A 734 Word Short Story I Wrote
Quote:
I wrote this in my Christian writers group for our "Zombie Month." Several people said this was in their top 5 stories written for the 300-1,000 word writing contest that much. I didn't win though xD The main critiques were the exposition and unrealistic arm decapitation. They said they loved the strong ending though! :D
Decided I should share it here too. This takes place in my fictional expanded universe that eventually will get a novel series.
INFECTED:
“No! Please! Don’t leave me!â€
The words he cried as a little boy. He and his brother abandoned by parents trying to survive the apocalypse. The infected threatened all life; mommy and daddy chose their own over their sons. The children had been saved, but he never forgot how they had been left for dead – or the men turned monsters that drove them there.
Now, he was a young man. With a sword in his hand, the redhead briefly recalled the memory of his pitiful cries as the infected attacked them. Now, he was stronger. He would never need to cry for help again. He had dedicated his life to killing any and all monsters in his world, including the Ferals.
A recent infestation of Feralism ravaged a farming community. It was night. A long forty nine hours were spent purging the land of the infected. Crops were decimated by hungering ferals. Fields were riddled with their now slain bodies. Barns burned behind him as he glared down a feral. The insane man twitched as his unfocused eyes tried to glare back.
“Symptoms include insomnia, paranoia, delusions and hallucinations, sensory dysfunction, extreme hunger, and loss of sanity.†The textbook definition of the disease, spread by bites, scrolled in his head as he lifted his sword. They didn’t just lose their insanity, but their humanity. The feral finally moved, leaping towards him with a lack of coordination. With a single, smooth swipe the redhead cut the back of its neck. The best way to end the creatures was snapping the central nervous system.
It fell dead.
Lowering his stained blade, he smiled in grim satisfaction. No more were in sight. With his sector cleared, he could return to base, and his brother. He turned to leave when in the darkness he tripped! Suddenly, he was falling down a hill riddled with weeds. Coughing up dirt, the boy realized he had lost his sword. No matter, he still had his side arm on him if he had missed one. Sighing, he pulled himself to his knees – and realized he was sitting right in front of a feral.
He gasped, pulling himself back. He drew his dirk, glaring with shocked, loathing eyes. It was a female, no more than adolescent. Tangled blond hair covered wide eyes. She just… stared…
“Just kill it and leave,†he muttered as his blade shook, “It’ll attack at any moment.â€
Instead, they sat there. They just sat there. It was unresponsive to its surroundings or his presence. It was moaning in a high pitched voice. Its vocal chords were strained, like it had not used them in ages. Steadily, he realized the moans sounded strangely like language. He broke out in a cold sweat when he realized what the words were.
“… help me… help me… help me…â€
Skin churning pale, he cried out. The blade slipped from vibrating hands. Memories of monster after monster blindly feeding on flesh flashed through his mind. The transformed stalking two innocent boys. No! This could not be!
“… help me… so hungry…â€
He stood there, hand lowering. As it moaned in agony, he saw an inflicted, suffering child from a ravenous disease. – but no! They were monsters! This was a monster!
“… so hungry…â€
He could not believe when he lifted his hand again, extending it towards the girl. “H-hey.†He choked. “What’s your name?â€
Empty eyes which seemed to be staring into space lowered to his hand. For a long moment, she did not respond. She stared at the empty hand. Then her pupils dilated.
Pain exploded when she lunged and bit his hand.
He cried out, yanking back. She let go, and he looked down at his hand. Eyes widened, the possibility of infection roared in his mind. He grabbed his knife. Adrenaline granted temporary immunity to pain, he hacked at his arm. Vision blurred as anxiety sored, he cut off the compromised limb as a voice echoed from beyond him.
“… not bread?... not bread?...â€
He cried out as all these events raced through his mind. Terror soared as he jumped up and turned in a blind direction. He needed to run! Get away from this! Get medical attention! Seek help! He bolted through the ferns as the flames of the distant farm fire flickered. Behind him, those haunted words rang out, but he never processed them.
“No! Please! Don’t leave me!â€
