A young man learns to lead his friends and survivors in a world of the Undead (Draft)
|
The car rolled to a stop just outside the house. Forty-Three Overlook road. It was an average sized suburban home in an un-extraordinary neighborhood. Andrew got out of the car and looked the rest of the way up the street. A group of about seven walks was dawdling around in the middle of the street. Andrew stared at them for a little while, before he heard the click of Nick’s safety. Andrew looked over at him as Nick aimed his gun down the street at the small group. Nick looked over at Andrew, and Andrew raised his hand. “Relax, they aren’t bothering anyone. Let’s not alert more of them or who ever’s in that house.” Andrew said. Nick shook his head. Andrew got the weapons out of the back of the truck while Nick opened up Ivan’s door and handed him a radio. “You use this only if absolutely necessary, understand?” Nick asked. Ivan snatched the radio out of Nick’s hand. “I should just be coming inside with you.” “That’s not happening, you’re our lookout you can help us by just doing your job out here. Do not get out of the car unless it’s an emergency and do not come into the house for any reason, understand?” Nick asked. Ivan pouted at him, but nodded. Nick nodded back, stepped back and closed the door. Andrew tossed him a shotgun, which Nick caught as he walked around the truck and slung it over his shoulder. The two started walking up to the house. “So we just hoping the front door’s unlocked or what?” Nick asked. “No,” Andrew smiled, almost playfully. “James had a key.” Nick laughed along as Andrew pulled the key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. As the lock clicked, indicating the door was open, Andrew pressed himself up against one side doorway while Nick pressed himself up against the other. Andrew turned the knob and swung the door open slowly, an incredibly loud creaking sound erupting from the door as it opened wide. Andrew took a deep breathe and spun into the doorway, Nick right behind him. Inside everything was nice and calm. The house actually looked rather undisturbed, save for a little dust here and there. The entrance way was exactly what James had described to Andrew, which came as no surprise. They were standing in an entrance hallway which lead to a staircase. Two large archways were just a little bit ahead of them and on either side of the hallway. The one on the left led to a living room while the one on the right led to a den. Passed the staircase at the end of the hall was another archway on the left which led to the dining room, and on the right was the kitchen. Andrew took a step forward, surprised to find that floor boards didn’t seem to squeak much under his weight. Nick took a step forward as well. “I think this might have been a bust man, I think we got tricked.” Nick whispered. Andrew signaled to him to be quiet. The two walked farther into the house. Andrew was on the left side and Nick was on the right. Nick signaled for them both to check each room individually on the count of three. Andrew nodded and stacked against the wall next to the living room archway. He counted to three in his head, then spun around into the living room. The room was empty, save for furniture and some candles. An old iMac was in the corner of the room, unused and covered in dust. Andrew stood up and breathed a sigh of relief, and turned around to see what Nick had found. Nick was still crouching in the archway, gun facing forward and trembling. He wasn’t moving or making a sound, just sitting there and looking forward. Andrew looked forward, into the den, to see what Nick was looking at. A frail figure, clothed only in what appeared to be a white drape was sitting in a small, wooden chair in the middle of the room, slumped over and facing the two. There was no other furniture in the room, though there was broken glass surrounding the chair and the figures bloody feet. The figures greasy hair drooped in front of it’s face as it leaned forward. The hair wasn’t very long and wasn’t very short, so Andrew struggled to figure out what it was. The figure was bound to the chair by thick rope. Andrew cautiously took a step into the room. As he got closer he started to make out more of the creature. For instance, it didn’t seem to have any ears. They had been cut off and the holes stitched together and bound with some kind of glue like a twisted art project. It’s skin was yellowed, cut, and bruised all over without a single area that didn’t seem damaged in someway. As Andrew got closer, he could even see it was breathing. Breathing. This thing was alive! Andrew rushed forward too it, and Nick snapped out of his trance and did the same. “Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?” Andrew asked. There was no response. Nick drew his pistol and pointed it at the figure, but Andrew indicated to him that he should wait. “Hello?” Andrew asked, reaching out and touching the figures arm. The figure jolted up, allowing Andrew and Nick to see it’s ghastly face. Both it’s eyes had been gouged out, with the blood still clearly on it’s face. Though it seemed like someone had controlled and stopped the bleeding, only to leave the wounds revealed. It’s mouth was also sewn shut and glued in the same way the ear holes were. It’s face showed signs of beating and bruising. The figure began to scream. A scream that could barely be heard through the sewing. It began to violently flail, swinging it’s head and legs every which way. Nick reeled back as if he was gonna be sick, but Andrew just stepped back, horrified. But before either of them could do anything, they heard a shout from upstairs. “Belinda! What is with all the ruckus!” A gruff, mans voice shouted from a top the stairs. Andrew and Nick stared at each other, even more horrified by the fact that they had alerted the very man they were there to kill. They both moved quickly and quietly to the living room, where Andrew hid under a couch and Nick hid behind it. They heard heavy footsteps walking down the old, creaky wooden stairs, and both watched from their hiding places as a big, burly, heavy set man with a long beard appeared from the staircase. He only wore a white robe which appeared to be a bathrobe and yellow cleaning gloves as well as slippers. No more, no less. The man approached Belinda, who continued to heave around and make her fuss in the chair. Andrew watched as the man spoke to her. “You have no mouth, yet you scream. You have no eyes, yet you must fear. You have no ears, yet you must be aware.” The man rambled, approaching Belinda. He stepped across the broken, crunching glass, paying it no mind. “You continue to cause problems for me, Belinda. Big problems. Imagine that, my most successful experiment, and you continue to cause these…problems.” The man got right in front of the flailing woman and crouched down. “Not much longer now and you’ll have at least two new friends to spend time with. Maybe three if the boy survives. Maybe i’ll even do you a favor, drape you in the dogs skin so you can even have a little puppy too.” The man spoke softly, but sickeningly. Andrew diverted his eyes from the man, unable to handle the sight of this monster any longer. “You’re nearly the perfect creation, Belinda.” The man said, reaching his hand out and touching her arm, “A cross between life and death. Living an undead. You are limbo. But for all your successes… you still fail me in loyalty.” The man said, Andrew turned back to him as he saw the man pulling an incredibly large hunting knife out of his robe. “That dog skin would have an awful stench, wouldn’t it.” The man said, he gripped the knife handle tightly as Andrew watched. “It’s not something you have to worry about.” He said, and quickly slashed the knife at Belinda's face. Andrew jumped at the suddenness of the event, and looked back to see Nick preparing to take the shot. Andrew kicked him though, stopping him from shooting. Nick looked at him like he was crazy, but Andrew feared they wouldn't be able to find these three people if he died this soon. They both turned their attention back to the man as he sheathed his knife and stood up, picking the bloody nose off the floor. The man pressed a swab of cloth to the women's face before taping it to her. "There, that should keep you alive." The man said, with no empathy in his voice. He stood up and turned to walk out of the room, only stopping momentarily to kick some glass out of his way before he headed back up the staircase. The two waited until they heard the relieving sound of a bedroom door being slammed shut before they quickly got out of their cover and swept the rest of the house. His heart nearly pounding out of his chest, Andrew checked the dining room and kitchen, trying his hardest to ignore Belinda for now as he checked room to room. He and Nick swept the first floor, but other then Belinda, nothing was out of the ordinary. “What do we do?” Nick asked Andrew. “The guy was talking about experiments.” Andrew quickly said, he didn’t have time to think in his head, they needed to find these three people now, “So he must have a lab or an operating room or something. James said the door to the basement is under the stairs.” The two quickly moved back to the staircase, where they found a door to the basement in the hallways between the kitchen and dining room. “You think it’s in the basement?” Nick asked. “Why wouldn’t it be?” “Cause he’s been upstairs since we got here, what else would he be doing up there?” “I don’t know man… but… but… okay here.” Andrew said, “Go outside and move the car, get i tout from in front of the house. We don’t want to alert him that we’re here. I’ll check the basement, and then come back up and wait for you before we check upstairs okay?” Andrew asked. Nick, stern faced, nodded and crept his way back to the front door. As Nick left, Andrew took a big breathe and opened the basement door. The basement was dark and unfinished, the steps down were just thin pieces of wood, sloppily painted with a dirty gray paint. Each step Andrew took into the musty smelling basement creaked. Not loudly, but each step creaked. Andrew hit the cement floor which, due to years of water damage and erosion, had shifted and cracked. Andrew could generally tell that the basement was not well made. For the most part, the basement was just as un-extraordinary as the first floor of the house. Nothing seemed particularly crazy or out of the ordinary. There were boxes, chairs, a wardrobe, an old TV and tons of other useless pieces of junk. There was a door in the back of the basement, but James had said it was just a closet where his mom kept the washing machine supplies so Andrew disregarded it. And that was it. It was just a basement with random pieces of furniture being stored in it. Andrew didn’t have a flashlight, and was going off of the little bit of light coming in through the thin windows and the doorway at the top of the stairs. Andrew scanned around the basement one more time, and after determining nothing was down there, decided to head back up. As Andrew got to the stairs, he heard it. THUMP. A large sound came from within the basement itself. Andrew froze in place, terrified about what he may find. Andrew turned around and looked for the source of the sound. “Hello?” Andrew asked in his normal voice. Not a hushed one, and not a quiet one. THUMP THUMP. Andrew looked in the direction of the thumps and looked over at a washing machine with a clear, glass top. THUMP. Another thump came, this time from the washing machine. Several heavy looking boxes of paper appeared to be sitting on top of it, which was enough explanation for Andrew as to why whoever was in there couldn’t get out. Andrew put his shotgun on his back, but cautiously approached the washing machine and drew his pistol just in case. Andrew arrived at the washing machine and quickly removed the boxes, and looked into the machine to see, to his surprise, a living but frail looking young man, who couldn’t have been older than Twenty-Five. He was sitting, apparently naked, half submerged in filthy water with a gag on his mouth. He and Andrew made eye contact, and Andrew ripped open the washer. Andrew ripped the gag off of the man but help him at gun point, “Who are you!” Andrew demanded, but in a hushed tone. The man stood up, gasping for air and inhaling fresh air for the first time in a long time. “My name’s Stuart.” He said, “Please you have help my girl, Emmy and this kid we’ve been looking after, Jackson. That Monster just took them and… me and the others couldn’t do anything to… to… to…” Stuart struggled to get out but couldn’t. The emotions of the situation got the better of him and he collapsed in tears as he got out of the machine. Andrew looked around quickly, and found him a pair of cargo shorts to put on. “Others?” Andrew asked. He only knew of three people. “He keeps us all…tied up in there…” Stuart said, catching his breath and pointing to the closet door. “Chained to the wall, hands behind our backs, gagged, blindfolded, naked, and eternally standing. There were about ten of us in there, but he took me, my girl and the boy out today.” Stuart managed to explain. “Why were you in the washing machine?” Andrew asked. “It’s a holding tank, he keeps his next subject in places like that. Jackson’s probably somewhere like this too, he was saying he wanted…” Stuarts words trailed off. “Wanted?…” “He wanted to deal with her first.” Stuart said. His words were no longer weak and sputtered, but clear, angry, and vengeful. “What’s he gonna do to her?” Andrew said, finally lowering and holstering his gun. “You’ve met Belinda. Worse.” Andrew nodded a nod of understanding, called Nick on the radio to bring an extra gun, and opened the closet and began releasing each prisoner one by one, to tears of gratitude. One prisoner, an older man, as he was released looked at Andrew and asked, “Who are you?” “My name’s Andrew Stark.” Andrew said, “But I’m apparently The Regulator.” |