Chapter III-Knock a zombie at your door
"Tick tock, tick tock," is the annoying noise that the clock in the hallway makes incessantly. The silence in the house allows me to hear it clearly.
Now it's ten o'clock at night, and my uncles haven't returned. As a result, I'm still locked in the room without food. My stomach hurts from hunger, and the only option I have to get out of here is to jump out the window or try to go to the next room. If I jump, I could break a leg or something worse. If I try to go to the other room, the risks are the same, but I'm more likely to get out in one piece. It's decided; I'm going to go to the next room.
Sighing, I move my body completely through the window and hold onto the edges and wall, walking calmly across the roof to the other window. It is closed, but fortunately not locked. So, balancing myself, I open it and quickly enter, closing it behind me. Dudley's room is a disgusting mess, with plates, glasses, and empty snack packets scattered around. I quickly walk through the place, avoiding stepping on anything strange on the floor, and leave, closing the door.
Walking down the dark corridor, I imagine how things must be in the city because my relatives haven't returned until now. The television footage was portraying chaos. I think, while I'm eating, I'm going to watch the news.
"What am I going to eat?" I grumble, walking into the kitchen. "I think I'll make some sandwiches."
I take the sliced bread from the cupboard and the chicken breast that was seasoned in the fridge, lettuce, cheese, tomato, and ham, putting everything on the counter. I fry some pieces of chicken and assemble the sandwiches, making three and a can of Coca-Cola. With all ready, I go to the living room and put things on the coffee table and sit on the floor behind it, open the Coca-Cola, and take a sandwich and take a bite while I absentmindedly flip through the television channels looking for some news. I ended up finding one with live news, in which a young reporter is on the streets of Atlanta, sampling the city's situation.
There were crashed cars, people running in panic, with others following them more slowly, and others being attacked. The reporter was in panic, quickly telling no one to leave the house until further news, that the hospitals, fire department, and police station were working to contain the infected. She was going to say something, but her speech was cut off by an infected man grabbing her and biting her neck, tearing off a piece of her flesh. The cameraman dropped the camera on the ground, screaming, and ran. The last thing the camera recorded was the reporter's lifeless eyes.
I stare at the black television screen in horror, until everything hits me at once, making me drop the sandwich and run to the bathroom, vomiting what I had eaten. When I have nothing left to get out, I sit on the floor, trying to regain strength.
Some time later...
I ended up falling asleep on the bathroom floor. A quick look at my wristwatch tells me it's one in the morning. I hope it was all just a nightmare, I think as I go back to the living room, but the television on with an emergency message playing tells me the opposite. Scenes began to repeat in my mind, making me sit tremblingly on the sofa, fear penetrating every cell in my body, making me hyperventilate, my pulse racing, and my ears muffled, until a loud knock on the door echoes throughout the house, followed by another and another loud sound, making me stand up in panic, looking at the door in fear.
A growl and another knock make me approach the door silently, leaning on it to listen, hearing only low growls. Curiously, I look through the peephole and see a woman of medium height with a disfigured face full of blood.
There's an infected person at my door...