Apocalypse [1]

Day 2- 08.36am

Fletcher hurt all over. His head throbbed as he attempted to sit up, and a wave of nausea forced him to lie down again. He was vaguely aware that he was no longer in the street, his head resting on something soft and no gravel digging into his back. It was mostly quiet, aside from the soft moaning of a zombie from somewhere nearby. Though somewhere deep down Fletcher could feel panic, it was not was enough to make him move from where he lay. He lay there for some time, wondering where he was…and why.

 As the pain began to numb slightly, Fletcher became aware of approaching footsteps. He managed to open his eyes slowly, a blinding beam filling his light-deprived eyes. When everything finally swam into focus, he realised two boys were knelt beside him, staring down at his face with concern. One of them reached forward and dabbed something at Fletcher’s head, his tousled brown hair swept over his forehead, and warm brown eyes scanning Fletcher’s face with concern. The other, an Asian boy with short black hair, shook Fletcher’s arm gently.

 “You okay? You hit your head quite hard back there,” he said, his voice husky and low.

 “What happened?” Fletcher croaked, his mouth dry as he attempted to speak. He licked his lips, but they refused to moisten. The Asian boy reached behind him and put a glass of water to Fletcher’s lips, which he drank thankfully, gulping it down.  He smiled as he remembered that he had never really liked the taste of water.

 “You were attacked. You had one of those things on you, and then another one jumped on you, out of the blue. You hit your head on the floor and knocked yourself unconscious. It was a good job we were nearby. You’re lucky to be alive,” he said grimly.

 “Did…are the others okay?” Fletcher whispered, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

 “There are three survivors,” the boy said bluntly.

 “Alby!” the other boy hissed. Fletcher’s eyes welled with unshed tears, but he blinked them back, afraid to show weakness. Alby kept a neutral face, and nodded curtly to Fletcher.

 “Patrick will see that you’re tended to. I assure you that you will be safer here.”

 With that, he turned and walked away. Fletcher attempted to sit up again, Patrick supporting him as he scanned his surroundings. At least, it seemed, he’d reached his destination. He was lying on a bed in a supermarket, the aisles filled with children sorting through shelves and talking to one another in hushed voices. A few stole glances at Fletcher, sympathy filling their eyes. Fletcher didn’t dare ask which of his companions had survived. But in his heart, he knew only the strongest could survive in this new world. And he had found himself amongst them by a stroke of luck.

 Patrick leant forward to put a cold bag of peas on Fletcher’s forehead, smiling sadly.

 “I’m sorry to hear about your friends. It’s harsh out there,” Patrick offered kindly.

 “Harsh indeed,” Fletcher said, biting his lip. “We were headed here. We almost made it. That’s what makes this so much worse.”

 “Well, at least you’re here now,” Patrick said. “I’ve been assigned as a nurse. Cool, huh? My parents were doctors, I suppose that’s why. But I like to feel like I’m of some use.”

 “I’m very grateful to you,” Fletcher said honestly. His stomach grumbled loudly as though in protest and Patrick chuckled.

 “Here, Alby set you a meal aside. It’s not much. We have to ration the food. Alby has it all worked out,” Patrick said, thrusting a paper plate into Fletcher’s hand, eager to please. The meagre meal set out for Fletcher consisted of an apple, a cluster of grapes and some crackers with the smallest slither of butter on them. But Fletcher found that he didn’t care, stuffing the food in his mouth greedily and sighing as the hunger in his stomach unclenched. Patrick patted him fondly on the back, his cheery smile never faltering. He reminded Fletcher of an excitable puppy, and it made him smile slightly, despite it all.