Chapter 1, Poor Alisa is hard at work, oblivious to the fact her town is been destroyed while she sits bored, behind the counter at the local corner shop. It’s only when she fails to get any customers, that she finally becomes curious.
Unfortunately Alisa’s luck seems to go from bad to worse as the day passes, and it’s only once her place of work gets robbed that Alisa finally realises, the quiet town of Hirkland is now no more than a ghost town, full of hungry, aggressive corpses. Walking corpses, which would stop at nothing to get a taste of warm living flesh.
***WARNING*** Contains some violence, blood and gore.
A screaming siren flies past me, startling me as I notice my good neighbour, Mr Hupy yelling at passers by.
“Have you heard the dead are walking!” he repeats this a few times then desperately grabs hold of my bag, pulling me tightly into his grasp. Hupys hands are big and rough; he was a builder before his retirement and seems to have a lot of strength for an elderly man.
“Alisa, lovely little Alisa,” I squirm feeling very uneasy in his hands. “Don’t leave your home, lock all your doors … hide Alisa, hide!” he shakes me slightly while giving me his crazy warning.
Looking up toward his face, I beg him to let me go. I can see his eyes are angry they look so disturbed but I can also see it, I can see some truth in them and that is what frightens me the most.
Wriggling surprisingly easy out of his hold, I push Mr Hupy away from me. As I do this he instantly turns and grabs another passer by, repeating his warning.
“What a crazy man, “I whisper to myself while neatening my now crumpled shop apron and flicking my bag back over my shoulder. The death of his wife has obviously taken a toll on the poor guy, I think to myself.
I decide to look back at Mr Hupy who is currently harassing a couple, warning them advising them. I come to the conclusion that it would be best to leave them to it and hurry up to the corner shop, my place of work.
Tucking escaped strand’s of hair behind my ear on my way to work, sad memories of Hupy’s wife fill my head.
“Alisa honey, here I made you some cookies,” smiling a very large, proud smile, she hands me a tub. The tub is filled with freshly baked cookies, so I happily pull the lid aside and breath in the sweet aroma.
“Yum thank you Mrs Hupy,” she Nods at me, smiling away even though her eyes are droopy and sad.
“How are you feeling, any better?” I desperately want her to say she is feeling well, but I know she can’t, I can see she is getting worse as the days pass and it breaks my heart.
“Oh Alisa, I’m fine hunny, it’s just a cold. Don’t you go worrying about me now dear,” as she is saying this, Hupy pulls out a handkerchief and wipes her nose. I notice it has begun bleeding, I also notice she is trying to hide the fact it is bleeding from me.
“Alisa I must go check lunch, I’m cooking up my Thomas his favourite … roast Pork,” keeping her handkerchief held tightly upon her nose, she stumbles slightly toward her door. She groans as she pulls on the door handle, as the door gives in and allows her to, she shuffles inside her house, shutting and locking the front door behind her.
I don’t know why I do but feeling curious I stare round at her door, only for a few moments. I notice Mrs Hupy has paused at the other side; I can see this through the frosted window. I continue to be nosey and stare, in that very moment her hand rises and slaps the door window, making me gasp and jump. She smears a small amount of blood in the shape of a hand on it, than waddles deeper into her house out of sight.
I shudder at the memory; it was such a strange thing to see her do. Sadly I never saw Mrs Hupy after that, mum told me she passed away later that night. It was sad news; Mrs Hupy was a lovely, kind old lady.
It has been two hours now since the last customer I had served; he was a regular in the shop, an elderly man with a scruffy comb over and an awful worn cardigan. The cardigan strangely looked as old as the man himself.
Chucking a loaf of bread and this week’s local news paper on the counter, the scruff of a man decides to lean against the counter and smile, revealing grubby, wonky tea stained Teeth.
“That will be one pound and thirty one pence please sir,” I say to him. The scruffy old man places his hand into his trouser pockets; he rummages around obviously taking his time before pulling out a twenty pound note.
‘Really,’ I think to myself. ‘A twenty pound note for just a loaf of bread and paper, this really is not my day.’ Grudgingly I take the note and count the change as I return it. I let it drop into his hand, keeping as much distance from the Old man as I could manage.
“Here are ten, fifteen … eighteen pounds and sixty-nine pence”.
“Thank you beautiful Alisa, have a good day,” the old man winks at me and goes on his way, scurrying out of the shop door. He was the last customer of the day, my last customer ever for that fact.
I turn my wrist and look down at my watch, its midday and no customers. So bored I begin re-arranging the counter, I soon notice granny Annie hasn’t been to check on me. She is always bugging me, whingeing and always finding some way to threaten me with a warning.
Annie my boss decided she didn’t like me after I turned down a date with her son Jake. Jake is an arrogant, self centred bully. He often comes to the shop to buy a bottle of pop, which is obviously a reason to see me and attempt to win me over with his cheesy chat up lines. I mean no normal person returns to a shop, sometimes three times daily to buy pop.
“Alisa you look stunning today, do you know what else would look stunning on you? - Me,” that was one of his worst and most cringey chat up lines to date. I really do try so hard to block Jake from my memory, although sometimes I find when I’m bored he is still there, grinning away.
Finally removing Jake from my thoughts today, my eyes wonder up towards the shop window, I can see blue flashing lights, hear shouting and screams even. I desperately want to go see what is happening outside. So I discreetly edge over to the window display, switching around advertisements I peek out of the window … a car crash is what I see.
I always thought people drove too fast on that road, maybe I should let Granny Annie know, It’s probably why hardly anyone has been in most the day.
So off I go, over to the back office to check if the Annie is lurking in there. I peak my head around the door, ‘no she isn’t in here I whisper to myself,’ but what I do find is the phone off the hook. Strange I think to my self as curiosity takes over and I go to pick it up. Placing it against my ear, I don’t hear anything, nothing not even a dial tone so I pop it back on it‘s hook. As I place the phone back the headlines on the computer screen catch my eye and my heart, terrified skips a beat or two even.
HN Headlines stand still on the screen in capital letters they read THE DEAD ARE ALIVE. I for some reason smile an uneasy smile, what a strange news article. I can’t help myself; I laugh nervously spluttering a small bit of saliva from my mouth. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, not very lady like I know! I read on.
Gosh If granny Annie caught me in here I’d be done for, but I just can’t help myself. Sitting down on the squeaky office chair, I grab the mouse and scroll more into the story.
5am this morning Hirkland Hospital’s recently deceased, rise from their deathly state to begin murdering and eating innocent hospital staff and their patients.
Police were called to attend the scene, yet failed to keep peace as riot vans that were parked outside the hospital doors were hijacked by the frightened public.
I rub my eye’s in disbelief as I‘m reading this crazy horror story.
I notice that it’s silent in the office, only the sound of my uneasy breathing and the struggling computer tower can be heard. Looking over my shoulders, why I don’t know it’s a habit when I’m alone and scared, everyone does it. Looking back at the computer I continue to read the Article, but as I do, out of the corner of my eyes I notice a shadow sneak past the door; it seems to be creeping around the shop floor.
Stupidly I leap out of the computer chair in terror, tripping over my feet; I fall hard onto the floor. My funny bone smacks into the ground first, soaking most of the impact. I desperately begin rubbing my elbow, in an attempt to stop the strange painful ache, as I climb to my feet cradling it. I freeze as I can hear hurrying feet, panic and voices.
The shop is been robbed!
A/N Please, If you have enjoyed the first chapter of my novel, leave a comment or like it. I would very much appreciate if you contiuned to read on. Also if your a fan of my writing like my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/BUnique2013
© 2013 BUnique All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2013BUnique All rights reserved. BUnique has granted theNextBigWriter, LLC non-exclusive rights to display this work on Booksie.com.