To The Grave

Chapter 1. Marty. Day 32.

I had never seen the stars, not in their full glory. Lights across miles and miles of towns created a thick layer of light pollution blocking out most traces of the universe surrounding us.

Now I could look up and see every star. I flicked cigarette ash onto the roof, watching it slide down. I could hear a slight groan from down the street. I watched as a small group of rotters stumbled down the street. Everyone else was asleep. Or dead.

It'd been a month. A month since the last time I left my house. A month since anything had felt normal. I grabbed the bottle out of my lap, screwing the red metal lid off. It slipped from my fingers, my eyes watching it roll down the roof. I pulled the bottle to my lips, tilting it almost all of the way back. I shook my head, swallowing the cinnamon whiskey.

The window behind me opened, as my best and only friend leaned out. "How's my favourite alcoholic doing." Randall's hand reached out, holding his fingers out for the cigarette. I pushed it towards him, feeling it move from between my own fingers.

"There's a group of them moving down the street." I whispered, pointing to the small herd of rotting corpses. Their feet shuffled, still mostly intact, carrying them slowly through the road.

He nodded, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "We've seen worse." He was right. We'd seen so much worse than a group of four who hadn't even noticed us. I felt my stomach begin to churn with the thoughts of what we had been through.

I turned around pulling myself closer to the window. Randall's hands wrapped around my arm, pulling me in. I tumbled into the house, falling onto the futon. He moved back out the window, continuing to smoke the cigarette. I made my way through the small dark room, pulling the door open.

I stumbled to the bathroom, pushing the door open faster and harder than I intended. I hovered over the toilet, feeling the contents of my stomach make their way back up. My hands held onto the sides of the bowl as I continued vomit. I moved away, wiping the sleeve of my flannel on my mouth. I moved my head to the ground, feeling my limbs grow heavy and I closed my eyes.

I could feel sand mixing into my clothing, but I was too drunk to care. "Hey, McFly, who's house is this?" A soft voice asked between long laughs.

I looked up at the girl, shaking my head to focus. "Uh- my grandparents. They're in Canada for New Years." I took another sip of the mixed drink in my hand.

"Isn't that an American holiday? They don't celebrate it in Canada." The same voice said in her typical stupid voice.

I thought about it for a second, looking at the girl, "No, I'm pretty sure it becomes a new year almost everywhere." I stood up watching Randall pick his girlfriend up, throwing her over his shoulder. He rushed through the backyard, throwing her into the pool. He jumped in behind her, causing a loud splash.

Courtney ran up beside me, her hands pulling me closer to the deck. I stumbled forward, following her to the stairs leading to the beach. "I'm not going into the ocean when I'm drunk."

She stopped, thinking for a moment. "Why not."

"Because there are living things in there, and I don't want to be touched by one of them." I looked back at the stairs, hearing laughter coming from everyone up there. "I would rather die than have to go into the ocean right now, Courtney."

She shook her long blonde hair in disappointment. "You're such a bitch, Marty." She pushed past me walking up the stairs.

"Okay, but like how?" I shouted after her.

She turned, glaring down at me in the darkness. "You never want to have any fun with anyone."

"Sorry, I don't think getting your legs grazed by what's probably a shark is fun." I reached into my pocket pulling out a pack of cigarettes, choosing one. I placed it in my lips pulling out a dark red lighter. The flame flickered to life, touching the end of the cigarette.

"Hey Marty, is there more beer?" A voice shouted down to me. I looked up at Calvin, seeing him leaning over the railing.

"Yeah, it's in the fridge in the garage." I looked back down to his twin sister, seeing her standing now. I moved past her up the stairs. "Here, I'll show you."

I rushed up the stairs, walking quickly to the house. A skinny long arm reached out from the pool grabbing the cigarette from me. "Thanks pal." Randall shouted.

Calvin ran in after me, looking around at the house. I held the garage door open for him, entering after him. "Do your grandparents know you're throwing a shindig here?"

I laughed, handing him a can of beer. I grabbed a few more, moving them awkwardly in my arms to fit more. "No, and they won't." I stood up, dropping a can on the ground.

I looked down watching a large puddle of foam form around it. I set the rest of the cans on a shelf, running my fingers through my hair. "Fuck."

"We should clean up the mess first, Marty." Calvin picked up the spraying can tossing it in a trash bin.

I remained still, processing the words. I grabbed a paper towel roll, pulling a few sheets out. I yanked, only dropping the roll on the ground. I looked down at the roll, dampened by the liquid it rolled into.

I threw the sheets in my hand on the ground, letting out a frustrated sigh. I pushed my fingers through my hair, looking at the bigger mess. "Your mom taught you to clean things weird." He picked up the paper towels, cleaning the foam quickly and tossed everything in the trash. He stood up beside me.

"Thanks." The words barely escaped my mouth before Calvin leaned forward pressing his lips against mine. He pulled away, pushing his hair out of his face. His hand reached behind me grabbing a beer quickly. He cracked it open, pushing the garage door open.

"Wait, Calvin." The door swung closed, drowning out my words. I rushed out to the deck. Courtney and Audrey were laughing at their phones while Randall shivered under a towel following after Calvin.

"You're leaking tears over beers once again." The song came to an end, the music pouring out of speakers the twins brought.