it again.
It cracked.
Again.
A small gap.
Again.
A large enough hole to go through.
Matt cleared the glass by running the hockey stick along all the corners, making it much safer for him to pass through. He didn’t hear any shuffling and didn’t see any of the ghouls on the street taking much notice of him. He took a deep breath and went inside.
The living room was immaculate to say the very least. All the couches were perfectly arrange, the place was still decorated and nothing seemed to be out of place. There was a spot of dust here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary. Matt walked through the place very carefully. Who knows what could be inside?
The door was chained shut, so no one left and he remembered that the window was still locked.
“No one came in from the outside. But the lock… does that mean no one left?”, He whispered to himself.
“What if they were infected and stood behind?” Matt began to enjoy talking to himself.
He checked every corner, being sure to look behind himself every few seconds. He found nothing. He looked under the couches, behind the TV, and even poked the hockey stick through the closet.
Now for the bathroom.
“Which one of these is the bathroom?”, he whispered.
He carefully knocked on the first door that he walked by.
Silence.
Carefully turning the knob, Matt ventured in slowly. The toilet was clean, the sinks were dry, and the shower curtain was partially drawn. It offered him enough room to see that it was empty.
Matt breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good.
Only one more room to check…
Walking to the last door in the apartment felt like an eternity. Matt’s heart was racing. He kept reassuring himself that the apartment was quiet, so there would probably be an empty room behind that door.
His palms were sweaty, his knees grew weak, and his arms turned to limp noodles. He could barely hold onto the hockey stick.
He let his hand rest on the door knob for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and turning the knob.
He pushed the door open. It creaked ever so slightly. Inside there was a bed with a netted drape hanging over it. Matt squinted his eyes and barely noticed two figures under the drape.
A breeze that tickled his face startled him. He gasped and picked up the hockey stick.
“Wind. Only the wind.” He muttered to himself.
The figures under the drape were motionless; the wind was the loudest thing in the room.
Matt, never showing his back to the figures, crept over the window and closed it. It shut hard, too hard.
Matt locked up and started at the figures, expecting them to rise.
Nothing.
He went over to them and pushed the drape aside with the hockey stick.
His fear quickly changed, he lowered the stick and moved the drape back with his hands.
“Aw, shit.” He felt a tear welling up in his eye. For a moment, he finally forgot about his hunger.
He fell to his knees and wept for a few minutes.
Under the drape was an older couple, forever asleep and holding hands. Both were dressed in their absolute best. The husband was in a suit and tie. He even had wilted flower in his breast pocket. One hand was laid on his chest and the other held his wife’s hand. She had a small smile on her face and a dried tear on her cheek. She wore a beautiful white dress that was flawless. There was barely any light in the room, yet the dress shone brighter than the sun.
Matt looked at the table. There were two large, empty glasses and a bottle of old wine. Beside the bottle were a prescription bottle of sleeping pills. It was completely empty.
“Couldn’t save any for me, huh?”, Matt said to the old man. His eternal expression was enough for Matt.
“Fine, I’ll let it slide”, Matt said to the corpse.
“You guys got off easy, you know. I don’t have anyone. I gotta deal with this on my
It cracked.
Again.
A small gap.
Again.
A large enough hole to go through.
Matt cleared the glass by running the hockey stick along all the corners, making it much safer for him to pass through. He didn’t hear any shuffling and didn’t see any of the ghouls on the street taking much notice of him. He took a deep breath and went inside.
The living room was immaculate to say the very least. All the couches were perfectly arrange, the place was still decorated and nothing seemed to be out of place. There was a spot of dust here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary. Matt walked through the place very carefully. Who knows what could be inside?
The door was chained shut, so no one left and he remembered that the window was still locked.
“No one came in from the outside. But the lock… does that mean no one left?”, He whispered to himself.
“What if they were infected and stood behind?” Matt began to enjoy talking to himself.
He checked every corner, being sure to look behind himself every few seconds. He found nothing. He looked under the couches, behind the TV, and even poked the hockey stick through the closet.
Now for the bathroom.
“Which one of these is the bathroom?”, he whispered.
He carefully knocked on the first door that he walked by.
Silence.
Carefully turning the knob, Matt ventured in slowly. The toilet was clean, the sinks were dry, and the shower curtain was partially drawn. It offered him enough room to see that it was empty.
Matt breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good.
Only one more room to check…
Walking to the last door in the apartment felt like an eternity. Matt’s heart was racing. He kept reassuring himself that the apartment was quiet, so there would probably be an empty room behind that door.
His palms were sweaty, his knees grew weak, and his arms turned to limp noodles. He could barely hold onto the hockey stick.
He let his hand rest on the door knob for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and turning the knob.
He pushed the door open. It creaked ever so slightly. Inside there was a bed with a netted drape hanging over it. Matt squinted his eyes and barely noticed two figures under the drape.
A breeze that tickled his face startled him. He gasped and picked up the hockey stick.
“Wind. Only the wind.” He muttered to himself.
The figures under the drape were motionless; the wind was the loudest thing in the room.
Matt, never showing his back to the figures, crept over the window and closed it. It shut hard, too hard.
Matt locked up and started at the figures, expecting them to rise.
Nothing.
He went over to them and pushed the drape aside with the hockey stick.
His fear quickly changed, he lowered the stick and moved the drape back with his hands.
“Aw, shit.” He felt a tear welling up in his eye. For a moment, he finally forgot about his hunger.
He fell to his knees and wept for a few minutes.
Under the drape was an older couple, forever asleep and holding hands. Both were dressed in their absolute best. The husband was in a suit and tie. He even had wilted flower in his breast pocket. One hand was laid on his chest and the other held his wife’s hand. She had a small smile on her face and a dried tear on her cheek. She wore a beautiful white dress that was flawless. There was barely any light in the room, yet the dress shone brighter than the sun.
Matt looked at the table. There were two large, empty glasses and a bottle of old wine. Beside the bottle were a prescription bottle of sleeping pills. It was completely empty.
“Couldn’t save any for me, huh?”, Matt said to the old man. His eternal expression was enough for Matt.
“Fine, I’ll let it slide”, Matt said to the corpse.
“You guys got off easy, you know. I don’t have anyone. I gotta deal with this on my
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