Chapter 2
Marcus was awakened at seven in the morning by the sound of screaming. He ran down stairs to find the source and found his mother cowering in a corner. He hugged her, not entirely sure what was going on. Liz walked into the room and also hugged her. They were doing everything they could to calm her down, but she would not stop. Marcus’s mother freed a single hand from their embrace and pointed outside, toward their neighbor’s house. Marcus could see blood marks on the bright yellow paint and a body of the family’s mother. A chill ran down his spine. Their neighbors were known to have dealings with the wrong kind of people, and Marcus feared the worst.
He left Liz to handle their mother and ran out of the house to check on their neighbors. As Marcus crossed the street, someone drove by him going well over fifty miles per hour and nearly ran him over. He wondered why they were in such a rush and looked back at the house. His neighbor’s body was gone. He ran up to the house and peered through the window. He could see the son lying over her body. Marcus guessed that he was mourning over his dead mother and opened the door to speak to him. As soon as the door opened, the father approached the door. He was breathing heavily, and looked like he was ready to kill someone. Marcus was about to say something when he noticed the eyes. They were black with red irises and white pupils. He let out a shrill noise that sounded like an animal, and the son turned away from his mother’s corpse. He held the same facial expression, along with his mother’s blood dripping down his lips. Marcus turned to run, but his path was blocked. Another strange case looked up at him from the bottom of the staircase.
Marcus jumped over the railing and looked around when he realized that none of the undead were moving fast. All of them were slow, as if they would lose their balance otherwise. It did not matter how fast they moved, because they packed around Marcus on all sides. He looked around him for a weapon, and he found only three useful items. Marcus took two of them. He took the American flag from its post and used it to impale three of the zombies before ripping off a metal lamp from the outer wall of the house and ramming the metal cage into the nearest foe. Marcus made his way through the thinnest line of opposition and ran to his house. When he entered the front door, he locked both the screen door and the wood door. His father was sitting on the couch, fear greater than anything Marcus had ever seen made home in his eyes. Marcus knew that he was the only one who saw this kind of thing happening, this meant it was his duty to get everyone in line. He yelled out, “These things aren’t very strong, but I’ll bet those windows wouldn’t last very long. We need to get to some kind of safe place.”
Marcus pondered on the thought for a minute when his dog started barking and he heard a window break. He just then knew what to do. He yelled, “Everyone up the stairs. Now!” His family was too fear-stricken to not listen. They needed to find some hope in logic, and Marcus must have been a shining light to them. He ran upstairs behind them and told them to go into the storage room. It was an old room that used to be a guest room, but they needed the extra space, so the junk and dust started piling up. Marcus opened a window and looked down to see three or four hundred zombies crowding around their house.
Marcus’s father closed the door and pushed a treadmill that they bought a few years ago in front of the door. That was when Marcus got an idea from an old zombie movie he remembered watching on a rainy day. There was an entrance to their attic in that room, and Marcus knew that zombies could not climb. He and his father grabbed a bed and pulled it over to that part of the room. Marcus climbed onto the bed and lifted the panel off of the ceiling and looked around. There was no third floor to their home, but the attic was close enough. The rooms were four to five feet high and there were no floorboards or ceiling panels. A few boxes were spread about, but there were very little useful items in them. He knew there was nothing dangerous up there, but one could never be certain. Satisfied that they would be somewhat safe, Marcus pulled himself up and used a flashlight to keep himself from hitting his head on the wood supports. He pulled up Liz, his mother, and his father was last. Marcus placed the panel back in its proper spot and looked at his family. His mother shook from head to toe, and he wondered how long it would be until she snapped. Liz looked at Marcus, as of waiting for him to come up with a plan. His father was more or less trying to find out if he was dreaming or not and simply stared off into space.
Five minutes passed by, and the hissing noise from below was getting louder. Marcus guessed from the lack of small pauses when they breathed in that there were around five or more zombies in the hallway below them. The four were quiet and still for an hour before the noises stopped. Marcus whispered, “I’m gonna check it out at the other panel to see if they left or not. Stay here and stay quiet.” Nobody argued with him as he made his way to the second panel, which opened up to the hallway just next to the staircase.
When he pulled the panel off, he looked down to see his home packed with mindless undead. They were all motionless and silent, as if they were waiting for their prey to come to them. Marcus swore silently, and a single undead he recognized as his neighbor raised his hand above the crowd and hissed. All of the others sprang to life and made to grab one of Marcus’s body parts, eager for a fresh meal. Marcus pulled his head out before they could grab him and placed the panel back in its place, where it started to shake as the undead tried to push it off the low ceiling.
Marcus spoke to his family, “We aren’t getting out that way. Look, this isn’t exactly quality family time, so I’ll make this short. We need to get out of here, and the only way we can go is down.” Liz asked the first question, “How are we gonna do that, Marcus?”
“We’ll find a way.”
“I don’t think there is a way”
“There’s always a way, you just need to find it.”
“Well, did you find it?”
Marcus pondered on the thought for a long minute before he came up with something. He knew that their back porch was unstable, and the garage held enough supplies to last them a few days. Marcus came up with an idea, but he knew that his family would be hard pressed to believe him and he knew of the risk, should the deck not do what he needed, they would all be killed either by falling or by the hundreds if not thousands of undead.
“I have a plan, but it’ll take a lot of luck and a little bit of trust for it to work.”
“Anything at all is better than staying up here for the rest of our lives.”
Marcus reached up into a small hole in the woodwork around him and pulled out a box a little larger than a VCR console. He opened it up and started to shift through the many papers of old plans, schematics, and a few disks with information many people would pay millions for. None of that mattered when he found a little silver key with a head the shape of a sword hilt. He told his family, “We need to get to the garage.”
“And how do you plan on doing that? It’s a full hundred ad fifty feet to the garage, and that’s probably filled with those things,” his father said.
“Like I said before, there’s always a way.”
“Do you know a way?”
“I do.”
“Will we make it?”
“Probably not, but you get a choice: wait here until those bastards leave us alone, or follow me and live another day.”
Marcus found a keyhole in another part of the woodwork and pressed the key inward. It was a perfect fit, and Marcus turned the key. A part of the wood slid off and revealed a small silver rod imbedded in the house’s frame. Marcus grabbed it and pulled with all of his strength. The sound of metal grinding against metal filled the house as the rod was revealed to be the hilt of a five foot long blade. The metal was perfect, like a mirror, and Marcus could see his eyes reflecting off of the glossy surface. Marcus crafted the blade himself, and he built it light as a feather but strong as a solid iron bar. Along the first half of the five inch wide broadside, “Paladin” was carved in bold cursive lettering. Marcus was pleased with the condition of the blade and twirled it in his hand.
Marcus walked to the back end of the house and used Paladin to carve a hole in the wall three feet wide. He pulled himself through and told his family to follow. They did as instructed and soon they were all a little bit higher. Marcus looked off into the small field beyond and he saw a small army march toward his home. The line was thick with undead and Marcus knew that if they passed the garage, their chances of escape would be cut in two.
He told his family to jump on the second story porch and they did as told. Were they in any other situation, Marcus would have taken advantage of his newfound power. He told them to grab onto the railing in front of him, and Marcus started to kick the lower support beam, which extended upward to connect to the railings. Eventually, the beam gave way, and the porch fell in an arch away from the house. Marcus grabbed onto the railing as it fell, and the two cars parked beneath it were crushed. Marcus pulled up his family and said, “We gotta go. Some time today would be nice!” They all stood, and Marcus looked behind him at the oncoming horde. They were almost past the first garage door. Marcus started running and the others followed him. Marcus was the first to reach it, and he used Paladin to thin the enemy numbers. His family needed as much time as possible, and he planned on giving them that time. When they were all in the building, Marcus followed them and slammed the door behind him.
He locked the door and pulled over an old transmission his father never sold in front, just incase an inch thick brass rod could not hold them off. When he was satisfied that they were safe for the moment, Marcus pulled out of his pocket a satellite phone he prayed still worked. When he turned it on, he could hear a dial tone. He dialed 911 and it came up with the “We’re sorry, but all of our lines are busy,” message. Marcus hung up and dialed another three digit number, 666. He said, “Calling on all men and women of the covenant, is anyone there?” A voice he recognized as Demetrius answered, “Marcus, buddy, you are the only one gay enough in the group to say something like that. Where the hell are you?”
“I didn’t like the normal world, so I bought a one way ticket to hell.”
“Would you like me to pull you out?”
“Only if my family can come with me.”
“We’ll work something out. But there’s something I gotta tell you; you probably won’t recognize me when you see me.”
“I will. I saw what you did to yourself, and I did the same.”
“Say wha’?”
“I changed my form too. Everyone else in the lab did the same, all except Isaac. And of course, I changed the scale to look a little more like what we are.”
“I noticed, and I think I like the change.”
“I don’t care how big it is, I could still kick your ass anytime, anywhere.”
“Oh yeah?”
Marcus was about to yell into the phone when he remembered that his family was staring at him and hundreds of undead were only a few millimeters of steel away. Marcus said, “Where are you, Dem?” To which he responded, “I’m a few miles away from your house, shall I meet you there?”
“Meet me somewhere on the road, we’ll drive to you.”
Dem was content with the answer and hung up his phone. Marcus turned his off to conserve the power and started to explain the secret he as been keeping from his family since his turn to sixteen.
He left Liz to handle their mother and ran out of the house to check on their neighbors. As Marcus crossed the street, someone drove by him going well over fifty miles per hour and nearly ran him over. He wondered why they were in such a rush and looked back at the house. His neighbor’s body was gone. He ran up to the house and peered through the window. He could see the son lying over her body. Marcus guessed that he was mourning over his dead mother and opened the door to speak to him. As soon as the door opened, the father approached the door. He was breathing heavily, and looked like he was ready to kill someone. Marcus was about to say something when he noticed the eyes. They were black with red irises and white pupils. He let out a shrill noise that sounded like an animal, and the son turned away from his mother’s corpse. He held the same facial expression, along with his mother’s blood dripping down his lips. Marcus turned to run, but his path was blocked. Another strange case looked up at him from the bottom of the staircase.
Marcus jumped over the railing and looked around when he realized that none of the undead were moving fast. All of them were slow, as if they would lose their balance otherwise. It did not matter how fast they moved, because they packed around Marcus on all sides. He looked around him for a weapon, and he found only three useful items. Marcus took two of them. He took the American flag from its post and used it to impale three of the zombies before ripping off a metal lamp from the outer wall of the house and ramming the metal cage into the nearest foe. Marcus made his way through the thinnest line of opposition and ran to his house. When he entered the front door, he locked both the screen door and the wood door. His father was sitting on the couch, fear greater than anything Marcus had ever seen made home in his eyes. Marcus knew that he was the only one who saw this kind of thing happening, this meant it was his duty to get everyone in line. He yelled out, “These things aren’t very strong, but I’ll bet those windows wouldn’t last very long. We need to get to some kind of safe place.”
Marcus pondered on the thought for a minute when his dog started barking and he heard a window break. He just then knew what to do. He yelled, “Everyone up the stairs. Now!” His family was too fear-stricken to not listen. They needed to find some hope in logic, and Marcus must have been a shining light to them. He ran upstairs behind them and told them to go into the storage room. It was an old room that used to be a guest room, but they needed the extra space, so the junk and dust started piling up. Marcus opened a window and looked down to see three or four hundred zombies crowding around their house.
Marcus’s father closed the door and pushed a treadmill that they bought a few years ago in front of the door. That was when Marcus got an idea from an old zombie movie he remembered watching on a rainy day. There was an entrance to their attic in that room, and Marcus knew that zombies could not climb. He and his father grabbed a bed and pulled it over to that part of the room. Marcus climbed onto the bed and lifted the panel off of the ceiling and looked around. There was no third floor to their home, but the attic was close enough. The rooms were four to five feet high and there were no floorboards or ceiling panels. A few boxes were spread about, but there were very little useful items in them. He knew there was nothing dangerous up there, but one could never be certain. Satisfied that they would be somewhat safe, Marcus pulled himself up and used a flashlight to keep himself from hitting his head on the wood supports. He pulled up Liz, his mother, and his father was last. Marcus placed the panel back in its proper spot and looked at his family. His mother shook from head to toe, and he wondered how long it would be until she snapped. Liz looked at Marcus, as of waiting for him to come up with a plan. His father was more or less trying to find out if he was dreaming or not and simply stared off into space.
Five minutes passed by, and the hissing noise from below was getting louder. Marcus guessed from the lack of small pauses when they breathed in that there were around five or more zombies in the hallway below them. The four were quiet and still for an hour before the noises stopped. Marcus whispered, “I’m gonna check it out at the other panel to see if they left or not. Stay here and stay quiet.” Nobody argued with him as he made his way to the second panel, which opened up to the hallway just next to the staircase.
When he pulled the panel off, he looked down to see his home packed with mindless undead. They were all motionless and silent, as if they were waiting for their prey to come to them. Marcus swore silently, and a single undead he recognized as his neighbor raised his hand above the crowd and hissed. All of the others sprang to life and made to grab one of Marcus’s body parts, eager for a fresh meal. Marcus pulled his head out before they could grab him and placed the panel back in its place, where it started to shake as the undead tried to push it off the low ceiling.
Marcus spoke to his family, “We aren’t getting out that way. Look, this isn’t exactly quality family time, so I’ll make this short. We need to get out of here, and the only way we can go is down.” Liz asked the first question, “How are we gonna do that, Marcus?”
“We’ll find a way.”
“I don’t think there is a way”
“There’s always a way, you just need to find it.”
“Well, did you find it?”
Marcus pondered on the thought for a long minute before he came up with something. He knew that their back porch was unstable, and the garage held enough supplies to last them a few days. Marcus came up with an idea, but he knew that his family would be hard pressed to believe him and he knew of the risk, should the deck not do what he needed, they would all be killed either by falling or by the hundreds if not thousands of undead.
“I have a plan, but it’ll take a lot of luck and a little bit of trust for it to work.”
“Anything at all is better than staying up here for the rest of our lives.”
Marcus reached up into a small hole in the woodwork around him and pulled out a box a little larger than a VCR console. He opened it up and started to shift through the many papers of old plans, schematics, and a few disks with information many people would pay millions for. None of that mattered when he found a little silver key with a head the shape of a sword hilt. He told his family, “We need to get to the garage.”
“And how do you plan on doing that? It’s a full hundred ad fifty feet to the garage, and that’s probably filled with those things,” his father said.
“Like I said before, there’s always a way.”
“Do you know a way?”
“I do.”
“Will we make it?”
“Probably not, but you get a choice: wait here until those bastards leave us alone, or follow me and live another day.”
Marcus found a keyhole in another part of the woodwork and pressed the key inward. It was a perfect fit, and Marcus turned the key. A part of the wood slid off and revealed a small silver rod imbedded in the house’s frame. Marcus grabbed it and pulled with all of his strength. The sound of metal grinding against metal filled the house as the rod was revealed to be the hilt of a five foot long blade. The metal was perfect, like a mirror, and Marcus could see his eyes reflecting off of the glossy surface. Marcus crafted the blade himself, and he built it light as a feather but strong as a solid iron bar. Along the first half of the five inch wide broadside, “Paladin” was carved in bold cursive lettering. Marcus was pleased with the condition of the blade and twirled it in his hand.
Marcus walked to the back end of the house and used Paladin to carve a hole in the wall three feet wide. He pulled himself through and told his family to follow. They did as instructed and soon they were all a little bit higher. Marcus looked off into the small field beyond and he saw a small army march toward his home. The line was thick with undead and Marcus knew that if they passed the garage, their chances of escape would be cut in two.
He told his family to jump on the second story porch and they did as told. Were they in any other situation, Marcus would have taken advantage of his newfound power. He told them to grab onto the railing in front of him, and Marcus started to kick the lower support beam, which extended upward to connect to the railings. Eventually, the beam gave way, and the porch fell in an arch away from the house. Marcus grabbed onto the railing as it fell, and the two cars parked beneath it were crushed. Marcus pulled up his family and said, “We gotta go. Some time today would be nice!” They all stood, and Marcus looked behind him at the oncoming horde. They were almost past the first garage door. Marcus started running and the others followed him. Marcus was the first to reach it, and he used Paladin to thin the enemy numbers. His family needed as much time as possible, and he planned on giving them that time. When they were all in the building, Marcus followed them and slammed the door behind him.
He locked the door and pulled over an old transmission his father never sold in front, just incase an inch thick brass rod could not hold them off. When he was satisfied that they were safe for the moment, Marcus pulled out of his pocket a satellite phone he prayed still worked. When he turned it on, he could hear a dial tone. He dialed 911 and it came up with the “We’re sorry, but all of our lines are busy,” message. Marcus hung up and dialed another three digit number, 666. He said, “Calling on all men and women of the covenant, is anyone there?” A voice he recognized as Demetrius answered, “Marcus, buddy, you are the only one gay enough in the group to say something like that. Where the hell are you?”
“I didn’t like the normal world, so I bought a one way ticket to hell.”
“Would you like me to pull you out?”
“Only if my family can come with me.”
“We’ll work something out. But there’s something I gotta tell you; you probably won’t recognize me when you see me.”
“I will. I saw what you did to yourself, and I did the same.”
“Say wha’?”
“I changed my form too. Everyone else in the lab did the same, all except Isaac. And of course, I changed the scale to look a little more like what we are.”
“I noticed, and I think I like the change.”
“I don’t care how big it is, I could still kick your ass anytime, anywhere.”
“Oh yeah?”
Marcus was about to yell into the phone when he remembered that his family was staring at him and hundreds of undead were only a few millimeters of steel away. Marcus said, “Where are you, Dem?” To which he responded, “I’m a few miles away from your house, shall I meet you there?”
“Meet me somewhere on the road, we’ll drive to you.”
Dem was content with the answer and hung up his phone. Marcus turned his off to conserve the power and started to explain the secret he as been keeping from his family since his turn to sixteen.