Clarkesville (Chandler Riggs)

Chapter 4

I didn't understand how everyone was gone already.

As I began to step off the carpet of A-12 and onto the blue tiled floor, I thought about how many people would be already bitten, infected, isolated. Alone just like me, in a matter of three whole hours.

My backpack was slung over my shoulder, the scissors fiddled between my fingers, and my green eyes scanned the airport, searching for the newest deadly signs of what was to come in this world.

The small lump on my forehead became sore to the touch as I felt around on the sharp pain.

I limped uncomfortably in my Vans sneakers. My blonde hair was loosely put down; and my clothes desperately needed to be changed into something looser; something more flexible.

As soon as I reached the first restaurant where the first...thing...came out of, I began to be more cautious.

What if there were more, scattered about the entire airport? What if I were to turn the corner, and become swallowed in a heard of them?

My heart pounded. But my muscles and brain slowed it. I was ready for this; I always have been.

I took a few deep breaths, and slowly peered around the corner. There were very few of them flinching and standing around.

One of them-a male-must have heard something to my left. Each of them began growling and moaning. They chained together, walking, and then jogging out of their section, which was A-9.

Their clothes were loosely draped over them; with tears and blood stains and just random dirt spots. Although most of them looked like normal people, recently turned and barely beaten.

My reaction was to snake behind the wall that connected between A-12 and the nearest restaurant; Froyo-World.

As my body flourished into chills and sweats, I waited for all of the things to pass. I already hated calling them things. Naming the dead people Walkers (as in The Walking Dead) would be too odd; too convenient.

There were Romers, Geeks, Biters, Deadies, and plain old Zombies. But all of those seemed... Different. They moved so floppy, and yet their joints were so stiff.

I settled on calling them Stiffs. Or a Stiff. It fitted better.

The first couple of Stiffs entered A-10, and more of them became visible on the other side. They made their way out of the hallway, and almost all of them passed, except for two or three, who weren't bothered by the noise.

Twitches came through me. My fingers fumbled with the scissors. My eyes blurred with tears; and my whole body began to shake. I felt like I was having a seizure, except it hurt a whole lot more.

"Mother!" I croaked, but the cry only came out as a small gasp. "Mother!" My free hand held to the wall while I pointed the scissor blades toward the sight before me.

It was her.

She wore the same clothing; her gray short sleeve t-shirt, her black jeans and red Uggs. Her black headband still held up her bangs, just like how it did about five hours ago; leaving me from the plane.

But her jeans had spots of red on it, her t-shirt had a rip under her left breast, and she only wore one of those red Ugg boots. Her hair was ratted and messy, her headband also covered in red; which I suspected was someone else's blood.

And her face; it was sunken. Her eyes; they no longer glowed a beautiful sea green; but a neon yellow with blue spots.

It wasn't my mother anymore. But I couldn't stop calling for her. "Mother! Moth-"