Life After Death (#1)

Chapter Eleven

Only a month had passed since Max had been rescued by his friend Joey, but their relationship had developed into a tight, brotherly bond. Max would never replace John in his mind, but it felt good to be able to share, talk, and most importantly: laugh with someone again. Although Joey was about ten years younger, Max felt that they were very similar people, with similar haunted pasts.

Max sat up in his bed, and looked around the room he had now made his own. His belongings littered the tables and floor; he had never been a tidy person. Max stretched his arms up into the air whilst letting out a muffled yawn, careful not to make any noise which could wake up the slumbering Joey.

He tiptoed towards the bathroom where he had smuggled the bottle of ketchup from the kitchen. Squeezing a pea sized blob onto his hands, he rubbed it across his face, repeating until his head and body looked convincingly bloody. Tearing his plain white t-shirt slightly in the arms and chest, Max took a deep breath before exiting his room. Creeping up towards the door next to his, he took a moment to prepare before crashing through Joey's door with as much force as he could.

The wooden door swung loosely, crashing into the wall the other side, as Max shuffled in, moaning and clicking his teeth. His outstretched arms reaching towards Joey as he stared intensely at the flesh on his neck, growing ever closer.

Joey flew into an upright position, letting out an ear shattering scream of a small girl as he did so, backing up towards his pillow to move as far away from his intruder as possible. Max couldn't stay in character any longer, throwing himself into a ball on the floor in a fit of laughter and hysterics.

"What the fuck was that noise?" Max wheezed between gasping breaths.

"Oh fuck you Max! Fuck you!" Joey shouted, his heart still racing. "You're lucky I don't sleep with a throwing knife, you bastard!" Joey continued.

Max dusted himself down as he pulled himself back to his feet.

"All I know my friend, is that I now make the score 5-3 to moi, which means it's your turn to do breakfast," he said with a cocky grin.

He exited the room before popping his head back round the door frame, "Oh and I'll have my tea with 2 sugars this morning, thank you," he added.

Joey couldn't help but laugh, throwing every insult under the sun towards Max. These prank wars had become common rituals within the house; it was sweet relief to achieve some kind of normality amongst the death that now surrounded them. Max walked with a spring in his step back to his bathroom to wash up before joining his personal chef for breakfast.

"Okay, I have to admit man that was a decent effort," Joey chuckled as he walked into the kitchen. "I hope you realise that the come-back's on though," he warned, clearly already trying to think of ways in which to seek revenge.

"Oh I count on it mate," Max laughed, sipping from his tea.

The two wolfed down their breakfast in no time, and talk turned to their daily plans.

"Got time for a few games before we head out?" Joey asked.

"I don't see why not," Max replied, already on his feet.

Max followed Joey down to the basement, through the door into the large boiler room. There wasn't much to see in here really; the stone walls and floor were bare, with a boiler in one corner and a grubby looking open bathroom to the side. Next to the bathroom sink stood a slightly rotted wooden door, leading up some stairs and into the back garden. In the centre of the room stood the men's new pride and joy, fresh from a recent scavenging mission: a full sized, fold away table tennis table, complete with net, bats and a pack of balls.

They had lugged this back from over three streets away but it had been worth it. Max and Joey were not only fiercely competitive but painfully evenly matched.

"Hey, how come Mr Paranoid built a whopping great big metal door upstairs but you've just left that one as it is?" Max asked as they set up the net.

"Dunno really, I reinforced the outside so it's still strong, but I ran out of scrap metal. It only leads up to the back garden anyway; it's all surrounded by fences, so it should be fine," Joey explained briefly. "Why, does it frighten you?" he teased.

"Oh, shut up and serve," Max laughed.

After three closely fought games, Joey emerged victorious, gracious in the midst of his win.

"You are my bitch!" he repeated over and over again with his hands in the air, bowing to an imaginary crowd.

Max would have been annoyed if he didn't know deep down he would react in the same way. Instead he laughed at his friend as he finished his lap of honour around the table, before tripping over the last leg.

"Smooth," Max said.

"Shall we head off then?" he suggested, moving the subject away from table tennis, knowing that Joey's ego did not need any further inflating.

"Nah, let's take the day off; to be honest, we've searched most the houses anywhere near here anyway. Plus we're good for food for a while," Joey said, clearly keen to spend a day lazing around the house.

"Sounds good to me," Max agreed.

They looked at each other and simultaneously suggested "Beers?" before cracking up at their own synchronicity.

Within five minutes they were each laying on a sofa, with a cold beer in one hand and a newly opened crate on the floor. One beer turned into two, and two beers into five and before long the two men were slurring along to music blaring from a retro juke box in the living room.

"Those clickers out there may be scary as fuck, but they can't do this!" Joey shouted before chugging the rest of his drink and opening a new one.

"I don't know, it would explain why they stumble around so much!" Max yelled in reply, following suit and cracking open another drink for himself.

As night fell, the friends were still drinking away merrily, swapping funny stories from their past and reminiscing. Almost inevitably talk eventually turned more to the future.

"So...how do you think this is all gunna end?" Joey asked profoundly.

"What do you mean?" Max replied, confused.

"Well, think about it; either we have to go, or they do," Joey explained, nodding out the window as he referred to 'them'. "Someone has to be wiped out," he added.

Max paused.

"I've never really thought about it. I guess I just assumed it would all fix itself eventually. I guessed that someone, somewhere would find a kind of cure you know?" Max thought aloud.

"What if they don't?" Joey asked to himself as well as Max.

The mood flipped from jovial to sombre almost instantly as they both reflected on the possibility that this could be it for them. This could be their future.

"Well there's not a lot we can do really is there?" Max asked, breaking the silence.

"Take down as many of the fuckers as we can I guess," Joey laughed.

"And survive," Max said, thinking of John.

"Every life is worth saving man," Joey added.

"I'll drink to that mate," Max smiled, clinking his bottle against Joey's.

Within ten minutes, they were both fast asleep on the sofas. The two friends; the two brothers.