Reality's Escape: a collection of short stories

An Apocalypse

My first time ever writing this kind of story... I'm sorry it isn't "racy" enough; at 11:00pm it was pretty scary enough for me!

A girl sat in the cellar, arms wrapped around her knees, shivering despite the two sweaters she wore. It was hard to tell her age by the look on her face, so haggard it had become.

A boy sat beside her. He fiddled with the lamp in his hands, then switched it off. "Get some sleep, Tara."

She mechanically felt for where he was and lay down on the cement floor, feeling his body heat as he lay down next to her. "You need it too, Kyle."

A mirthless chuckle sounded in the dark. She didn't answer it.

They awoke sweating, panting, crying, clinging to each other. Each was the other's only remnant of past life.

What had happened? Their nightmares were so mixed with reality that they weren't sure anymore. It all boiled down to this: blood had been spilled on the front yard and their family was nowhere to be found. No one they knew would answer their phones. When a crowd of armed civilians marched down the street, they had hidden in the cellar.

It had been... they didn't know how long. A day? A week? The searching footsteps had long left the house above them.

Kyle turned the lamp on and walked stiffly to the front of the cellar. "What are you hungry for?"

Tara didn't respond.

He came back with three jars. "We've got pickles, strawberry jam, and green beens. Come on, sit up. Let's eat."

"What's the point?"

Kyle sat down next to his sister and looked into her puffy, bloodshot eyes. "To be honest, I don't know."

Tara sat up, fished her knife out of her pocket and unfolded it. She ran her finger along the blade. "It wouldn't be that hard. Juliet did it."

"Tara. No." He reached for the knife, and his strong fingers pried it out of hers. "You're not Juliet."

She watched as he opened the jar of jam and poured a little out onto the lid. When he held it out, she took it and licked it. The sweetness sparked something in her mind. There was still will to live.

"There we go. Let's have some green beans too." He opened the jar, and they both ate. After the first few bites, it was all as delicious as sawdust. What use were tastebud when your family wasn't around the table with you? Still, they had each other, and the food settled nicely in their stomachs.

Kyle waited till all the beans were gone before he spoke again. "We've got to do something."

She closed the empty jar. "You don't want to die in a hole, just like Thorin— "clawing for breath", is that it?"

"Tara, stop it. You need to think about real life now. We've got to be here for a reason."

"I'm sorry. You're right." She took a deep breath and tried to organize her fractured mind.

"God always has a plan. So there was a reason you and I were out in the field when the zombies came."

"We still don't know that they were zombies."

"Does any other term come to mind? Perfect marching, carrying guns and pitchforks and rolling pins, systematically checking every house along the street?"

"Soldiers, maybe."

"Yeah, sure. Soldiers without control of their own brains. Zombies."

"Fi— Sh." Tara's heart jumped into her throat, where it rattled uncontrollably. Kyle flicked the lamp off. There were no voices, but the upstairs door had opened. Footsteps descended the stairs. The door to the office gave its telltale little squeak.