of the night. That frustrated the young adult to no end. If there really was help coming, shouldn’t the people of Mulberry be looking for said help? Kit wanted to bound over the wall and investigate, but knew he was woefully under equipped. The most dangerous item in the Kimura Household was a baseball bat, as Kit’s parents didn’t believe in guns.
That and it would be breaking all kinds of rules. So the best Kit could do was try and form a search party. But that would require others signing off on doing this, and there was barely anyone around at this time in the morning. Kit decided to give it a few hours for others to get up, so he turned back around and slowly returned home. But the idea that this was an important thing to investigate was still nagging at the back of his mind.
Axel snipped off the white flower that had bloomed on his fathers' basil plant. While pretty, the white flower ensures the plant puts all its energy into the flower, and not into the tasteful but less pretty leaves. Axel scoffed a little at the irony of that as he stood up and put the flower in the basket that held other collected produce. He could still use it, though. This small garden at the Sweetlake home was a pride and joy of Axel's father, Paul, and Axel had promised to take care of it while he was off to visit a relative of theirs. Part of it was covered by a glass greenhouse, to grow the more sensitive fruit and vegetables. While expansive and diverse, this garden did not serve to supply the cafe and it would not serve to feed those around them right now. Just in case though, Axel had planted a little bit more than regular. And the beginnings of some zucchini already formed at the edge of the greenhouse.
The young cook entered the house from the back, closing the backdoor behind him and ensuring it was fully locked. A makeshift beam was lowered across the doorway and locked in place before he picked up his basket again and headed towards the kitchen. A myriad of things was going through Axel's head as he kneaded the dough he so carefully made for bread. He had been making some bread since early morning, as he could not sleep anymore after the loud crash in the middle of the night. Axel could swear the sounds of the undead outside had picked up a notch. So he spent the rest of the night keeping watch from his window.
That didn't do him much good though, as the lack of sleep and the uptick of stress was doing their work on his blood sugar. Axel blinked away the dry eyes as he continued kneading. A flashback played in his head, a zombie ripping into his sous-chef when they were at the market for fresh produce. The chaos. The blood. It played in his mind like a movie. He had not told Harper of the things he saw, or the thing he'd had to do, to get back here to her.
The smell of bread filled the kitchen, from the previous loaf that was in the oven. Axel could bless the gods for the fact that they still had electricity and water. Despite having an emergency generator, Axel wasn't so sure how long that would last them once they electricity cuts out and the water runs dry.
"No.." the young man said as he shook his head. He would not let doom scenarios in his head today. He needed to be strong, and he needed to provide.
Through the window, he saw Delaney, his nurse practitioner, walking past his house. He caught himself with a mouth corner up in a smile before it faltered because his brain reminded him why he knew her and that he'd probably needed to go see her soon. Ask for advice. Because, while his diabetes was manageable for now, he was..scared for the future.
Axel opened the oven and the smell of fresh bread filled the house.
Harper was sitting on the window seat in her room. The seat is situated below the gabled roof of her house. Her window, 2 stories above the garage, looks out over the street. From 1 story below, she could smell the fresh bread her brother was making. It made her stomach rumble but her mouth turn to a smile.
Harper was noting down a log. She decided to keep a log every since it happened. What day it is, what happened, etc. In a way, it helps to keep her distracted and gives her something to do. In the back of her mind, it's because they may not make it, and she wants her father to know that they tried.
"A very loud crash happened in the middle of the night. I don't know what it was, but it seems to have woken up the Zombs a bit more." She said out loud as she wrote. Another wave of the smell of bread, and a little bit of herbs, wafted up from below and another rumble cut the silence in her room. Harper was beyond grateful for her brother, and the first thing that came to his mind was to run back home to her. Confused, she kept the door locked as she tried to make sense of panicked tweets, group messages and calls. All she wanted was her brother. To know that he was safe. And she was worried about her friends, from school and her fellow servers. But all her worries fell as soon as she saw her brother burst through the front door. He looked.. he didn't look right, then. Harper didn't dare ask and hasn't since. She knows something is troubling him, that's for sure.
Harper put her notebook on the seat and stood to walk to her desk. There, she took a sip from her water bottle as her eyes roamed her the wooden furniture. Things that seemed so important a few weeks ago, were entirely unimportant now. Uni notebooks, itinerary, work schedule etc. On the left of her desk, her hearing aid lay dormant. She only has one more battery, so she was saving it until she needed it. Needed it more than now. She was thinking she should probably ask around if anyone has hearing aid batteries, maybe left behind from a grandparent or something.
Waterbottle in hand, Harper walked back up to her seat, looking out the window to the street again. She could see the Kimura's house in front of her. Holly's, Lee's, old Carlos's place and some more. She found herself checking all these houses every morning. Looking for signs that they're still there, that they are safe.
In front of her house, she caught a familiar bundle of hair on top of a familiar frame. "Kit.." she said to herself. An employee of their restaurant. Her across-the-street neighbour. Back from his morning jog, presumably. The way he walked seemed almost... frustrated, like when a customer was really rude. Her eyes quickly darted the streets, to check if he was not in danger. Then, not really thinking, Harper raised her hand to the glass and tapped it to get his attention.
In normal circumstances, she’d be in class, finishing up her senior year until June finally eclipsed Huddeen. Instead of being bored in her first class of the morning, however, she was stuck at home thinking. Her mother had gone out with her brother, to run some supplies to some families further away from the town center then they were. Because that’s what they were now. Survivors.
“Don’t go into town alone.” She muttered, throwing a baseball in the air as she sat on a bench outside, “Don’t get grabbed. No shit, Mom.”
She rolled her eyes as her hand swiped the ball out of the air.
She could be left alone at home, but she couldn’t go anywhere–especially not into town–by herself. A restriction her good old, totally always present, always reliable mother couldn’t really enforce but one Lee didn’t exactly have the moxie to challenge either. The warnings sounded eerily like the ones when she and a bunch of other kids went to the city for a concert. A small indie rock show. Though, this time the creepers were creepers. In stories like this, not that she read those kinds of stories, the mechanics and mythology of the monsters didn’t always make sense and sometimes they weren’t explained in the first place. At the end of the day, if she had to deal with a creep, she had a good softball bat at her feet if need be.
Creeps. Yeah, that was a name that could work. Felt less absurd than “zombie” or whatever. That’s what she’d call them.
“See one. Aim for the head.” She thought out loud as she threw the baseball up in the air again. “If they even come around.”
At least she wouldn’t have to deal with her mom teaching 12th Grade English & Literature again. Having your mom as one of your teachers sucked. Though, having her as a survivor might’ve been worse. Whatever. Not like she could do anything about it.
Kyle always wakes up early and before Tegan. This is normal to him, and she tends to sleep for a bit longer, until seven more or less. Along with his regular routine, getting, taking a quick shower, get dressed, turn on the t.v but keep it low, and make breakfast only while he did do this. Nothing seemed normal to him despite this, and it did not help that he forgot about t.v and instead of the news. It is just noise and static, and he quickly turned it off.
A deep sigh was his response as another reminder of the state the world is in despite the state of the neighborhood. Their piece of peace and normalcy. Which made him wonder if there are places like this out there in the world. He knows he will never know but, the thought of there being safe havens out there helps with things.
So after a tired moment of looking at the t.v, Kyle forced himself to finish his routine and make some breakfast. This is all he can do, really, try to keep that sense of normalcy going for as long as he can and not give in to despair. For a moment, as he reached the fridge and grabbed the handle, he stopped and stared. This is like something out of a comic he used to read, the dead rising up and the survivors trying to find a safe place for themselves. This part of Huddeen is safe but for how much... He stopped himself from finishing the thought, no just focus on making breakfast. He said to himself mentally, trying to keep himself focused and not think about what he dreads will happen. Just focus on the now, and that bridge will be dealt with when it happens. But, for now, breakfast.
So Kyle went about making breakfast, starting with waffles and letting the smell of his cooking fill the house. He may not feel like things are normal, but trying to while he still does help some and is better than nothing.
T E G A N R U T L E D G E
Location: Bedroom - Porch, Rutledge Residence
TimeframeEarly morning
Interaction(s):None
Previously:N/A
Tegan, by now, was just getting up, letting out a morning yawn, and lazily looking over at the nearby window. She can see the light coming through and despite still feeling tired. Tegan did a quick stretch before getting out of bed and getting herself ready for the day.
Walking to the living room and she could smell breakfast being made. Good thing I married someone who knows how to cook, she thought as she made her way to the kitchen since god knows how bad she is at making something edible for herself. Entering the kitchen with a warm smile and seeing that Kyle was busy at work. "Hello daring," she said with warmth in her voice.
Kyle answering without looking at her and with a semi-depressed tone. "Good morning."
Tegan stood for a moment with a concerned look on her face. "You doing okay, Kyle?" She knows how Kyle has been doing since the outbreak began, and today he seems more out of it than usual.
Kyle stopped what he was doing and turned around. While Leaning on the countertop with a blank face, "I am fine, Tegan. Just moving along like we are doing right now."
"Do you want to talk about it? You know I am here for you."Sounding sincere," Tegan walked closer to Kyle.
Kyle was about to put his hand out to stop her but had a second thought and relented. Letting her get close to him.
"This about that sound we heard last night?"
"No, no not that though we should talk about that at one point today. But how are you? You look a bit tired." Kyle trying to dodge the question.
"The sound last night did make things hard to go back to sleep, but I am fine now. Well, as you are okay, Kyle." Tegan went to hold his hands gently, "We are in this together, you know that, right?"
Kyle looking a bit relieved, "I know that, Tegan and I are not sure what I would do without you. I mean that, and I... I... I love you and thank you for everything, and I should go back to making breakfast before I burn something."
Tegan smiled and gave him a soft kiss on the lips."I love you too, and I am here when you need me." Then the two hugged for a moment, and Tegan started looking along the countertop at the coffee machine."I take it the coffee is ready?"
"Yeah, and it is just how you like it." Saying it with a bit more happiness in his voice.
"In that case, I will be on the porch if you need me." Tegan began pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee.
"Okay, and I will tell you when breakfast is ready" Kyle then went back to making breakfast while Tegan went outside and sat on the outdoor loveseat on the porch.
As Tegan drank her coffee, she watched the street and could see that some of her neighbors were out and about. She did not know any of them, really. She and Kyle have only been in the town a month and have not got a chance to get to know the people here. At least the ones still alive. Still, they have even more reason to talk and get to know them. They are all in this together now, even if they do not realize it yet.
Soon coming upon the small four room clinic, Delaney took a small glance around to make sure nothing out of the ordinary was going to sneak up on her. She took a shaky breath and put her key in the door. "See, Weasley? Just another day at the office. Just another normal day." Maybe if she spoke it into existence, it would actually be true. She didn't have high hopes.
She opened the door and turned on the lights before letting her precious pup off his leash. Delaney allowed the dog to have free roam of the clinic and so far, there had been no complaints from any of her patients. It served double duty, now. He alerted her to anything out of the ordinary and gave her ample time to hide.
Clearing her throat, she made her way to her small simple office and turned on the light. She made her way over to her desk and took a seat. Her eyes looked down at her schedule. "Empty again. Shocker." Of course, nobody in their right mind these days would schedule at the very least a checkup. Although she knew if this went on much longer, there would be a few people she would have to make house calls to. Even with the dangers lurking outside, she wouldn't risk anyone's health if she could help it.
Delaney leaned back in her chair and decided to update some patient files. As her fingers clicked away, memories started to flash in her mind of an event a couple weeks prior. Her fingers paused on the keyboard as her teeth sucked in her lower lip. A small blush worked its way up her neck and to her cheeks. The corners of her mouth pulled up into a cheesy grin.
"Aarf!"
She jumped at the noise and the expression on her face quickly vanished. Clearing her throat, she looked down at the dog and let out a shaky breath. Weasley was sitting beside her, wagging his tail. She could have sworn he had a grin on his face. Delaney eyed him. "Well. That was rude."
He answered with another happy bark. Shaking her head, she looked back at her computer. Her eyes caught sight of the patient file on her screen. It was the same person that was intruding her daydreams. Delaney groaned and sat back in her chair. "So much for a doctor-patient relationship." She then noticed the date of the last visit. Her brows furrowed with worry. Delaney would definitely have to pay this patient a home visit if they didn't visit her soon.
T H E S P A R L I N G S : G R O U P P L A Y T H R O U G H
W I N N I E S P A R L I N G
Location:Balcony, Sparling Home
TimeframeLate Evening
Interaction(s):Lila, Jason
Previously:N/A
There was a lot that Winnie had wanted to say, but she'd held herself back, lest the grownups in the room decided that she was, after all, a dear small child and not fit for the responsibility of keeping watch that she had so desperately desired. Their plan was... stupid. Everyone knew that you needed to start by raiding all the local stores and restaurants for food. Instead, they'd spent the whole week putting up strings of little bells and other jingly things all around the property and clearing their backyard of grass. They'd commandeered her to help plant the seeds Nonna Lucia had given them last year when she'd encouraged them to start a garden.
"We should be taking the car to one of the big towns and grabbing everything we can," she grumbled, and Lila twisted to glance up at her. It was almost 10:00 PM, and things were winding down. The lights of the Sparling home still blazed into the night. A gentle breeze still whispered through the trees and stirred the hundred bells and other bits of junk the older of the sisters had been putting up for the past few days. "You're not wrong, Win-win," she admitted, "But you're not right either."
Winnie scowled. "How is it a bad idea?" she demanded, finding herself a bit more genuinely annoyed than she should've been. "And if you tell me it's dANgEroUs one more time I'm gonna scream."
Lila blinked. "Well, then get your lungs ready, Lightning Bug, 'cause it is."
Winnie visibly rolled her eyes and Lila let out a sigh. One of the older two had started calling her that about six years ago - they disputed who should lay claim to the honour - and they had never stopped. "And no, it's not because there are... zombies."
"Yeah, I know. People are awful."
"Sorry." The elder sister shrugged awkwardly, and Winnie found her thoughts turning to The Last of Us - a game she'd played not a month ago after bingeing the whole HBO series when Jason had ditched her. They were supposed to have watched it together. "You really think it's gonna be like that?" Something tight and electric began to inflate at the top of her stomach and Lila looked over. She nodded. "Better if everyone on our street can stick together: more like Jackson, maybe." She swept some hair from her face.
"You watched it too?" the younger sister exclaimed with a start.
Lila rolled her eyes this time and it was Winnie who felt evaluated. "No. I just roll around all day playing violin and doing boring adult stuff."
"Sorry," the girl replied, letting out a little snort and smiling faintly. "Played the game too," her sister grumbled, but Winnie's hands clenched and unclenched, nails digging into their palms. This was real. It wasn't supposed to be possible. It wasn't supposed to actually happen, but it had. She could feel her heartbeat behind her ears. She looked out across town from the balcony. A week ago, she'd been going to school. Everything had been normal. Now, there were things out there that wanted to kill her: that would - that might kill Lila. Desperately, the preteen looked over at Lila, and the older of the two immediately released the brakes on her wheelchair and turned. A couple of gentle pushes brought her to Winnie, and her knees slid under and behind the girl's. A pair of strong arms did the rest.
"I don't need -"
"Shush, Buggie." She was on Lila's lap now, like some kid, and her big sister's arms were around her, their puffy jackets wheezing softly as they deflated in the embrace. "I love you, okay?"
Winnie didn't say anything, but she wrapped her arms around Lila's a little tighter and managed a slight nod.
"Don't worry," the older one joked, "I'm not mom. You don't need to say it back."
"Mhm."
"I won't shame you." There was a brief pause and Winnie wondered if, in fact, she was being shamed. "I won't guilt you..."
"Fffff. Shut up." She let out a sniff of laughter and glanced over her shoulder at a smiling Lila.
"Shut down," Lila pouted, and Winnie grinned.
She felt embarrassed just thinking it, but Winnie decided that she should tell Lila that she loved her, because she did, and there was danger, but then there was a noise behind them and they separated immediately, both whirling on the spot.
It was only Jason, coming onto the balcony to relieve Winnie for his turn on watch. "No group hug?" he taunted, and the girl grimaced. "Not for you," she managed to tease.
"So mean, Winster." Unbidden, he ruffled her hair, and she swatted at his arm. "I'm heartbroken." He turned to Lila. "You know she still holds it against me for not watching The Last of Us with her?"
The youngest of the three was about to say something, but her sister preempted her. "Well, we all get to watch it together now."
"Group playthrough?" Jason suggested darkly. The other two made appreciative faces. Then, silence began to fill the gaps between them and Winnie decided to put an end to it. Feeling unusually sentimental, she reached down and hugged - first - Lila, before reaching up to hug Jason. She separated and headed for the sliding door. She paused with it half open. "I...loveyouguys," she said quickly, glancing back at her older siblings before slipping inside and stalking off to bed.
J A S O N S P A R L I N G
Location:Balcony, Sparling Home
TimeframeNight
Interaction(s):Lila
Previously:N/A
"Never thought I'd see the day," remarked Jason.
Lila snorted. "She's that scared."
His eyes flicked her way concernedly and she caught them with hers. It was still a bit surreal, having Lila around again like this. For three years, she'd been little more than a Christmas and Easter relation: his big sis, his partner in crime, the person who'd always finished his sentences. She'd run away to New York and he was under no illusions that it was going to be a permanent thing, but now they'd spend the apocalypse together. "Heard anything from dad?" he asked, trying to shift into neutral.
Lila nodded, retrieving her iPhone from between her legs. "We talked for about twenty minutes. You?"
Jason nodded. "Same. He tell you anything? He never tells me anything."
Her gaze was evaluative, for a moment, and he wondered why. Then, she shrugged. "Just that he's still in Boston and it's hard to keep a consistent charge there, much less get a signal." Absently, she passed her phone from hand to hand. "We shouldn't come to him. It's bad outside the Quarantine and they're not letting anyone in. He'll come to us. It could take a few months." She glanced up, pulling a few strands of hair from her eyes as the wind stirred them. "That kinda stuff, and then some reminiscing. You know."
"He'll be okay." Jason wasn't sure why he said it. Maybe he really believed it. Maybe he just wanted to reassure Lila. If their dad couldn't make it back, then he'd go retrieve him. You just had to be smart with these kinds of things, and prepared. Everyone was working hard. They were setting themselves up well - the whole street in their own ways - especially now they were actually listening to him.
Lila sighed, reaching down to lock her wheels again. She met his eyes for a brief second, evaluative once more. "I dunno. God, I hope so." She shook her head and he noticed her fumble her phone, missing a grab with her left hand. She let it sink between her thighs. "It's just... I can hear it in his voice. I can literally feel it inside me: this fear that he won't." She swallowed. "That the phones will cut off and this could be the last time we ever speak to each other." She looked up at him and it was no secret that he was holding back tears. "Fuck, Jason..."
"Lila..." They regarded each other: grown siblings, for an eternal second before he turned away, to look out across the yard and the street and the signals they'd been rigging up. It had mostly been her. Aside from printing out, writing out, or memorizing every possible thing of even remote relevance while the internet was still up, it had been one of the few tasks she could do without help. He'd been the heavy labour, digging up the yard for planting when he hadn't been practicing with his weapons or trying to build useful things. There was no school anymore. There was no schedule except for these nightly watches now. No people except for those on Mulberry Street. At least Triple H - Holly, Hailee, and Harper - were alright, even if he wasn't equally close with each of them.
"So, how many pages you up to now?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Everything the printer has ink for," came the reply. "Good thing mom's got an office rig for her practice. We'd have gotten a fifth of what we did otherwise."
"You looked up gun stores?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Made a map too. Made a few maps of essentials. I'm writing whatever I couldn't print while I still remember it."
Jason smiled."Couldn't ask for a better end-of-the world buddy than you, Squeaky."
Lila smiled faintly back. "Mutual, Chop-chop. Just trying to be useful anyways. Gotta do something. Set you guys up for success."
There was something that he didn't like in her tone as she concluded, and it got to him like nothing else had over the past few days. "Don't," he warned, voice going serious.
"Don't what?"
Now she was being avoidant. "You're useful, Lila. You have an eidetic memory and you're the only person in this family who's like... competent and has their shit together. Even if you weren't, it's not like I'd just be like... 'peace out and good luck'." He rolled his eyes before they flicked in her direction.
"Debatable," she sighed, releasing her brakes to roll up to the railing. She turned at a forty-five degree angle and, as her right wheel clanked lightly against it, she twisted in her seat, rested her elbows atop it, and rested her chin atop them. She turned her head his way for a second. "I know." it came out with her breath, barely audible. "I could be." Her cheek was resting on her folded arms now. "I should be." She blinked and looked at him sadly. "Brother..."
He bit his lower lip and forced himself to listen, knowing what would be said, or at least some version of it.
"Half of me doesn't work." She gave him something like a shrug. The lights inside the house were all off by now, except for Winnie's, and only the moon and the stars lit her face. "Not just my legs." She pushed herself up from the railing and stared out across their property and surroundings. "I'll be good for a few years," she admitted hopefully.
"More than -"
"But what happens when my wheelchair breaks?"
"We fix it," he assured her, or find you another, or fucking carry you if I have to."
"Come on, dude," she replied. "You're not a videogame character. I'm not a mission. Besides, how about when the catheters run out and we've cleaned out every pharmacy and hospital within a fifty-mile radius?"
He grimaced, but she continued, "Or the pill salad? What happens when I get some infection in a few years?" She regarded him, face soft and sad and merciless. "I will not have anyone die just so I can keep existing, helpless and bedridden, and I mean it."
"So you're just giving up?" Jason retorted, narrowing his eyes. "That's not very -"
"No, dumbass." She snorted defiantly at something in the distance before twisting to regard him. "I'll squeeze every ounce I can outta life. Don't worry. It's me you're talking to here."
Why was she dropping this on him? Jason didn't know. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to because he knew, on some level, that it was true. People would die - millions already had - but not the people close to him, and not on his watch. The teenager's heart beat a little faster. That was not something he was prepared for.
"Just..." Lila exhaled and most of whatever she'd had pent up inside of her seemed to go with it. "When I go, I go, and you've gotta let it happen." She managed a weak kind of smile. "Or I'll kick you in the fuckin' nuts, alright?"
He understood, now, that the embrace between her and Winnie that his arrival had broken up had been as much for Lila as it had for little Buggie. Silently, he reached down and did the same, lifting her halfway out of her wheelchair. "You can do it anytime," he promised her. "I love you, sis."
"I love you too, bro." Her embrace was tight, and the fact that he found himself surprised by the strength of it served as a reminder of how few times they'd hugged over the past couple years. "Now, put me down, and don't you breathe a word of this to anyone, capisce?"
He nodded.
"We're all smiles in the morning. We need everyone at their best."
"We do," he agreed, letting her down. "No mopey shit." Lila took a moment to adjust her position. A thought came to Jason, then. "Group playthrough?"
His big sister grinned. "Group playthrough."
W A T C H S C H E D U L E
Watch Kept from 7pm - 7am Winnie: 7:00 PM - 10:00 PM Lila: 8:30 PM - 11:30 PM Jason: 10:00 PM - 1:00 AM Carina: 1:00 AM - 4:00 AM Alana: 4:00 AM - 7:00 AM
S P A R L I N G H E X C O D E S
"Welcome to the voice of reason with Alana!."
"Minty fresh fish with cheese, courtesy of Devon."
Holly knelt in front of the kitchen cabinets, turning the corner cabinet turnstile around and around in dismay. By now, Morgan had wandered off to the open concept's living room, clearly more interested in playing with her plastic tea set than bothering Holly with questions as to what she was doing. Holly preferred it that way; she didn't want to Morgan to know that they were almost down to scraps. Whether or not Morgan actually knew what that meant was another question, but Holly didn't want to put that kind of pressure on her tiny shoulders. Like everything else that had happened in the last few weeks, it wasn't fair to her. Then again, it hadn't been exactly fair to any of them, either.
She sighed, cursing herself for not going shopping just prior to the fallout. At least with pancakes it was just a case of mix and water, but sooner than later they'd be hard pressed to cook anything else.
Maybe I could try and see if a text would go through...
Standing up from the floor, Holly grabbed her phone from the counter charger and pulled up iMessage. Typing away at the phone keyboard, she drafted up a message for some of the neighborhood kids—friends and/or neighbors that she had grown up and went to school together with prior to the apocalypse. She wasn't sure if any of them would receive the message, or how many of them were still alive. But anything was worth a shot, Holly figured.
Hitting send, Holly put down her phone on the kitchen counter and awaited any response.
Jason was woken up by the buzzing of his phone and he rolled over immediately to grab it in case it was dad and not just Zia Carina bugging him to go help with the garden or Zeke or Liam pinging him in another Zombie Apocalypse meme on discord. He shook his head to clear it. That'd all be gone soon and he honestly didn't know what the world would look like without it. Pulling the phone to himself, he remembered to keep it plugged in at all times. You could never quite know when the power would finally give up. There was the old generator Great-Grandma had kept for her and Great Gramps' ice fishing shed, but it was vintage 1970s and Lila was the one who'd been working on it. They needed to take all four cars - Mom's, Zia's, Lila's, and his - and all the spare tanks in the shed and empty a gas station.
Jason had paused in thought, but now he rolled onto his back, flicking and tabbing through his phone and... it was neither dad nor the crew. It was... Holly? She was... out of food. A tightness invaded his chest. That was a thing now: a thing to worry about. He'd actually snuck into town a week ago, in his full gear, and emptied the old general store that had once been the Sparling Arms of all its good stuff. He'd seen zombies too: one or two in the distance, but they hadn't seen him and he'd made it out to a tongue-lashing from his mom and a smirk of praise from Zia Carina. He flipped out of the group chat and over to private messages. There, he paused with his fingers over the screen. What to even say...? Holly was cool. They weren't like... best friends or anything, but she'd been the first person to play with him when he'd been the 'new kid' in Miss. Merriweather's Grade One class. Fuck... Holly.
His fingers moved without much direction from his mind as he entered his message. His thumb hovered over the little 'send' arrow for a second as he reread it. Disregarding the consequences, Jason pressed it and waited.
There was no more sleep to come. He could hear footsteps in the hallway and the buzz of Lila's stair lift. The house was waking up and he had a solid six and a half hours of sleep in him. It'd have to do. Still, there was a problem and all of Mulberry needed to get ahead of it. Kicking off his blankets, Jason mixed throwing on some clothes with working at his phone. What to name you, what to name you...Eh, fuck it. Alliteration. Jason took about three minutes to prepare his welcome message. There were some he didn't like, like that snarky bitch Hailee, but she was still probably marginally more useful alive than as a zombie, though being bit might improve her disposition. He smirked. Lila, Holly, Harper, Kit, Zeke, Liam, Carson, Alena, Harry... ugh, Lee. Fuck it: Davey too. He hit 'send' and bounded down the stairs. He could already smell the bacon and eggs.
"Jason, you shitlord!" Lila was holding up a pair of pizza pops still sealed in their plastic wrapper. "You call this food?" She tossed them onto her lap, wary of eating garbage food but warier of wasting good food when this had to go first.
"What?" he blinked and raised an eyebrow, busy going through the cupboards. "I eat it."
"That's like... a reverse endorsement." She rolled up to the microwave, an arm's reach from where he was bent over, searching for something, and flicked him in the side of the head.
"Oww!" Lila, what the fuck?"
"Did you maybe stop to think that this was freezer food?"
"Yeah... so?"
"And the electricity could go out anytime now?"
"Did you maybe stop to think most of the good stuff was gone before I risked my neck to get there?" He shrugged defensively. "...Was better than nothing."
Lila glanced down at the processed food in her lap, suddenly feeling like... a not-good person. She sighed.
"Why you so on edge?" her brother prodded, and her response came in the form of a snort. He let out his own and smiled faintly. "Yeah, yeah. Besides the obvious."
"You're telling me that huge random whatever-it-was noise last night didn't get to you?" Absently, she opened the wrapper and slid the pops into the microwave.
He came up with some bags of pasta and twisted her way, shrugging. "It was fuckin' zombies, Squeaks. That's a reality now."
Lila had not seen a single one, to be honest, and there were fleeting, semi-lucid moments as she lay half-awake in bed, or sat in the shower or staring at her computer screen when it almost occurred to her that this was all some sort of giant sick joke for a reality TV series, but then she quickly dismissed the thought. If anybody was going to be pranked on national TV, they wouldn't pick the girl in the wheelchair. They wouldn't dare kick the pity object while she was down, or besmirch the inspirational. Truth be told, she hadn't seen a zombie because she hadn't left the property, and hadn't even been outside alone. It was all still a nightmare, but one that went on and on and that she found herself just kind of sinking into as an unwanted reality. It was all gone: New York, her position in the orchestra, her YouTube channel, her friends: Judith, Liv, Carter, and Nitesh... She realized that she was drifting. "Ugh yeah. Sorry." She shook her head to clear it and punched some numbers into the microwave to start it up.
Lila made her way to one of the lower cabinets, bending over at the waist and pulling a couple of things out. "If you're gonna go bring Holly food, at least not the fettucine. You know it's dad's favourite."
She tossed him some penne instead and he juggled the bag for a second. Lila rolled up to him and held out her hands expectantly. "Wait... what are you talking about?"
"Already forgot you added me to the group?"
He stood there sheepishly. "Oh yeah, that."
Lila rolled her eyes. "Stay safe, Chop-Chop. Okay?" Just then, the microwave let out its four satisfying beeps and her pizza pops were done.
"Now I've gotcha!" Lila crowed out loud. She was in the garage, sitting on a cushion on the ground, Great Gran's old generator, vintage 1975, before her. She pulled the ripcord with everything she had, nearly falling backwards in the process. At first, she'd been convinced that she just didn't have the strength or balance to do it, but she'd commandeered Jason yesterday evening and the result had been the same: it roared and then sputtered, roared, and then sputtered, roared once more, and then lost its idle. Again, it repeated this routine and she was now confident in her diagnosis: the carburetor was gummed up. After Great Gramps' passing, the generator had sat there for years with gas in its tank and lines. That had gone bad, turned into a resin, and choked the fuel supply to the engine. It over-revved trying to get more, choked when that wasn't coming, tried to rev high again, but then failed and died.
There was nobody here to witness Lila's victory, but it still felt good. The struggle to be useful was always a real one for her and this was a tick on the positive side of the ledger. She'd have to achieve with her mind and her hands what she couldn't do with her body. Reaching for her notepad, she scribbled 'carburetor' into it under her list of 'high priority supplies'. It was only a temporary fix, of course, and gas stations would probably be dangerous, but it would see them through the transition to something more sustainable and at least Jason and Winnie were enthusiastic about getting gas. Herself? Less so.
Done with the journal, Lila set it aside, shrugged into her sweater, and took a moment to adjust her position and pull her knees to her chest. Deep breath. Hand on seat. Her muscles strained and she heaved herself back up into her wheelchair with all the grace of some lobe-finned fish hauling itself onto land from the primordial muck. One after the other, she settled her legs in position, adjusted her feet, and released her brakes. It took her about four minutes to zip-tie the pitchfork onto her seat, and it changed the chair's entire center of mass, but she at least needed to feel as if she had a fighting chance should - That's right. Fuck. It's literal zombies. - appear. Jason would need all the help he could get and... likely more for his idea to succeed, but it was the right step, in theory, and it would be safe enough if she traveled with her siblings. Lila was about to exit the garage when she realized that she couldn't actually reach the switch with this favoured weapon of the medieval peasant affixed to her wheelchair. She pulled out her phone and prepared to eat crow.
One of the last things Carson expected was a text message. For a moment he thought who it could be as he fumbled for his phone. His dad? Did the Helena approach shore to try to establish contact? Mom or his sisters? He hadn’t heard from them since they sent him a message claiming they were being evacuated out of Fayetteville by air. Nope, a local. Who was Jason…? The skater guy, right. ”You got the message too?” He looked up from the chess board. Similar questions had swirled around Alena’s mind. She knew the forest cottage where her parents had been spending time was far from civilization. Did her mom or dad find a hill that had cell reception? Nope. ”Aye. You answering?” ”Yeah, I got it, but the meeting’s past my bedtime.” In order to keep the night watch and still get enough sleep, the survivors at Valero’s had staggered schedules, with Carson usually sleeping between 13:00 and 21:00. ”Hmm…” She scratched her chin, scribbling into the watch schedule. ”How about you go to bed when we get back, I’ll take your watch and you take mine? An overnight shift will work better for the hunt than a morning one anyway.” She’d just signed herself up for 21 hours awake with only a three hour power nap, but she’d have things to occupy herself with and university had made her go through worse. That statistics course in the third semester was brutal. ”Alright, thanks.” With that settled, Carson shot the group a quick message before they went back to their chess game.
A L E N A S O K O L O V Á
Location:Valero house - nearby streets
TimeframeNoon - early afternoon
Interaction(s):None
She didn't even know someone in the town had her number, though given the situation she didn't mind one bit. Of course she first had to ask mr. Valero where the gazebo the message referred to was. No matter, as the situation involved all of them, she would've told him of the meeting regardless. ”It’s good to see people taking initiative.” He said, a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t done anything himself earlier, ”Let me know what you cook up. But Eventually, you will have to let others in on it.” ”Stand together or die alone, I know.” She reassured their host, ”If there’s any trouble, call and we’ll come running.” Immediately, she threw a few extra things into her crossbow case - a spiral-binding notebook, a mechanical pencil and a map she got out of mr. Valero's car, readying it to grab it whole and go when the meeting time approached.
13:30 ”So, do you actually know anyone else in that group?” ”Eeeeh… We’ve said ‘hi’ to each other when we passed in the street?” ”You’re not a people person, are you?” ”Well how many do you know?” ”None.” She admitted immediately, ”My flight home was supposed to be leaving ten days from now, I didn’t think it’d be necessary. Aside from you and mr. Valero, the only time I’ve spoken to someone from here at length was when I went to see doc Barlowe to ask if she’d take me on for a few months. Fuck it, let’s go make friends.” She grabbed her trusty, budget Hypertac and slung its the case over her shoulder, setting out early.
The two walked carefully, hunting crossbow and polehammer made of a fence pole, a paving block, rope and duct tape at the ready, taking note of which houses were showing signs of activity and cursing the cold along the way. The walk took about three times as long as it should’ve, Alena stopping every few dozen steps to look around and listen. Everything had gone upside down and inside out. Usually when trying to be unseen and unheard, she looked ahead, trying to pick out horizontal lines in the predominantly vertical lines of a forest, hunting. Now, she was concerned about what was behind her, looking for vertical, humanoid shapes in a city full of vertical lines and pretty much being hunted. Finally, they stood at the designated meeting place. ”Quarter to two. Now, are we that early, or are we in the wrong place?” Carson shrugged. ”You tell me, you were leading.” She sat down, both of them keeping an eye on the earnest buildings. ”If we’re in the wrong place, they’ll send a message.” He dismissed his own concerns, taking a seat on the opposite bench.
The sound of her phone coming to life was one Lee didn’t expect this early in the morning, but she wasn’t surprised, either. The only thing that was surprising is the network was still functional (and so were their phones).
She pulled her phone from her pocket, unlocking it, before reading through ‘Mulberry Street’ the group chat for, well, the Class of ‘23.
Years ago, it used to be just Harper, Lee, and Holly. Back before it became every senior. Including the ones she frankly couldn’t stand. Wasn’t her idea to make a social network, but she didn’t fight the need for it. Considering the current situation with the pending apocalypse, probably was a good idea to have it while the cellphone networks continued to exist. Eventually they wouldn’t have that, so, green grass and white picket fences--or however the expression went.
“Jesus Holly. This is why–” She sighed, muttering to herself while she read the message.
Her best friend apparently had no food. She started typing.
Sometime later, Axel stared at several loaves of bread and a tray of pastries. He wasn't sure what to do with them yet, but he did know some of his ingredients were going to go off if he didn't use them, to make bread. At least now he could freeze the bread, or feed some of the other people on the street. Harper had been asking to bring some food to the Holloways again. A regular thing their father started doing after the passing of Jill Holloway. Paul came in and just handed dishes to Harper, ordering her to take them to Holly "just because". But the three of them knew how hard the passing of Jill was on the family. Axel cursed himself a little, he had been slightly slacking in this duty that he took over from his father.
The young cook made a mental note to ensure to make a dish for the family later in the day.
Ingredients were dwindling though. Axel knew he still had ingredients at his apartment above The Greenhouse, and in the freezer in the restaurant. Given that it hadn't been raided yet. He was hesitant though, the sound of this night was more in that direction. And he wouldn't be going there alone. Frankly, going outside today to Delenay, which was just across the street and three buildings over, already scared him. The things he'd seen... no. He shook away the image of the happenings at the market.
Axel washed his hands as his eyes wandered to the Apple Danish pastries on the tray, still cooling down. Someone's favourite. He'd have to take some of them with him if he was going to visit her today, no sense in putting that off any longer. He put two of them in a paper bag.
Harper knocked on the window again, but apparently, it was a little too far away for Kit to hear her. Defeated, she turned back and sat down at the window seat. She picked up her logbook again.
Sometime later, a familiar ding sounded from her desk. Her phone just went off. For the second time, Harper put down her notebook and walked back over to her desk. She had two messages, one of them already send earlier in the day. She opened the first one, a new group app called "Survival Squad", the name made her smile and she scrolled through the group's participants. The seniors, Carlo's tenants... Davey too. She read the text and closed the app for now. She had no way of confirming right now, she didn't know if Axel would let her out like that.
Harper switched to the other group she got messages in. A message in the senior's group app, those who live in Mulberry Road, the "gang". She chuckled a little to herself. The group was first just for her, Lee & Holly. But they added others to the mix eventually. Her chuckle dwindled from her face as soon as she wrote the messages in the group, though. It hit some kind of reality for her she didn't want. Call her naive, but she didn't want to think about the moment that food would run out.
Maybe this could be an excuse for her to leave at 2. Phone in hand, the sunny teenager walked down the stairs towards the kitchen, where Axel was putting Apple Danishes into a paper bag. She snorted to herself, she knew damn well who those were for, even if Axe thinks she knows nothing. "Hey masterchef, feeding orphanages like the saint you are?" Harper joked as she raised herself up to sit on the counter of the kitchen island. She looked at several loaves of bread and a tray of pastries. It felt kinda weird, making so much food that would go bad so fast, but Harper knew the ingredients themselves were about to go bad. She grabbed a croissant and took off a piece with her other hand.
"Smartass." Axel said as he turned towards her.
Harper winked at him and finished her bite before speaking again. "Holly seems to be running out of food, is it okay if I bring some to her today?"
Axel sighed, his suspicions about the Holloway's food situation confirmed. "Yes, take a loaf and the leftover lasagne, there should be enough for three. Tell them I'll make more soon. There's a bag of rice too." Axel figured that then, at the very least, they could cook rice for themselves. "I'll make a bag with some stuff."
Harper noticed the slightly defeated demeanour of her brother. While they were not strapped for food yet, it would run out. The greenhouse in the garden could only provide so much and the restaurant groceries Axel had in his truck while coming here were dwindling down. Harper wondered how many supplies there were at the restaurant and Axel's apartment above.
"Don't go further than the Halloways though" Axel added, eyeing his sister. Harper nodded dutifully. Technically, the park was across from the Holloways, not *further*.
"Thanks, Axel." Harper looked at her brother. It was clear he had been working on the baking for a while, as she saw a familiar bleak expression on his face. Small beads of sweat on his forehead. She wondered about his sugar level right now but knew better than to ask. Axel, however, noted her looking and knew exactly where his sister's thoughts went.
"I'm going to the clinic later today, around 2. Don't worry, okay?" Axel said, as he turned around and grabbed a plastic shopping bag, putting the bag of rice in there already.
Harper was worried. Especially since Axel has such an adversion to leaving the home, but today he's going to. In any case, Axel leaving is good timing for Harper. She left the kitchen and unlocked her phone again.
A half-used bottle of apple cider. One singular can of cream corn. An old, forgotten box of mac and cheese in the back of the cupboard. The more Holly pulled from the cabinets, the more their options felt limited. What was she supposed to make of this? Apple cider-flavored mac and corn, one among many other disgusting dishes? It was food, sure. It was calories in their stomach, yes. But would it be the least bit appetizing? Obviously not. Anyone would've been a fool to think otherwise. This wasn't some winter stew you could simply throw whatever in. There was no way she could make a meal out of this, or anything else they still had in their pantry.
Holly glanced at her phone, worry befalling her thoughts. Did the message go through? Did they have anything to even spare? Or better yet, how many of them were still alive? It had been some time, for instance, since Holly had seen Harper or her brother, Axel. The Sweetlakes had been a great help since the passing of her mother, often bringing over dishes and baked goods to help out where they could. Their offerings had gotten so often that Morgan would race to meet Holly at the door just so she could bug Mr. Sweetlake or his son, Axel, hoping to ask for a danish or whatever sweet pastry they might've made that day. But that been long ago, it seemed. Ever since the apocalypse, she hadn't seen much hide nor hair of them, and it began to feel like they never existed in the first place—a feeling that worried Holly dearly.
A buzz. Her phone awoke, displaying a message from Lee across a Lee-Holly selfie-adorned lock screen. Duh! Why didn't she just ask Lee to begin with? They had been neighbors since before they could walk, and best friends, too. She'd been so preoccupied it never occurred to Holly that the simplest solution had been right in front of, or rather next door to her the entire time.
Yet that solution required going outside. Into the now zombie-infested streets of Huddeen, something that Holly had yet to do. She looked over at Morgan, still busy playing with her tea set. It was just next door, so it should be fine, right? If Lee was sitting outside her house, then the street was probably empty. Or so Holly hoped. She knew Lee wasn't stupid to put herself at risk over nothing, but Holly still nonetheless had her own concerns about safety and staying alive to worry about.
For now, though, Holly decided that she would have to stomach those concerns for later. Taking a deep breath, Holly slowly opened the front door, and walked over towards the Graves' front yard, where Lee said she had been waiting.
It didn’t take much time to get from her front door to where Lee was sitting next door. It was a hop-and-skip between the two houses, though once Holly made her way over to the blonde’s position it became apparent that Lee was more or less keeping watch with no trace of the 2013 Toyota Tacoma that Lee’s mom drove around town.
The eighteen-year-old jumped to her feet and grabbed the bat at her feet as she approached. “Slept like shit.”
"Haven't slept much either. Morgan didn't want to go back to bed after all the noise in town last night." Holly replied, taking a moment to look around. Although it seemed safe for the time being, even more so with Lee being armed with her bat, she still felt her nerves shiver in anxiety. "Where's your mom? Davey?"
“Rucker Street.” The girl replied bluntly as she started making for the door of her house. “Running supplies to the Wilkerson’s and Agnew’s.”
Agnew—Davey's mentor, or something in that vein, she was aware. Holly personally hadn't known much about Mr. Agnew, but Davey always seemed to talk with pride whenever he was brought up in passing conversation, so she figured he must've been someone decent. Regardless, Holly was glad to hear that others outside their small street had survived.
"You think they'll be back soon? I mean, I know they're capable of handling themselves, but..." Her voice trailed off as she followed Lee indoors. Such concerns were a touchy subject for both of them; one Holly wasn't quite willing to get into.
“Oh yeah, they are totally creeper chow.” Lee snorted, “You worry too much.”
"It's difficult not to worry, Lee. People weren't exactly eating each other back then." Holly paused, realizing what she had just unknowingly walked into. "Don't you dare say it."
“Hey. You said it.”
Holly rolled her eyes. She half-wondered in jest why she even decided to put up with Lee's shenanigans all those years ago. Still, it was nice to have this kind of conversation. It certainly took the edge off things, reminding Holly of all the stupid after school conversations they often had.
“Grab a box.” Lee commented, motioning over to a few cardboard boxes set aside next to the stairwell. “Let’s see what mom can spare.”
Walking over to the stairwell, Holly grabbed a medium-sized box by the handles and turned back to Lee. "Are you sure your mom won't mind? I don't want us to be a burden more than we already are."
Lee shrugged as she swiped a notebook from a table before the two moved for the kitchen.
“That’s what the book is for. Everything is accounted for. Everything.” She sighed, clearly annoyed by the need for the pen and paper of it all, “If we gave you guys some food and I write down you owe us, it shouldn’t be an issue.”
"That sounds like your mom, alright."
Box in hand, Holly began her pantry shopping. She had some knowledge, largely due to childhood sleepovers and other such things over the years, as to where most things were in the Graves' kitchen, but Holly wasn't sure how much they had. The Holloways certainly needed more food, yet Holly also didn't want to be selfish in regards to the Graves' assistance. She was already struggling with feeling indebted to the Sweetlakes, and Holly didn't want Lee to think she was taking advantage of her and her family on top of that.
To her luck (and probably the Graves, too), however, Mrs. Graves had just done their shopping prior to the end of the world. There had been plenty of everything. Bread. Cereal. Milk. Even some iced tea that Mrs. Graves or Davey had made. Regardless of the selection, though, Holly decided to keep to the essentials. Things like bread, peanut butter, or some fruits. By no means was Holly about to be whip up a five star meal anytime soon with what she had grabbed, but simple things such as PB&Js would get them through at least for awhile. Plus, it was things Morgan would actually eat, picky as five year old kids can be.
Once the box was full of the necessary supplies, Holly sat it down on the island counter, and walked over to Lee.
"Thank you." She replied, before suddenly wrapping her arms around Lee. Awkward as was, Holly couldn't help herself right now. Times had been rough given the circumstances, and a box of food was a huge relief on her shoulders. "You don't know how much this is helping."
“Oh. You’re–” Lee was taken aback by the gesture, though her awkwardness didn’t stay long. “–You’d have done the same. Don’t worry about it.”
"Maybe you guys could come over tonight for dinner? It's the least I could do to repay you. I'm sure Morgan would love to see you again."
“The feast of ages. PB&J with mac n cheese.” She laughed, though her expression turned a little serious for a brief moment, “You sure your dad can handle people right now?”
Lee had a point. As little Holly saw of her father these days, the Graves saw even less of him.
"I... I honestly don't know, Lee. He hardly leaves his room, much less even talks to Morgan or I. We're all struggling with it, but sometimes... sometimes it feels like he isn't there. Like I'm trying to talk to a ghost."
“With all of the creeps around, he needs… I don’t know, he needs to do something. Sorry. I’m sure you guys will figure it out.”
Holly nodded solemnly. "I just hope what it is happens before anything terrible happens."
Harry Kimura spent a longer time in the shower than he usually did. The feeling of hot water rushing down his body helped him feel alive, separate from the undead people that gathered not far enough away. Harry rationalized that he should use as much water as possible while the service was still working. Like electricity, Harry was very appreciative that the water was still running. It seemed like having these necessities meant that the world was still working. But Harry knew that this wouldn’t last, as he could still see in his mind the carnage of the first day, zombies quickly overtaking most of town.
Yet again he pushed away any troubling memories, Harry just trying to focus on what needed to be done. Clad in just a towel, Harry descended the steps back to the main floor, Kit coming up the stairs next to him.
“Did you leave me any hot water?” Kit asked, his body language just exuding stress.
“Maybe,” muttered Harry as he continued to go down the steps.
“I swear to God, if the water is freezing,” Kit was saying but by now Harry was ignoring him.
Harry quickly descended the second set of steps that led to his basement abode. Once there he changed into some work clothing. His wardrobe was somewhat limited as he hadn’t intended to stay after his parents’ funeral, and most of the room was taken up by boxes, the Kimura’s using the basement bedroom as a storage area after Harry had moved out. But since coming back to Huddeen he had slowly reclaimed his room.
As he finished dressing, Harry picked up his mother’s novel off his nightstand. Seeing as he wasn’t expected for anything for a few hours, Harry felt it a good time to try and finish the massive tome. That had been his goal last night, but exhaustion had won out and he fell asleep.
Harry carried the large hardcover book back upstairs and into the lounge room adjacent from the kitchen. Plopping down on the sofa, Harry began to read again. However, after reading about two chapters, Harry’s phone chimed. Placing the book down and taking out his phone, Harry could see that he had been added to a group chat called Survival Squad. Apparently he had been included in a gathering of young people for later today. It felt weird for Harry to consider himself a young person, as he viewed himself an adult. Put apparently he was youthful enough to be included. Harry quickly sent a message saying I’ll be there.
Harry then returned to his reading, Kit emerging from the upstairs bathroom a few minutes later, heading for his room. Just as Harry reached a cliffhanger, Kit came out of his room fully dressed and went toward the kitchen.
“Did you check your phone yet?” Harry asked him.
“Yeah, the Holloways are running low on food,” replied Kit.
“Really? But that’s not what I meant. There’s going to be a meeting of some kind today, strictly for the youths of the street.”
Kit then pulled out his phone, and typed up a response before going to the kitchen. Harry returned to his book determined to finish it within the hour. It was very engaging and he really liked the characters. Harry wished that his mother was still around so that he could tell her this. When he was younger, he never told his parents how amazing they were, how proud he was to be the son of two amazing writers.
But like many other thoughts, Harry pushed away regrets, instead focusing his vision on the print of the book. It didn’t hurt as much emotionally if he removed himself from the book, to not view it as a work of his mother.
K I T A R O K I M U R A
Location:Outside the Kimura Residence
TimeframeMorning
Interaction(s):Holly - @Kuro, Survival Squad Group Chat
Kit Kimura was so focused on his agitation that he completely missed his neighbor trying to call him over. With an exasperated sigh, Kit stepped off Mulberry Street and onto his property. However, he didn’t feel like going in as that would mean talking to Harry. And right now Kit wasn’t in the mood to deal with his older brother.
Instead he went in to the backyard of the Kimura Residence. While not particularly large, the yard was a nice green space with a few chairs strewn about. Kit’s father had always kept a well trimmed lawn, while his mother had started a vegetable garden about a year ago, wanting to make her family more self sufficient. Since their passing, Kit had done his best to maintain the greenery, though he quickly realized he lacked a green thumb.
But even if he couldn’t get the whole planting thing down, Kit still enjoyed the backyard for its peaceful setting. A thing most people didn’t know about Kit was his struggles with anxiety. During his middle school days it had gotten bad enough that his parents took him to a therapist in the city. There he had learned meditation techniques, techniques that he found worked best in his backyard.
So Kit sank into a wooden cottage chair, trying to focus on something besides agitation. Thusly he focused on his breath. After a few minutes, Kit had gotten into a rhythm, his eyes closing as he breathed. However, this serene moment would be broken up by a loud pinging noise. Slightly annoyed at his phone, Kit still took it out of his pocket to check who had text him. It was his neighbor Holly asking about food. Kit quickly typed up a response.
Kit then tried to do more breathing but found that he could find no relaxation. The thought that people on Mulberry were already running out of food terrified him. It made the whole situation feel more real, like that society was falling apart. The notion sent a shiver up Kit’s spine, as the cold chill of the morning invaded his body.
Deciding that the best way to deal with this chill would be to take a shower, Kit got up and entered his house from the back door. As he approached the stairs that led to the top floor, where the only shower in the house was, Kit saw Harry coming down, his hair still wet.
Already agitated, Kit asked, “Did you leave me any hot water?”
“Maybe,” was all Harry said as he went down the stairs.
Kit groaned before muttering, “I swear to God, if the water is freezing,” before deciding to hold his tongue.
As Kit turned on the shower head, he found that indeed all the hot water was gone. While normally Kit didn’t mind a cold shower, this particular morning he had been craving the warm rush of water. But Kit couldn’t stay mad at Harry, as he knew a hot shower was one of his ways of coping. And everyone left alive in Huddeen needed a way of coping with all this change.
Kit would keep the shower brief, before heading to his room to change into some day clothes. Deciding on a simple t-shirt and jeans, Kit entered the lounge room and saw that his brother was reading a signed copy of [i]Even Angels Cry[/]. Prior to their death, Kit had never seen Harry read any of his parents’ works, but now he powering through their entire catalog.
As Kit made his way to the kitchen, Harry asked him, “Did you check your phone yet?”
“Yeah, the Holloways are running low on food,” replied Kit as he continued to the kitchen.
“Really? But that’s not what I meant. There’s going to be a meeting of some kind today, strictly for the youths of the street.”
Intrigued, Kit pulled out his phone and saw that he indeed had missed a text while in the shower. Him and pretty much every young person on Mulberry Street were now part of a Survival Squad Group Chat. After looking over the text, Kit quickly replied.
Kit then went to the kitchen to grab some instant oatmeal. As he looked through the cupboards, he also tried to figure out what to give Holly. The Kimura house had quite a few cans of beans, some basic crackers, but not much in the way of meat and vegetables. Kit wondered that if they ran out of nutritious food would they get something like scurvy and die? He didn’t know, he never really paid attention in any of his science classes.
By now, Holly had returned home with a fresh box of food from the Graves'. It wasn't necessarily a lot of food, but for the family of three it would get them through a few more weeks—provided Holly made sure to ration well.
"Where did you get that?"
Holly paused, caught off-guard by her father's question. She figured he had to be done with his shower by then, but Holly didn't expect him to engage her in conversation. To hear her father speak felt foreign; a surprise to her ears. Nonetheless, Holly did not bother to look in his direction, and continued to place items away in the kitchen fridge. Although it was not his fault by any means, his presence was a continuous reminder of the overwhelming responsibility that had been dropped unto her lap—that she had to beg her friends to ensure food was still on the table.
"The Graves." Holly replied, grabbing a jug of milk to put away. "Lee helped me gather it all."
Once more, her father did not reply, opting to stay silent as he reached for the coffee pot. Holly wondered what had to be going through his head right now. They both missed her mother dearly, she knew that much, and would've given anything for her to be back in their lives. But things were already falling apart the moment her mother was put in the ground. She didn't have the time to mourn like her father did, she had been too busy balancing her schooling with the responsibilities of a full household.
And now there were zombies they had to deal with. The end of the world, where a neighborhood stroll could get you killed. Things just kept getting worse and worse, and it felt like her father didn't care in the slightest. She felt just as abandoned by her father as Huddeen had been abandoned by their absent rescuers.
As Holly placed the last items within the fridge, her silent bemoaning was suddenly interrupted by the ding of her iPhone. Then another ding. And another. Her phone went over and over, the messages seemingly endless and in rapid succession. She wasn't sure who it was blowing up, but given the times, Holly feared the worst. Was someone trying to get help? Lee was home alone, and Jason and the others hadn't yet responded to her earlier messages. Not wanting someone else to die, Holly shoved past her father and hastily grabbed her phone again to read her notifications.
Spare food from the Kimuras. Pasta from Jason. Leftover lasagna, rice and bread from the Sweetlakes. And something about a Survival Squad meeting, the Value household and snacks. Evidently, she had been getting worked up over nothing. There was no one in danger, rather, just a bunch of good news and Jason adding her to yet another group chat.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Holly typed in some responses to the flood of messages.
“Healing fine. I’ll be walking again soon.” The older man motioned to his leg, as he pressed he bent his knee. “Just wish I didn’t total the truck.”
Davey Graves stood in the living room of Theodore Agnew, who before the apocalypse, pretty much had given the stability he needed since he left high school. As an old school handyman Ted had basically worked in the greater Concord-Manchester Area for over fifty years. Through him Davey had learned various home repair skills that were probably going to be useful in the world to come.
The younger man was a little worried about his mentor, though reality had been pretty kind all things considered. The car accident that broke the sixty-seven-year-old’s leg had been a little over a month ago, so nothing relating to the freak sickness that turned people rabid to be concerned about. Still, the old man was living alone with his granddaughter, Jenny, who herself had just turned fourteen. Even with all of Ted’s guns mounted on the wall, Davey couldn’t shake being worried about them and the people that lived away from Mulberry Street.
“Could be worse.”
The old man snorted, “Could be better.”
“We’ll come check on you in a few days. Don’t be afraid to reach out. We need you alive.”
The two men looked over to the left, where Davey’s mother, Lorrie, had finished putting away the supplies with help from Jenny. With box in hand, Davey knew it was time to get back home.
“Right.” Davey commented as the two Graves' family members made their way through the house's front door. “We heading straight back?”
His mom shook her head as she tossed the box in the back of the 2013 Toyota Tacoma. “I want to stop by the gas station, get anything else we need.”
“Think it's been hit since last time?”
“Might be. We only chained up the doors. Anyone with a pair of bolt cutters could get in. And that’s not even talking about the tanks.” She remarked as the two entered the Tacoma. “I hope not. We need the gas reserves to last as long as possible. But we aren’t the only survivors out there.”
Lorrie turned the key and with that they hit the road.
The buzzing of Davey’s phone caught his attention, particularly of a group chat Jason had decided to make. He scrolled through, wondering what exactly the kid was thinking trying to cut out the people who had been doing the bulk of the work keeping the community alive in the last two weeks. He sighed, putting the phone away.
“What’s up?”
Davey shook his head, laughing. “Jason thinks he’s in charge.”
“Oh does he now?” Lorrie’s expression didn’t change as she turned down another road, keeping her eyes in front, “That’s interesting. What does our leader think we should do?”
Part of Davey wished he didn’t mention it off-hand, but his experience trying to lie to his mother always backfired in the past, so he didn’t even bother trying to change the subject. Not like he cared one bit about any of it. In the end, they were going to be a while at the gas station his mother worked at regardless…
Winnie didn't recognize him, but she still felt weirdly bad for the man. Maybe a tourist? Maybe someone who'd just been passing through or visiting family? He twitched and staggered, bereft of all humanity, and she put the binoculars down. There was another one like him, she knew, at the opposite end of the street. Jason had called them a 'Damocles Sword' hanging over everyone's head, but Winnie liked to think of them as more of a reminder. Not since that first terrifying day when she had run from school as fast as her legs could carry her, when she'd watched people laugh as their teacher had spasmed and contorted, thinking it was an April Fools' joke before realizing otherwise too late, had she encountered a zombie. Some were calling them 'creeps' now, because 'zombie' seemed too unreal, but it was real. These were zombies. That was that. They weren't funny anymore. They weren't something to watch in movies or kill in videogames. They weren't a 'critical reflection of our yearning to escape the mundane', as Mr. Carlos had been so fond of saying. They were things that could bite your face off now: things you could become. The pair bookending Mulberry street were a constant reminder that, even when they weren't in front of you, they were there. They were death waiting for you at any moment.
Could they climb trees, though? Winnie had often wondered that. She'd made plans around it, even. It was, to some extent, why she was up in a tree now, straddling a branch and swinging her feet idly - nervously - back and forth. She'd always felt safer up in high places, even as her parents had done everything within their power to keep her on the ground, including the destruction of the treehouse that Grandpa had built. Winnie wasn't Lila, though. She wouldn't fall and break her back.
It was at that precise moment that she noticed her sister, coming around the side of the house with... "Why's there a pitchfork tied to your wheelchair!?"
Lila swept some hair from her eyes - it was a bit of a breezy day - and squinted up at her. "My own sense of self-defense," came the reply.
Jason was right behind her. "I had to retrieve her from the garage because she couldn't turn in a small space."
"On the plus side, if there are any kings that need overthrowing, I'm your girl."
Sometimes, Winnie decided, it was hard being eleven and already the smartest one in your family.
"Don't worry. It'll be a chainsaw instead once we have more gas."
Winnie's dangling feet swung back and forth. "A gun would probably be more effective. Think we can borrow Zia Carina's?"
Jason shook his head. "Won't let us touch it on pain of death," he grumbled, "but I've got my swords."
Lila visibly grimaced, but Winnie thought that she didn't really have a leg to stand on here. She was sporting a pitchfork, for the love of God. "Now come on, Buggy," her older sister prodded, and the girl was already swinging herself off of her current branch. "We've gotta go. We're meeting up at the gazebo."
"Yeah, it's time this street started organizing or we're all zombie chow."
C A R I N A Z A N E T T I
Location:Backyard, Sparling Home
Timeframe:Early Afternoon
Interaction(s):Alana Sparling
Previously:none
The children were up to something. Carina could sense it. There'd been a flurry of text messages and that was never a good sign. It was not a good sign because, when kids did something without telling the adults, it meant that they were doing something stupid. Stupid things got people killed and, right now, Mulberry street needed people. "Coming up on your eight." Carrying a stack of pots, she passed Alana in the yard, where the (former) psychologist was working on planting more vegetables. Normally, Carina would have been horrified. She'd have mobilized the HOA, but this was the end of the world and things needed to be rethought and she was stuck with it. Ideally, the whole street would be turned into a series of heavily fortified farms, self-sufficient, with one 'hub' providing electricity as needed.
To this end, she spent the entire first half of the day digging and planting and following a mix of the guides Lila had printed and what her parents had taught her. A good half of their backyard, growing up, had been a fruit and vegetable garden and vivid were her memories of chasing Adrian and Devon through rows of Cucuzza trellises. It would take at least a couple of years for this yard to reach that sort of production, but then they'd have food security. The problem was that Carina doubted they'd make it that far. Devon was missing and she'd been trying not to think about it. Alana was a psychologist, Winnie was a child, and Lila was... a liability. It pained her to see her niece like that. She'd been thriving before Hollywood monsters had made themselves real. Now she was helpless and doomed and she knew it. Brave girl, though: she'd hardly said a word to anyone. She'd just made herself useful. That was all she could do. All any of them could do.
Carina went inside and made herself a late lunch: the last of their cold cuts save the smoked and salted hams in the pantry. The bread was all bad anyhow and had to be toasted. She stalked outside after putting everything away, sandwich in one hand and pliers in the other, intent on tightening some of their warning wires. That was when she noticed Jason and Lila moving together with purpose towards the backyard, the former with a pair of those cheap Japanese-style swords he'd bought online strapped across his back and the latter with a...pitchfork strapped to her wheelchair. It was an effort not to call them out then and there, but more would be gained via eavesdropping. Carina continued eating, but she kept her ears open and made her way right to the edge of the yard, not quite comically peering around the corner. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum met up with Winnie and, before she knew it, she could hear the Three Stooges planning some sort of secret meeting, just as she'd earlier suspected.
Gazebo, two o'clock. She went inside to tell Alana.
"So what do you think about that noise last night?" Kyle laid back in a chair looking intently at his wife as she prepared some tea for herself. He looked and sounded concerned. As he should, given the situation they were in and the mystery of last night. True that they still had food left for at least two weeks, but that is the point of food if things get worse. Like the zombies entering the street, and that is a thought he does not want to think about, but he has to at some point.
Tegan had now finished her tea and chose to sit down on the conch and took a sip of her tea before speaking. A car crash or something like that, I would think." She took another sip of her tea. A very bad car crash if it was that loud, and how are you feeling Kyle?" Tegan looking at him warmly.
At first, Kyle hesitated for a moment but quickly replied though sounding unsure. "Maybe, I think it is something else, something bad, but... I just hate this. Not knowing what is happening out there while we hunker down here in the street, in our homes, and our supplies will only last so long."
"I see Kyle, but we are fine now and are safe."
"But for how much longer and that loud sound from last night." Kyle paused for a moment and looked out the window, out to the street, before looking back at Tegan. "I guess I am tired of living like everything is normal and not really doing anything about our situation. I mean, there are fricking zombies out there in what is left of the town, and yet we are just doing things normally." Kyle let out a tired sigh and put his head down.
Tegan put her tea away on the coffee table and put her left hand gently on Kyle. Trying to show that he has her support and speaking in a caring tone. "I understand, Kyle, and I have to admit we could be doing more around here. But, what can we do right now and we have done some."
"Still, I am worried, Tegan, and I am... I am just to lay down in bed for a bit and figure out some things"
"Okay, Kyle, I will be here if you need me", and with that, Kyle left the family room and headed to the bedroom.
It is hard for Tegan to see Kyle like this as she watches Kyle leave the room. True, things are good now, but for how much longer? A thought she had not thought much of, just trying to survive while they still had power and more. Still, maybe they should start planning what to do once they run out of supplies. She sighed as he grabbed her tea and took a sip. Maybe even coordinate with their neighbors, but they are all strangers to them. Would they even listen to her or Kyle? That is a good question, and to her knowledge, no one is doing anything other than carrying on like things were normal-ish.
Either way, they are safe for now, and maybe they could start organizing the street into some kind of survivor haven. That would be the ideal, and Tegan decided once she was done with her tea. To see what they have around the house to defend themselves. It would not hurt to check, and it would be a start in the right direction. Yeah, that sounds like a plan, she thought and hoped this would help Kyle some. He is worried about the future, and she can not blame him. So here goes starting to prepare themselves for their new undead reality and not get caught out with nothing. Not if she has any say about it.
