Dead World

Eights Part 3

The morning sun shone through the now clean windows, hitting Nine in the face. Nine gently rocked Eights, only to realize that he was already awake. His eyes were bloodshot, and bags formed underneath them. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

"Sorry."

Eights held a small journal up. "I found this while you were sleeping. It's my parents. They found the Hidden City."

"That's great. Do you plan on looking for them?"

"They just left." Eights grasped Nine's hand. "Do you think they still want me?"

Nine clasped their hand in Eights, "We should look for them."

"Will you go with me?"

"I would love to."

The forest grew silent as the two teens entered the dense briar. Nine held a paper in their hands. They carefully observed the crudely drawn map. Eights walked ahead, whacking at the shrub to clear a path. "Are we still going the right way?" he asked.

"I can't be certain. I'm not the best at reading maps."

"You mean my parents sucked at drawing them," Eights laughed to himself. "They never could pick up the survival skills grandpa taught either. That's why they always wanted to go to the Hidden City."

Nine tapped their fingertips against their leg, "Isn't it weird that we haven't come across any zombies."

"Not really," Eights ran a hand through his hair. "Zombies tend to stick close to the ruins of old cities. Unless something loud like a car draws them away, they won't move."

A chorus of growls sounded throughout the forest. Grr, grr, grr, the sound grew louder. Eights and Nine looked at one another.

Nine darted behind a large boulder, and Eights followed them. The group of zombies grew closer, and a faint rumbling shook the forest floor. Nine looked over at Eights, whose eyes widened.

"I'm sorry, I jinxed it."

Eights peeked his head from behind the stone. A horde of zombies trudged toward them. "We gotta run." Eights jumped up from the ground, grabbing Nine by their arm; he pulled them through the forest at a fast pace.

The stampede followed them. Nine stumbled. As Nine fell, catching themself with their hands, the paper map flew out of their hands toward the horde. Eights dashed after it, only to fall flat on his face.

Nine held tight to Eights' ankle, "Don't go."

Eights glanced at the flying paper, then back at Nine. Their leg bled profusely.

"Damn it!" Eights lifted Nine off the forest floor and carried them princess-style. Nine grabbed onto Eights tightly as the boy took off through the forest.

The growls grew louder with each step Eights took. His arms and legs began to burn, his breath grew shallow, and his heart drummed violently inside his chest.

"I think I can run." Nine insisted.

Eights began to see white stars floating around the air. He lost speed, and Nine wiggled out of his arms, falling to the ground.

"I'm okay now."

"No, I can do this." Eights' chest heaved up and down. His face was soaked with sweat, and his legs felt like jello.

Nine grabbed Eights' shirt, "Look!" They pointed to a building hidden behind some overgrown foliage.

Nine dragged Eights towards the building. The zombies closed in as the two trudged to the walls surrounding the building. What felt like hours passed slowly, and Eights' wavering steps grew longer and faster as the promise of rest was just in front of him. The walls towered over the two. Eights interlaced his fingers while squatting against the wall.