| Aberration |

[DefinitelyNotGuns]

Day 25. Wait, no. Day 27? No. It had to be 30—or what it more?

Fft. Fft. Fft.

What was it—dragging? A mix between a continuous tap and some sort of movement against the wall that adjoined the apartments. It hadn't been there the night before when the young woman had fallen so tired she passed out on a loveseat in the small living room. There was a faux fireplace mantel that was surrounded by book shelves, and most of those book shelves were empty. The research texts were opened to numerous pages—bookmarked, highlighted, riddled with stick notes that had nothing but long underlined words and question marks. Classes had been cancelled weeks ago. These books and notes were far from preparing from the usual graduate school tests that she'd faced over the past year.

Fft. Fft.

There it was again. The young woman's eyes slowly fluttered open with the sound, slowly scanning the room. Confusion. Books. Notes. Sound. The sound. Eliza gasped, quickly throwing the deep red fuzzy blanket off of her and onto the floor as she sprung to her feet. Knife—She grabbed the knife that had been placed on the end table beside the loveseat. There hadn't been too much in the way of noises in the graduate apartment complex on campus. Most people had either fled for their homes at one point or another or were hunkering down in their apartments. She had chosen the later- but that plan was slowly coming to an end. She couldn't remember if it had been a week or a few days since one of those things that made it onto campus, and even into the apartments.

Eliza had always joked that having a second floor apartment would come in handy in zombie movies. People would never have to worry about them getting in through the windows, they wouldn't have to worry about someone seeing them too much, depending on which direction they were facing.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a high pitched scream outside of her window, and while her heart told her not to look, her curiosity got the best of her. And there it was- one of those things chasing after a poor girl. It was like one of those shows that she'd seen on shark week. The small seal trying to swim as fast as it could towards the rock to escape the great white from eating it, and while she would cheer her heart out for the seal, she knew the women had no chance of fighting off that zombie on her own. An unfortunate look back and trip over sent the woman tumbling down, quickly followed by that great white.

"Poor seal…" She muttered.

That was the unfortunate part of the news flashes and the reality that had come into play the past few weeks. Eliza decided that if she was going to be stuck here and die, she might as well make light of the situation. The truth was though, she wanted to get out of there. She wanted to find her family—make sure her brother was alright, and even that he was still alive.

The graduate student turned back to the murder scene of books on her living room floor that she'd been working on. Pages and pages with no answers and more questions piling on. Supposedly the CDC was going to figure out what was going on, but there was hardly any word from them over the past two weeks and with whatever was going on lasting a month, she wasn't sure if they were to be relied on anymore.

Eliza glanced over at her bag, a black hiking backpack. She'd packed it nearly a week ago with the intention of leaving, but when she'd first seen sight of whatever was going on, she got afraid and couldn't leave. But she needed to. The thought of dying in here, alone, curled up on that uncomfortable loveseat and—

Fft. Fft.

"What the hell is that noise?!" She yelled, quickly covering her mouth.

A low groan followed in response, coming from the apartment next door. Students always joked about the paper thin walls that the apartments had, but this was a time where she wished quite the opposite. Her heart began to race as the small taps turned into pounding sounds against her living room wall.

That was when it really hit. She couldn't stay here. ​

 

[ze_kraken]

"Alright - remember, keep low, keep fast, got it?" Logan turned to face his daughter who sat arms crossed in the passenger seat of the worn-and-torn Sedan. "You open that door and you sprint out."

Around their car, which sat parked upon a strip of road among the rows of cookie-cutter suburbia that surrounded Union College, ambled six or seven of the creatures. They were unresponsive ones, shoulders slumped, heads drooping down, eyes fixated to the ground. A few in hospital gowns, others their pajamas. Logan made no move to recognize any of them as students or coworkers, but he couldn't help but let his mind wander as he observed the cluster shuffle about. In the initial panic to flee the area surrounding Manhattan, his small suburb had seen its fair share of conflict as the military blew the bridges over the Mohawk River. This had been after the claim of everything will be alright. He supposed it could be worse - he could have been at the class reunion back in Manhattan, only to find himself hedged in by the military in a slaughterhouse of an island. Now, the only radio broadcasters left entertained two notions: "head north" and "the United States military is pulling back behind the Rockies."

Now, little over two weeks later, with most having fled north or taken the risk of heading west, the walking dead had descended in swarms from Albany. Stragglers from the military's cataclysmic failure to quarantine Manhattan had broken loose, and then Albany's first cases had appeared. The end result was a town infested with droves upon droves of the soulless, lifeless mounds. Union College had all but fallen, and whatever law enforcement had remained behind had been killed, driven off, or become one of them.

"Jane, you got it?"

The girl nodded meekly.

"Alright, then," Logan slowly turned the key into the ignition and the car bucked into life.

Upon hearing the noise of the engine, the cluster of the dead perked up, heads lulling forward, legs awkwardly propelling the once-humans towards the vehicle. Logan punched the car into drive and sped forward down the road, watching in horror as more of them began to emerge from backyards, out of front doorways, and even falling straight out blown-out houses. He counted as many as thirty as his Sedan hurtled down the street, and more kept emerging as they continued.

"There, there's the school," Jane called, pointing left.

Logan eased on the accelerator and applied the brakes, turning the wheel left frantically as he did so. One look to the rear-view mirror confirmed his fear: the growing horde was still following them. The car gave a great shudder and thud as its wheels jolted over the edge where the elementary school's parking lot gave way to a grassy field. Jane lurched forward and caught herself on the dashboard, casting her father a look. After two seconds, Logan slammed on the breaks, bringing the bumpy off-road drive to a sudden halt. The pair grunted at the sudden stop and frantically exited the car. Jane, her backpack already well over her shoulders, baseball bat clung in unsteady hands, looked to Logan for orders. He waved her away and fumbled into his own backpack, pulling the hunting rifle from the backseat as he adjusted the pack's fit by wiggling his shoulders. Ever since news of the outbreak hit, back when it was believed to be containable, he had started to stock-up on ammunition just in case.

Then, with their car parked in the middle of the school's field, the man hoisted the rifle to his side and held it around the center one-handed, grabbing his keys from the car with the other hand. He darted after Jane, who was well ahead of him, and cast an eye back the way they'd come. Their undead pursuers still trailed, but in lesser numbers than before. Once he was a little over twenty feet away from the car, Logan pressed the "alarm" button on the keys and hurled them towards the Sedan. Its horn began blaring loudly and the pair made for it in the opposite direction. All around them came more of the dead, propelling themselves towards the blaring car. Jane and Logan ran up and to the right, double-timing it once their feet hit the pavement again. Jane took the lead, thrusting what few stragglers they encountered away with her bat as they pressed on.

Half a minute passed. Half a minute became a minute, one minute became five, and finally the pair, exhausted, found themselves in the middle of an intersection. Further down the street Logan recognized the sign of the Sheridan Plaza Mall. There, maybe-

"Dad, behind you," Jane gestured with her bat.

He didn't need to look.

"Alright," he paused. "Alright, alright, alrigh-"

"That way!" She called, gesturing to an apartment complex just across the intersection.

With a second wind born of renewed purpose, Jane and Logan darted to the complex and halted as a piercing scream broke. Logan lowered his hand in a gesture to Jane to tell her to remain quiet. She nodded and stood behind her father, makeshift weapon raised to cover their rear. The man raised his rifle in his unskilled hands and peered around the corner. A girl lay sprawled across the ground, wailing in agony as one of kept her pinned on the ground, ripping into her calf. Blood was already pooling across the sidewalk as the creature feasted. He raised his rifle and fit the scope to his eye, about to fire, when two more emerged from around a corner and fell ungracefully to their knees. One last cry of pain sounded before one of them set into her throat, silencing the girl mid-sound. Logan lowered the rifle and vomited, clutching at his stomach as he retched.

"Come on dad, we need to get going," Jane groaned, ignoring his retching.

He nodded and stumbled forward, ignoring the three feasting on the girl. They entered the apartment complex through a kicked-in door and were submerged in darkness broken through with the light of the setting sun. Moans and groans echoed and bounced off the halls, and overhead lights flickered, some shot-out, others simply running on dead bulbs. Without second thought, Jane darted for the stairs directly ahead and Logan followed behind meekly enough. Finding them to not be barricaded, they proceeded upstairs and halted as the groans and shuffles of another one sounded. Intermittent between the groans came the erratic, solid thud... thud..thudthud of the creature banging upon a door.

"Someone's inside," Jane muttered, pointing to a doorway Logan couldn't see. "I'll go get it."

"No-" Logan stated bleerily, but she was already gone. The sound of wood smacking across bone sounded over and over, and finally the crack of a skull followed by the splintering of wood. Logan stumbled up the stairs and saw his daughter standing above the corpse of the creature, bloody remains of her bat clutched in her hands.

"I got it?" She asked, much like a child would.

Logan, about to reprimand her for making such a foolhardy move, was cutoff as the door the zombie had been hammering on suddenly clicked open...

 

[DefinitelyNotGuns]

Fft. Fft.

The sound was then cut off by a bone crushing sound. It echoed through the hall and into the apartment. It was a sound that sent a haunting chill down her spine and brought her back to her anatomy and physiology days of dissecting things. Even more so, when a former professor had donated his body to the University and the neuropsych department decided it would be great to let the graduate students crack open the skull to examine his brain. She cringed at the thought.

The sound meant that something, or someone had found its way up the stairs, and with the loud thud of the body dropping to the floor, she hoped it meant that someone had found her. There was only one way for her to find out…

Eliza walked cautiously over to the door. Would this be the one time where curiosity would get the best of her? She kept imagining herself dead on the floor of this damned apartment, and it was tearing her up inside. Her hand reached towards the handle, clicking the locks and slowly opening the door. Another young woman? Her eyes widened in surprise. Although she was taken back, she was also happy that it wasn't one of those dead… alive… walking things.

How did one greet someone now-a-days? Did they still have small talk at doors and invite them in for a cup of tea? Eliza would have never invited random strangers into her apartment, but from down the hall the groaning sounds could be heard once more.

"Hi, I'm Eliza. Get in," She said frantically, stepping aside and opening the door wide for her and whoever else had been with her. She hoped it wasn't one of the creepy crawlies but the woman seemed to be doing pretty well with taking care of herself or whoever else was with her. While the entrance area to the apartment was kept up with this whole time, it led into her living room of notes and research, which from someone who had spent time surviving and not cooped up in an apartment might seem… Strange. Then again, she felt like she had nowhere else to go.

 

[ze_kraken]

"Hi, I'm Eliza. Get in."

Jane's grip on her useless and splintered weapon slackened and the remains of the bat clattered against the ground as she looked at the other woman. She could feel her hands trembling with the passing adrenaline as her gaze flitted from the woman to the splattered remains of the ghoul's head. A footfall sounded off to her left and she spun on her heels, fighting the urge to let out a small shriek, only to see her father stumbling up the last stretch of stairs. He paid no heed to the bloody remains and staggered over to Jane.

"Jane I-" he paused, casting a glance over to the new face. "Oh, I..."

Logan stammered, unsure of what to say. Jane spoke for him.

"I-i-I'm Jane," she managed to sputter. "Th-this is my dad."

The pair awkwardly shuffled into the small apartment, Logan easing the door shut behind him as he went. His initial shock and anguish faded, the older man regained his composure and set aside his belongings in the entrance way, planting the butt of the rifle against the ground and leaning it sideways against the wall. His backpack followed a moment later. Jane, without so much attention to detail, kicked off her shoes and tossed her backpack aside with no heed.

As they entered the living room, bombarded in a stack of papers, books, and general clutter, Logan gave a low whistle.

"I mean," he began, finding it difficult not to laugh. "Finals weren't technically canceled. I appreciate your dedication..."

He let the comment hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

"Look, I don't know what we were thinking, barging in like this - if you can't keep us, and I can't blame you if you can't, then we can go on our way. It's just..." He fumbled for the right words. "It's just that I don't feel anyone has any idea on what to do, and...Yeah. That's.... That's about it."

What could he say? That he had a plan, and that's why he and his daughter had randomly stumbled here? Their plan was as thoughtful as "make noise" and then... and then what? They had barely made it five blocks. How were they going to proceed south towards Manhattan or cross a river with all the bridges blown?

 

[DefinitelyNotGuns]

Seeing the blood on the weapon and the thing she was certain used to be her neighbor now dead outside the from door should have been terrifying for her, when it was really more interesting and provided relief that the thing wouldn't be able to torment her anymore. To her, the pair looked surprised to see someone else alive. Was human life few and far between already? For her it set off a beacon of hope that maybe, just maybe she would be able to get out of this mess. Somehow dying alone in her college apartment felt less than ideal.

"Hi Jane. Hi uhhh… Dad."

The stack of papers had started with studying for defense of her own research, but then with the passing days it turned into a whole other research project in and of itself. As she listened to the man speak she found herself shifting from side to side every few seconds. She was listening to him but she was also having an internal battle of what she was going to do. These two people had weapons, and she had nothing to defend herself but kitchen knives and maybe one of the thick Psychology textbooks.

"No—you're welcome to stay. I… Can't really offer you much in the ways of food. I've been soaking ramen in cold water and eating what canned food I have left but… College budget didn't help before things went to hell in a handbasket and I'm regretting it now." Eliza stifled a laugh at herself. She was a poor graduate student beforehand and now the world was trying to make her more painfully aware of that. She looked from Logan to Jane and back, "

"I wish I could say I was dedicated enough to have this all be work for finals, and it started that way but… This is all me trying to figure out what the hell is going on." Eliza shrugged, hoping that they wouldn't make the decision that she was crazy and run away. She realized that most of the seating in the living room was covered with books or her blankets. "Oh!"

The girl moved quickly to rearrange the books and put them on the coffee table with the other papers and pull her blankets off and onto a pile next to the couch. "Here," She gestured to the couch and recliner chair while she decided to sit on top of her papers on the coffee table. "I mean… How bad is it out there?"

Eliza had seen things from her windows, but had never thought of stepping out there until today, and even then she wasn't sure if she was going to be able to do such a task alone. She knew that the only hope she had was to perhaps ask these folks to bring her. Maybe practicing for her defense for that week would come in hand.

 

[ze_kraken]

"I'm Logan," the older man explained to Eliza, moving to seat himself at the base of the couch, grunting with relief as he leaned his back against it.

Jane followed suit and curled up on the couch, feebly pulling a blanket over herself and casting a look to Eliza.

"It's not great," her voice cracked momentarily. Clearing her throat, she repeated her statement. "It isn't great. We almost got swarmed on the way here, and I think they're starting to reach us from Manhattan, what little of them made it past the barricade before the bridges were blown. And they've just sort of festered here, 'ya know? No one's getting rid of them and...."

A pause followed. Jane swallowed a lump in her throat and took in a sharp breath.

"And they're starting to horde up," her father continued as Jane collected herself. "We can't go south - there's too much ground around Manhattan - but going north we'll have to cross the river."

He folded his arms and stroked his chin, deep in thought. In that time, Jane stretched and readjusted the blanket, fumbling to wrap it back over her feet. Frustrated - the blanket wouldn't go back over - she gave up and rolled over to face the back of the couch. Logan smiled ruefully, momentarily seeing her as a young girl again, before the image faded. Then a practical question entered his mind.

"How many do you think are in this apartment?"