The Road To 10k

No Mercy

Turning into a zombie isn't the worst thing in the world, no that title goes to the fools that have to watch you turn. The ones that see the bite, watch your pain and have to give out mercy to the one person they love or in my case...not give mercy.

"I can't...I can't!"

My fathers bloody fingers wrapped around my shirt collar and he pulled me in close, "Don't let me one of them Tommy." I could hardly make out his face through the tears in my eyes, "I let your Mama down, it was too hard, but Tommy."

This was the first time we talked about Mom in months. It wasn't like this, Dad thinks he let her down but there really wasn't anything he could do. You couldn't have a gun in the hospital back then and no one would of believed he was killing a zombie. No, Mom was one of the first zombies from what Dad told me. She was sick with cancer, lying in her bed with my father's head on her chest. He must have been in so much bliss listening to the beating of her heart and then bliss faded to panic when the beats stopped...then terror when she reached for him. He fought free of her but the Doctors kept saying she wasn't dead, that he was delusional...but Dad saw in Mom that day what I saw in him that night...Death's Eyes.

"I can't..." a twig broke in the distance and my attention turned toward the darkness of the woods. The headlights of the truck felt like the only safety in this cold apocalypse but really it was just a lighthouse showing all the world where we were, "Hello?" I said softly.

The rustling got closer and my father's hold grew tighter. As I scanned the woods looking for any incoming danger I didn't realize the danger that was turning right under my nose. I felt the stale breath on my cheek and I watched through the corner of my eye as his jaw opened wide. My elbow swings back and bashed into Dad's jaw. The blow pushed him back but only for a moment as he clawed forward at me. I crawled back on my ass and fumbled with my rifle in my hand. His dead eyes were fixed upon me as I watched his mindless body fight it's way from the ground and up onto shaky legs.

"Dad? Dad? Get back!"

My words were nothing more than that, words. Zombies don't care about your tone, your tears or your emotion. You might as well be barking at a brick wall, because all they care about is that sweet flesh on your bones. My story would have ended there if it wasn't for Randall...my savior and devil.

"Hey boy! Y'all alright?" A voice called out from the darkness.

"Help!"

That's a funny word, it comes with so many things tied to it. Because when you get that help you've been crying for, then you have to grateful, then you feel you have to pay it back. I heard a hollow bang sound and then I watched as a black net smacked into my father. It wrapped around him and set him flying into the tall grass.

"Hey, kid-" his hand touched my shoulder and I quickly recoiled, "It's alright...I'm not gonna hurt you. Is that your dad?" I nodded at his words, "Okay, well my name is Randall and I'm gonna get you and your dad somewhere safe okay?"

He put his hand out and paused waiting for my name. I took his hand into mine and he pulled me to my feet, "I'm Thomas," I said softly.

"Nice to meet you Thomas...now help me get your dad in the trunk."

To Be Continued