{"id":243,"date":"2011-05-31T00:00:16","date_gmt":"2011-05-31T07:00:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/?p=243"},"modified":"2012-02-27T23:45:42","modified_gmt":"2012-02-28T07:45:42","slug":"zombies-no-place-like-home","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/zombies-no-place-like-home\/","title":{"rendered":"Zombies 1 – Chapter 1"},"content":{"rendered":"

This is the first chapter in my Vote Your Own Adventure series. Your vote will determine the next step and could end up winning you a book. To read more about the series, click here<\/a> Place your vote in the comment section below and make sure you use a legit email address so I know where to send your book if you win.<\/em><\/p>\n

VOTING FOR THIS CHAPTER IS NOW CLOSED<\/strong><\/p>\n

No Place Like Home<\/strong><\/p>\n

You push your way down the long hallway of the old apartment building. The doors are broken off of most of the suites and you try your best to keep your eyes forward but the sounds of screams and moans fight for your attention. You can hear flesh and limbs being torn away inside the tiny apartments.<\/p>\n

The amount of people pushing against you is overwhelming. Everyone around you is trying to get out and you’re the only one forcing your way in. You fight to see past the bodies as you scramble to find apartment 128. You felt horrible when your parents and younger sister had to move in here. Once your dad had lost his job, this was all they could afford and the stubborn old bastard refused to accept help from anyone \u2013 especially family.<\/p>\n

You catch a glimpse of the door and force yourself through the crowd with great urgency. It’s left open, but hasn’t been torn off. There was a small possibility that your family had managed to escape before things got bad. Maybe they were somewhere in the sea of people, fighting their way out of the building. You place your hand on the door and try to steady your heartbeat. Your other hand grips the wooden baseball bat at your side. You wish you had taken something better but it will have to do. After a deep breath, you push the door open.<\/p>\n

Any hope you had quickly diminishes as you examine the front room. It’s completely totalled. The furniture has been toppled over and paintings have been knocked to the floor. You quickly step inside and shut the door behind you \u2013 securing it with the deadbolt. The thick wood barely muffles the deafening screams coming from the hallway.<\/p>\n

You take a couple of steps into the apartment, weary of the broken glass that litters the floor, and call out to your family. The only response is a low, muffled noise coming from the back of the apartment in your parents’ bedroom. You slowly creep towards the room, tightening your grip on the bat with both hands. You lean your shoulder against the bedroom door and hesitate a moment before pushing it open, terrified of what could be on the other side.<\/p>\n

The white bedsheets are stained with blood and the room is a mess. Your eyes fix on the source of the noise and a wave of fear moves through you. On the floor, near the bed, the figure of a middle-aged man is hunched over the blood-stained carpet. His face is pressed close to a bloody mess laying on the floor. The sound of his chewing turns your stomach. Beneath him, you can barely make out the floral pattern of your mother’s favourite nightgown. A loud sob escapes your lips when you realize what’s happening and you quickly cover your mouth to stifle the noise.<\/p>\n

He stops eating and slowly turns his head towards you. Panic sets in and you dig your fingers into the handle of the bat. He still looks very human but his eyes have completely whitened, masking the pupils completely. You recognize him right away as Mr. Harris \u2013 a good friend of your father.<\/p>\n

The creature that used to be Mr. Harris slowly pushes himself to his feet. Your heart races as you raise the tightly gripped baseball bat above your head. He sways and slowly steps closer to you, fresh blood drips from his darkened lips. You hold your breath and take a step backwards. He screams and rushes towards you, his hands outstretched. You shut your eyes and throw all of your strength into swinging the wooden bat. A tingle moves through your arms as the bat makes contact.<\/p>\n

You slowly open your eyes and see your attacker laying on the floor, his arms flailing wildly in a desperate attempt at regaining his footing. His broken jaw dangles uselessly from his face.<\/p>\n

You struggle to calm your breathing but you catch the sight of your mother’s mangled body next to the bed. Her eyes stare lifelessly into yours as the pupils slowly begin to fade. A wave of grief and anger washes over you.<\/p>\n

A hand tightly grabs your ankle, pulling your focus away from her and back to the monster by your feet. Mr. Harris’ tongue flicks from his disfigured mouth as he pulls himself towards you. With a scream, you bring the bat down hard on his neck. You flinch as the sound of cracking bones echo through the room. His body goes limp and his tongue ceases to move.<\/p>\n

You sigh in relief as your heartbeat echos in your ears. You jump when you hear a loud crash near the front door. You rush towards it with your blood-stained bat. The front door is destroyed and in its place stands 4 figures, three men and one woman. Each one has bright, white eyes and blood stains their faces.<\/p>\n

They sway in the doorway, blocking your only exit. You stumble backwards to take refuge in the bedroom but a low moan from behind stops you in your tracks. It’s coming from your mother.<\/p>\n

You try not to think of what she’s become and scan the room in front of you. You quickly spot the hallway that leads to your sister’s bedroom. You sprint towards it but hit the ground hard as something snags your ankle. You lose the grip on your bat and it rolls out of reach. From your stomach, you look back to see the face of your father staring back at you as he lays on the floor. Most of the flesh is torn from his back and his hand is tightly wrapped around your leg. He lets out a deep moan.<\/p>\n

You kick wildly at him until his grip on you is broken. The group at the door stumbles over the toppled furniture as they attempt to surround you. You take advantage of the delay and quickly push yourself to your feet. You stumble into your sister’s bedroom and shut the door behind you. You press your back against the hard wood to secure it in place.<\/p>\n

Bodies hit the door hard, pushing you forward and opening it slightly. You slam your back against it once again, forcing it closed. You slide down the door onto the floor and press your feet against the leg of the bed in front of you. Hands bang on the door from the other side but you are able to keep it closed. The second you move from your position, there will be nothing stopping them from breaking through.<\/p>\n

You look around at the stuffed bears and other animals that litter the floor. The walls are covered in posters of boy bands and Harry Potter characters. Across from you, above the bed, are two small windows. It would be a tight squeeze but you could get through. The apartment is on the bottom floor of the building. An easy escape.<\/p>\n

Your hope of escape dwindles as you watch filthy hands reach up and press against one of the windows, leaving brown streaks on the glass. A head and shoulders come into view and an elderly woman struggles to stand. Her white eyes fix on you and she presses her face against the glass, smudging it with pink drool. You watch a bald-headed man quickly join her at the window, slapping his hands against it.<\/p>\n

You lift your hand to your face to wipe the sweat from your eyes but pause when you see the bright red liquid dripping from your palm. You look down at the floor and see a fresh trail of blood that leads to the bed. You lean over as far as you can without taking pressure off the door and stare into the darkness underneath the bed. Your heart nearly jumps into your throat when you see the pale face of your younger sister staring back at you.<\/p>\n

Her thin arm reaches out and pulls her tiny body from the shadows. Her eyes are white like the others and her mouth is gaping as she moans deeply. Her lower body is almost completely gone. She drags broken bones and darkened muscle behind her along with strands of torn, pink pajama bottoms.<\/p>\n

You fight back tears as you frantically look for a way out. One of the windows is clear but isn’t far from the one surrounded by zombies. You have no idea how many more are out there and as soon as you take your back from the door, there will be nothing to keep the others out. You are pretty confident that you could push your way back into the room to grab your bat but with the front door gone, there’s no telling how many more are behind the door.<\/p>\n

You stare down at your sister. She is only a few feet away from you and slowly moving closer. You don’t have much time.<\/p>\n

Do you:<\/p>\n

A<\/strong> \u2013 Release your hold on the door and bolt for the window into the unknown before your sister gets to you.<\/p>\n

B<\/strong> \u2013 Force your way back into the main room to retrieve your trusty bat and escape the building the way you came in.<\/p>\n

VOTING FOR THIS CHAPTER IS NOW CLOSED<\/strong><\/p>\n

Be sure to check out Jen Kirchner’s<\/a> Vote Your Own Adventure story: The Relic<\/a> <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This is the first chapter in my Vote Your Own Adventure series. Your vote will determine the next step and could end up winning you a book. To read more about the series, click here<\/a> Place your vote in the comment section below and make sure you use a legit email address so I know where to send your book if you win.<\/em><\/p>\n

∼ Continue Reading ∼<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[25,29],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-243","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-zombies","category-zombies-i"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/243","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=243"}],"version-history":[{"count":15,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/243\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":638,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/243\/revisions\/638"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=243"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=243"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=243"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}