Waiting on a Friend for the End of the World

Alice Walker

Seven days later was when it all went to hell.

"Alice," her dad told her as calmly as he could, griping her shoulders and looking her in the eyes with badly concealed fear. "I need you to go into the basement and not come out until I tell you too."

"Bu-"

"Your mother and I will be fine," he insested, pushing her through the doorway. "I'm going to grab her and we'll be back here before you know it."

She nodded as her dad began closing the door.

"Lock the door and don't let anyone in until I get back," he told her, voice leaving no room to argue.

"Dad," she spoke softly.

He paused just before he shut the door behind him.

"I love you."

"I love you too, kiddo," he responded before closing the door shut behind him.

Alice waited and waited after she'd locked the door behind her dad, doing her best to honnor her promise. Staying put long after the screaming began and long after it stopped until finally she couldn't wait any longer. 

She wished she'd stayed and rotted like the rest of them. It would have saved her a lot of trouble in the long run.

When she exited the basement she found her once brightly lit home covered in harsh shadows and blood stains. Night had fallen and the electricity had gone out a couple of hours before it started.

Once she arrived in the kitchen, which was only a few steps from the basement, she was greeted with the site of her dad laying broken and bloody on the floor with another body on top of him. She could see the blood beneath the dead woman's fingers and even more on her clothes. She could tell they had been nice clothes once. There was a knife sticking out of the back of her head as well, the handle covered in red. It was her dad's hunting knife.

Alice didn't want to look at her dad, but she couldn't help herself. His face was frozen and the corners of his eyes were scrunched up like he was in pain. Blood oozed from his mouth and his intestines were heald tightly in the woman's right hand. The entire middle of his torso was gone, probably inside the woman's stomach.

Alice puked up what little lunch she had eaten that day until she felt empty too.

Wiping her mouth, Alice did her best to collect herself. She counted to ten, breathing in and out like her therapist told her to do when she felt frustrated or scared. It did nothing to help her, but it was at least something to hold on to.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, not bothering to wipe the tears from her cheeks, before walking away from the kitchen as fast as humanly possible.

Alice figured she was safe from the horrors of seeing the dead as she stumbled into the living room. She was wrong. Her mom was sitting in her chair, weak from chemo treatments, the last time Alice had seen her and that was where she still was. Only this time she was missing a large portion of her neck. Her dad must have stopped that thing before it could finish snacking on her mother.

A part of Alice would always hate her mom for that. For indirectly killing her dad; she would forever hate that part of herself.

Blood covered her mom's orange blouse and Alice didn't inspect further. She didn't want to see it. She didn't want to believe it. She rushed from the room and ran up stairs into her own, slamming the door shut behind her. Her breath came to her in shallow pants as she began to count backwards from one hundred.

Ten, nine, eight.

She let out a breath once she had finished, feeling only slightly better, but it had been enough to get her thinking again.

"I can't stay here," she said quietly to no one.

She looked around at everything, mentally determining what she needed before dashing into the hall closet to grab a duffle bag. She returned to her room shortly after and carelessly began shoving clothes at random into her bag. She also managed to snag a photo album, her favorite stuffed animal ( a dirty old cat toy she'd had since she was a kid), and the pocket knife, which had rested soundly under her pillow up until that moment.

After she'd finished packing she looked around the room regretfully at all the things she couldn't take with her.

The seconds stretched by like hours before she quickly turned around and made her way back downstairs.

I can do this, she thought to herself as she slowly made her way back into the kitchen, bracing herself for the site that would soon be before her once more.

However, when she arrived her dad was no longer there. He was gone leaving nothing but a dead woman and a large blood stain behind. Alice decided not dwell on it and moved quickly through the kitchen, not daring to waste a second. She gathered as much food and water as her bag would allow as well as the first aid kit under the sink and the kitchen knives.

When she had finished she made a break for the front door; however, someone had gotten there before her. Her mom stood before her, blocking the doorway. She had a gleam in her eye that told Alice she was out for blood.

Blood trickled out from the hole in her neck and red seemed to cover her like a second skin. Her dark brown wig was no longer sitting neat upon her head, having been replaced by a  bloody handprint. Her kind eyes had been replaced by a hungry spark. Nothing was left of her mom except the need to hunt and eat.

"No," Alice begged, fresh tears falling from her eyes. "Please don't make me do this."

Her parents had explained to her what was needed to be done if anything like this happened. She just never thought it would.

"Mom... please," Alice cried, a knife clutched tightly in her fist.

Her mom continue to walk forwards, her arms outstretched. Alice didn't dare to move until she was right in front of her.

"I love you," she chocked as she brought down the knife into her mom's skull, reminding herself that her mother was already dead.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Alice allowed herself a few moments to stand there and hold her mom's head against her chest while gravity called her body to the floor.

"I love you," she wimpered as she carefully lowered her bloody head to the floor, gently extracting the knife from her head.

She stood up and stared at her mother for a long moment before shouldering her duffel bag and running to the front door, trying to put as much distance between her and her childhood home she could.

As she ran, Alice pretended not to notice the quiet and the blood. So much blood. The neighborhood was vacant, save for the dead that followed Alice as she ran. It would be a long while before she stopped running.