Chapter 1
The snap of a branch. The hint of a groan. The stench of rotting flesh.
Remus was perched in the bush, soft undergrowth silencing the crunch of leaves under his feet as he waited. Watched and waited for the growls to subside. Even the slightest movement on his part would have him meeting his fate; he would be facing an unruly and vicious death. He shuddered at the sheer thought of it.
It was your regular zombie: a slow yet well-crafted walk, guttural groans that sometimes haunted Remus in his sleep, flesh and limbs dripping with fresh blood. Whether the blood was theirs or a victim’s, Remus never quite fancied finding out. He was more focused on getting away from them, rather than closer. Killing the undead with no weapons to speak for but his scarred hands, well, it wasn’t really his best option.
So he hid. Bushes and trees, he had gathered, were the safest to escape the clutches of the walking cadavers. Barren houses were a close second, but the spaciousness of them left Remus on edge, too much of a perimeter to ensure it would be secure.
Another life or death factor was groups. Travelling with people, having to keep out for the deadweight, scavenging enough food to feed everyone without a fight for a piece? Not happening. Remus had been forced to be alone before the virus broke out, and now he’d stay alone by choice. It was a dog eat dog world - more like zombie eat human kind of world - and Remus valued his life. Sticking to himself meant his chances of survival were much more possible.
Remus sucked in a breath as the walker trudged past, one he regretted taking once the taste of decay refuged on his tongue. He fought back a cough. Eventually, the zombie passed by, finding something in the distance that spiked its interest, and Remus clambered to his feet. Catching sight of his surroundings, he ran.
Food was his sole target. Living off berries and insects in the forest was only able to provide him with so much stamina. If he wanted to make it to The Haven, then he’d need all the strength he could get.
A decrepit sign poking out from the array of shops caught his eye. Most of the letterings had weathered away but Remus could make out the three markings or ‘C O ‘ S’. A Tesco’s, he assumed. More like hoped and prayed. The white and blue outline of the building answered his prayers and he silently thanked no one in particular for his discovery.
Glass was scattered everywhere, a telltale sign that he was not the first to come across the supermarket in search of something edible, and most definitely would not be the last. Remus climbed over the barrier of the window and winced as the shards crunched under his feet. He still had to be quiet. No where would stay empty for long.
Aisles of rotting food and boxes that had been torn apart in a frenzied haste filled his view. Remus was quick to find the tin cans that adorned the lower shelves and he shoved them into his rucksack, leaving room for other supplies he could possibly find. Batteries were strewn on the floor and he collected them all to keep his flashlight alive for as long as possible.
He didn’t hear it at first.
Remus was still searching through the shop, eyes scanning every inch for something useful until a low groan echoed from behind. He froze. It groaned again, this time having inched much closer. With nothing to defend himself, Remus did what he always had to. He turned and fled.
The storage room door was the closest exit and he forced himself through it, the rust of years long neglect proving it difficult. He didn’t stop to see if it was still behind him; they always followed until they had either killed or been killed. In Remus’ predicament, he hoped he’d be the outlier in the equation. Being mutilated and eaten in the back room of a Tesco’s wasn’t top on his list of ways to go. As if he had an ideal way to go anyway.
Life, however, had its cruel ways of making sure Remus was never the one with the upper hand as he soon realised the door he had come through happened to be the only door in the room.
The walker advanced, half of its face torn away to reveal remnants of a skull, moans increasing in volume. Remus would have found it funny if it wasn’t for the fact that he was literally about to die. His back felt the contact of solid concrete and he found himself wedged in between rows upon rows of delivery boxes. The zombie reached for Remus.
Well, fuck.