and deserted roads, no sign of
anyone else; infected or not, but they kept a vigilant eye on both sides of the
road. They passed through a small residential area —beautiful little cottages,
well decorated bungalows, winding roads, and cul-de-sacs were all that resided there.
This was definitely the more expensive side of the neighbourhood. The people
that lived here were either in their golden years, retired and settling down,
or they were new families, wanting to keep out of the hustle and bustle of the
city centre.
Where there once sat gardens with beautifully kept
lawns, was now overgrown grass covered in litter and expensive cars crashed and
wrecked on the sides of the roads. Windows had been smashed and household
objects thrown onto the curbs. Windows were splattered with the same brown
liquid that Sarah had noticed earlier and again, Sarah didn’t let the thought
of what it was enter her mind.
Though she had been trying to seem unaffected by
the incident at the computer shop, inside she was reeling. Her nerves were shot
and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, flashes of the woman’s screams entered her
mind randomly and she felt as though with the slightest trigger, her poorly
maintained demeanour would fragment and she would descend into madness.
“Why haven’t we seen any infected people around?” she
asked, trying to concentrate on the world around her.
“I don’t know, maybe because there’s no one around
to provide stimulus,” Mark shrugged. “For now, let’s be pleased about it. We’ll
worry about them when we see them.”
They headed along the road into a small cul-de-sac
with four red-bricked bungalows around it. The sun was now high in the sky and
the morning’s shadows had been chased away. From here they could see a wooden
gate in-between the last two bungalows, this led to the woodland trail that
they needed to follow all the way to Solitude. Because of the buildings on
either side, all they could see of the trail was a cobblestone path leading
into blackness.
As they walked towards the end of the cul-de-sac,
Mark froze on the spot, his eyes fixed on something in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, gripping the bat in
her right hand tight. Her heart began to race.
Mark pointed the last bungalow on the left, next
to the trail without saying a word. His crowbar was in his hand and he raised
it up as if it was a baseball bat.
Sarah scanned the bungalow and its front lawn
nervously. Nothing moved in the darkness of the windows and there was nothing
on the front lawn to hide behind — it was empty. She began to calm down,
obviously just a false alarm. She turned to face Mark and shrugged but before
Mark could react, a long, drawn out creak came from behind her and she spun
around to face the bungalow.
On the right side of the building was a six-foot
high gate that blocked the view of the back garden and — as the two of them
watched in horror — the gate slowly opened, the hinges squeaking loudly as it
did.
A shirtless man with shoeless, blood-stained feet
stepped out from behind the gate, his suit pants covered in brown stains and they
stuck to his skin. He looked to be in his mid-thirties but it was hard to tell
with the state of his face and body: his chest and arms were covered in black,
crusty lumps that were smudged with dark brown stains. His face was nearly black
with dirt and his dark hair was spotted with bald patches. The puppet-like way
he moved his arms and legs, and his large, twitching eyes made him look
completely insane — the wide grin displaying red-stained teeth didn’t help
either. He searched the car park excitedly, like a child looking for a new
toy, and then his eyes locked on to Mark. His eyes lit up and his mouth fell open
as if in happy surprise at his new visitors.
“Fuck,” Mark muttered and slowly stepped
backwards, never taking his eyes of him.
The infected man began jumping up
anyone else; infected or not, but they kept a vigilant eye on both sides of the
road. They passed through a small residential area —beautiful little cottages,
well decorated bungalows, winding roads, and cul-de-sacs were all that resided there.
This was definitely the more expensive side of the neighbourhood. The people
that lived here were either in their golden years, retired and settling down,
or they were new families, wanting to keep out of the hustle and bustle of the
city centre.
Where there once sat gardens with beautifully kept
lawns, was now overgrown grass covered in litter and expensive cars crashed and
wrecked on the sides of the roads. Windows had been smashed and household
objects thrown onto the curbs. Windows were splattered with the same brown
liquid that Sarah had noticed earlier and again, Sarah didn’t let the thought
of what it was enter her mind.
Though she had been trying to seem unaffected by
the incident at the computer shop, inside she was reeling. Her nerves were shot
and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, flashes of the woman’s screams entered her
mind randomly and she felt as though with the slightest trigger, her poorly
maintained demeanour would fragment and she would descend into madness.
“Why haven’t we seen any infected people around?” she
asked, trying to concentrate on the world around her.
“I don’t know, maybe because there’s no one around
to provide stimulus,” Mark shrugged. “For now, let’s be pleased about it. We’ll
worry about them when we see them.”
They headed along the road into a small cul-de-sac
with four red-bricked bungalows around it. The sun was now high in the sky and
the morning’s shadows had been chased away. From here they could see a wooden
gate in-between the last two bungalows, this led to the woodland trail that
they needed to follow all the way to Solitude. Because of the buildings on
either side, all they could see of the trail was a cobblestone path leading
into blackness.
As they walked towards the end of the cul-de-sac,
Mark froze on the spot, his eyes fixed on something in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, gripping the bat in
her right hand tight. Her heart began to race.
Mark pointed the last bungalow on the left, next
to the trail without saying a word. His crowbar was in his hand and he raised
it up as if it was a baseball bat.
Sarah scanned the bungalow and its front lawn
nervously. Nothing moved in the darkness of the windows and there was nothing
on the front lawn to hide behind — it was empty. She began to calm down,
obviously just a false alarm. She turned to face Mark and shrugged but before
Mark could react, a long, drawn out creak came from behind her and she spun
around to face the bungalow.
On the right side of the building was a six-foot
high gate that blocked the view of the back garden and — as the two of them
watched in horror — the gate slowly opened, the hinges squeaking loudly as it
did.
A shirtless man with shoeless, blood-stained feet
stepped out from behind the gate, his suit pants covered in brown stains and they
stuck to his skin. He looked to be in his mid-thirties but it was hard to tell
with the state of his face and body: his chest and arms were covered in black,
crusty lumps that were smudged with dark brown stains. His face was nearly black
with dirt and his dark hair was spotted with bald patches. The puppet-like way
he moved his arms and legs, and his large, twitching eyes made him look
completely insane — the wide grin displaying red-stained teeth didn’t help
either. He searched the car park excitedly, like a child looking for a new
toy, and then his eyes locked on to Mark. His eyes lit up and his mouth fell open
as if in happy surprise at his new visitors.
“Fuck,” Mark muttered and slowly stepped
backwards, never taking his eyes of him.
The infected man began jumping up
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