The house was cozy and warm. Safe.
The candle-lit rooms of the small tile-roof cottage in the night time had an eerie feeling about them, and as I moved through the cramped space I could not keep my thoughts from moving back to the city. The place were my friend was. Or used to be, rather. The place that we would have fun in the barn and play on sunny days, before he started manufacturing zombies. I had known him once.
"Some pie?" the sweet lady's voice called from the kitchen only five meters away.
"Yes, please, thank you!" Food was never to be declined. Even though I felt anxious and a sickness in my chest, even though my every neuron felt like it was dedicated to trying to understand my pursuers, I could not refuse a good meal. It would either be the last one I got, or the one that would let me live for another few minutes.
I had come to this cottage suspicious, but it was true that the man of this house had helped me slip away. He was a bit older than me, perhaps ten or twenty years, but his long limbs had developed muscles and his face was kind, his short hair slightly greying.
His house, although small, easily roomed five people, and the narrow corridors lined with closets two meters high, containing linens and clothings, would make for great traps. I could just imagine one of the old man's saws snapping out from the wooden, white-painted doors. I didn't like being in those hallways for too long.
"I'm looking for the Catacombs. It might be a good-" I caught myself mid-sentence. In my attempt to make dinner conversation, I nearly worried the couple more than they needed to be. They were kind, and while they had good stores and holdings, kindness was sure to kill them. Sure, there were zombies on my trail, but if they panicked I might lose out on this hospitality. Of course, at the time I didn't think exactly that, all of this logic only came to me in the form of an abstract fear, but what held my tongue was exactly those thoughts, moving too fast for me to turn into words. "-source of information." My words seemed to flow smoothly enough. Judging by the continuation of their meal it didn't raise any suspicions.
The older lady, still shoveling pickings of pie into her mouth, raised her eyebrows at my small-talk. "Ah yes, Gordy went there recently didn't he?"
"Yeh, that boy's always lurking around that direction. Probably knows of 'em."
"Where is he?" Before I could think about it, my heart lightened at the prospect of a guide through the possible maze. I could not let the opportunity go.
"Went out this mornin'" he said answered kindly. "Was real excited, packed a back with five days worth of supplies!" He burst into a hearty guffaw, which immediately quelled the suspicions that had pierced my thoughts. The boy didn't know of what was happening. Only an exaggerative joke. The thought that a kid had foresight of all of this scared me more than I thought it would. I laughed along politely, determined not to look at the man's open, food-stuffed mouth. He was a lanky fellow with creases at his brow, but he ate, laughed, and seemingly drank like a barrel-chested lumberjack.
Before we could end the eating ritual by clearing the dishes off the table, the wife returned to the kitchen frantically, the tell-tale sign of fear smudging her beautiful features. This was go time.834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtaySZCm8m3
I could feel the thoughts running through my head at a million miles a second, my body on autopilot. I wanted the man with me. Let him look out the window, check the situation. My stuff, a torn, thin jacket and a measly food bar, were all ready to go. When the growl of a motorcycle vibrated the windowpanes, however, a completely new wave of energy came over me.
Shit. Shit! Shit shit shit! This wasn't good! All there was around the cottage was flat lands, and the forest was at least a few hundred meters away. I could hear the confused, unorganized bustling of the couple around the house, trying to understand what was happening, hoping to know what to do. This was my chance.
"Come with me!"834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbexQKXQq2D
I slowly opened the back door, and a single second later I knew what to do.
There was light teeming from around the corner. A spotlight. On a motorcycle. One of them. To my left was downhill. As soon as I felt a presence behind me, I bolted.
My body was comfortable with this. I felt the flow of the land, the pistoning of my legs and the rotation of my arms. It was all a dance that I had gotten used to. Without even looking behind me I could tell that the man was struggling, loudly barreling down the hill. The roar of the engine after a few seconds pushed me forward faster, and immediately I felt exposed. Open land was the worst possible position to be in, but if I wanted a bit of luck this was the best way to go. A quick scan of the darkness in front of me filled me with a bit of hope when I saw a bunch of foliage; shadowy trees and shrubbery, in a sparsely-spread wall. Not a forest, but some sort of safety. Now it was my goal. The engine's purr was getting closer. My back was open. The man. I'd hear him scream. I'd hear something crunch. I'd keep running. 834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQHxsk1tu7B
I felt a bit safer when I reached the shrubbery, but not done yet. Eyes on the floor I weaved left, right, a small hop. Foot placed right, stride taken far left. A small path, short sprint. I hadn't even realised that a river was there when I slid into the jagged muddy trench. I didn't even think about it. That shallow river was somehow, just, there, and I knew it. I ran wherever I felt safer. 834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhCW3J9p5Fn
As my feet gained speed again in the impeding water, the voice from behind me pulled my attention from the fact that now I didn't know if I was being seen or not. Keep running.
"Where do we go now?" He was out of breath. And scared.
"Stick to the sides" I called back quickly before taking my own advice.834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs7ELNtp1bD
Through the shallow water I flowed along with it. I flowed from one side to the other, feeling the stones and avoiding the mud. I flowed low, waded through water, kept to the left, hopped on a stone, flowed to the right. My feet were dragged from underneath me, but without needing to be surprised I made sure they were swept behind me. In the torrential waters the man was swept away. 834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUzAGADr6GZ
The light still tore holes through the sparse foliage, and the feeling of safety was dwindling. They were riding alongside, but without being able to look back, needing to keep my flow, I could not tell whether I was being hunted or blindly chased. My foot found security on dry dirt and I scrambled up it. There wasn't even time to register it yet. All I knew was that the next moment could be my last, and every moment that one foot failed to get in front of the next solidified that fear. Clawing at rough bark in the darkness, I pressed my back against the tree and urged my chest to rise and fall less desperately. The light and engine passed. But then, before even travelling three meters away, it drew back to me. This tree was my only chance.834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEHjJdQmIQ1
The spotlight was to my left. I scurried right, back still to the trunk, almost tripping over roots. 834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxdKYe0lusj
834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb4WE2mZ6Hw
The world became slower. The flow stopped.834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6dcHcqGhpU
Menacingly, the light crept across my shelter, and realising my situation, and fearing the intelligence of my pursuer, I crept left again, making myself as small as possible. left, left, left stop. This brightness seemed a monster to me, and its breath had stilled, hesitating, readying for a strike. But strike it did not, and being the speedy beast that it was, it was determined not to let its game fly further away down the river.
The water's pull threatened me at every step, but I simply didn't have the energy to flow with it as I once did. The river, held between two steep dirt walls decorated with roots and grasses, was now an eerie deep blue instead of an alert series of twinkles in pitch black. Keeping low, I had no other choice than to follow it, for I had no other options for cover as I ran, had no strength to carve a new route, and the threat of my chaser still loomed over me. My ears were pricked up for the sound of an engine or footsteps, but the water's constant crashing cadence had me on my guard.
Further along the river path, I met a young boy huddled against the dirt wall, snacking on a boiled potato. Gordon was his name, and he was bright and perky despite the horrors I knew lay lurking all around us.
"I'm going to the catacombs. There's something important there."
"Is it where that bike was going?" The enthusiasm with which he asked his seemingly endless questions was sickening me.
He knew his way around the catacombs, he said. Had been there "a bunch of times". He seemed rather proud of it. I couldn't share the feeling. The oppressive wetness, darkness and cold, as well as the constant fight that I kept with my knees to stay standing was all starting to get to me. This river slowly carved itself into my memory like an ancient stream into stone.
"So," was the prelude to another influx of inquiry, "those things you're running from are zombies, huh?" 834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvFmcYxRcnB
To gain his cooperativeness, I had told him my entire story, conveniently omitting his parents. The fact that his father had been lost by me so suddenly still weighed on my mind, and that unique feeling of uncertainty for another human being swirled in my chest. Not that I cared for him, but it's kind of like seeing your folks doing the deed. You know you shouldn't be bothered by it, but it still ends up scarring you for the next few years.
"They're not zombies. They were made from people. They're faster, and smarter." 834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUsl4NeXTrp
My worst nightmare.
"That's so cool! This is gonna be an epic adventure!"
I stopped dead in my tracks, the heat of anger warming my freezing cheeks, and grabbed the boy by his shoulders as soon as he turned around, the full force of the anger in my eyes stabbing its way into his.
"I'm not an adventurer, kid! I'm a survivalist!! You live or die. And I have something to live for."
After that, the child didn't seem interested in me anymore; not who I was or my past. In fact, he seemed to rather dislike me. 834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhHCjddQC8J
I found three chicken eggs floating in a small whirlpool and harvested them, commenting on how lucky the find was. The kid ignored it, not understanding that a single egg could last the both of us an entire day.834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1cgsud8ncX
After the forty minute long trek, we finally arrived at the entrance to the catacombs carved into a rock face, the river disappearing under a few wooden boards tied together by rope. A warm, inviting glow was pulsing from inside, and the dry breeze that brushed my sodden clothes was more than enough to relax with a heave of my chest. The eyes that I feared were on me had seemed to run away into the night, but not ten minutes after drying my stuff and settling down to crack open an egg, the feeling of a group of pursuers just around the river's bend crept into my chest.834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtFeZHjxb2O
"lead the way," I motioned to the boy, "we're playing with time here."
This is from last night's dream, a rather vivid one. I have to say, I've never had the privilege of feeling this way ever in my life. I had never experienced the feeling that running away from something was something you did instead of something that was forced upon you, and this feeling was entirely new to me. Surprisingly so. To think, when things chase me in my dream, I don't wake up.
The next part of my dream is in the catacombs, and it is considerably less vivid as well as shorter because I was woken up after that. There is still an extremely frightening moment there as well. I will only write it if thee's interest in it. I would have written it now because I've never been so motivated to write anything before, but my mind is tiring at the recollection and I know I will only see the prospect of writing more of the same dream as arduous. Such is the case with that multi-part story of this series that I haven't finished yet. 834Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡclyy3zCn8K
This dream is one of the few where dialogue actually plays a role in it, making it rather memorable. Usually people talking in my dreams have more of a general feel that can be remembered instead of actual words, so to remember words is something special. That I'll probably forget in a few years like the others. It's also one of those rare dreams where I'm not myself, but somebody else. In this case a white man with short brown spiky hair. Not a kid.
Also, fun fact that i only realised when I was awake: floating eggs mean that they're expired. And later on in the catacombs the expiration date printed on the eggs is a few days passed. Gordon even comments on it.
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