inside his home.
Everything was falling apart in front of his eyes.
No!
He picked up his pace. Kept on running. He couldn’t give up. He couldn’t just throw it all away. Not after how far he’d come. Not after how far they’d all come, everything they’d worked for.
He stopped when he saw Miriam’s house right in front of him.
He stood there. All sounds disappeared. All smells, tastes, feelings, all of them faded away.
Miriam’s front door was wide open.
And on the floor right in front of the door, and right inside the house, there was blood.
Chapter Ten
H ayden walked slowly towards the open door of Miriam’s house.
He felt a bitter chill cover him as the late morning sun disappeared behind another cloud. Or maybe it was just the shock finally hitting him. The understanding of what was happening setting in.
New Britain was under attack.
His home was under attack.
And he was caught up in the middle of it all.
He held on to his knife, which dripped blood. He kept his eyes on Miriam’s open door at all times. He didn’t want to risk missing anything. He didn’t want to blink. He just wanted to keep his focus. Whether something lunged out and attacked him, or he saw a trace of life in Miriam’s place, he wanted to see it for himself.
He couldn’t hear a thing coming from inside Miriam’s house. He took that as a positive sign. His mind tormented him with imaginings of her tortured cries. Or her pained begging for him to put her out of her misery, to end her life.
He shoved those thoughts aside. He couldn’t think like that anymore.
He had to find her. And he had to find her fast.
Only then could he allow himself to think.
He pushed open the door a little further. Heard it creak as he moved it. The bloodstain on the floor stopped, right there. There were no footprints out of the house from it, or into the house for that matter.
Again, Hayden wasn’t sure what to make of that.
But no news was good news. At least, for now.
He stepped inside Miriam’s house. Instantly, he caught a whiff of her perfume—sweet, subtle. It brought out mixed emotions in him. Part of him wished he’d been here in the first place when New Britain had come under attack, so he could’ve worked with Miriam to help keep them both safe. Another part of him hoped that wherever she was, she was okay. That she’d got away somehow, as painful a thought as that was.
But the main part inside Hayden was regret. Regret, for never truly opening up to Miriam. Regret for never telling her how he really felt about her.
He would. He’d force himself to if he found her. He’d apologise for being so stuck in that damned bubble of his and he’d tell her exactly how he felt.
But first, he had to find her.
He searched the lounge. Then the kitchen. There was no sign of anyone in here. The only evidence of life were those left behind from earlier that day—an unwashed cereal bowl sitting at the bottom of the sink. A pair of jogging bottoms left stashed on the floor, like she’d been in the middle of putting them on when the scream erupted, or something like that.
Hayden tried not to imagine Miriam’s fear. He tried not to experience her pain. Because it pained him to think of her going through those emotions.
He just had to find her.
He searched the bottom floor of the house. Searched it completely. And when he still hadn’t found her, Hayden found himself staring up the staircase. Up to the floor above. Outside, he could hear footsteps. Snarls. Cries. Gunshots.
But inside, he could hear nothing.
He looked up those stairs and prepared to climb.
And then he heard something.
His body froze. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
He could hear movement above him.
Someone moving around up there. Someone’s footsteps.
Or some thing’s footsteps.
He lifted his knife. Started ascending the stairs. He didn’t want to call out Miriam’s name because he didn’t want to attract any infected to his position. He just kept his
Everything was falling apart in front of his eyes.
No!
He picked up his pace. Kept on running. He couldn’t give up. He couldn’t just throw it all away. Not after how far he’d come. Not after how far they’d all come, everything they’d worked for.
He stopped when he saw Miriam’s house right in front of him.
He stood there. All sounds disappeared. All smells, tastes, feelings, all of them faded away.
Miriam’s front door was wide open.
And on the floor right in front of the door, and right inside the house, there was blood.
Chapter Ten
H ayden walked slowly towards the open door of Miriam’s house.
He felt a bitter chill cover him as the late morning sun disappeared behind another cloud. Or maybe it was just the shock finally hitting him. The understanding of what was happening setting in.
New Britain was under attack.
His home was under attack.
And he was caught up in the middle of it all.
He held on to his knife, which dripped blood. He kept his eyes on Miriam’s open door at all times. He didn’t want to risk missing anything. He didn’t want to blink. He just wanted to keep his focus. Whether something lunged out and attacked him, or he saw a trace of life in Miriam’s place, he wanted to see it for himself.
He couldn’t hear a thing coming from inside Miriam’s house. He took that as a positive sign. His mind tormented him with imaginings of her tortured cries. Or her pained begging for him to put her out of her misery, to end her life.
He shoved those thoughts aside. He couldn’t think like that anymore.
He had to find her. And he had to find her fast.
Only then could he allow himself to think.
He pushed open the door a little further. Heard it creak as he moved it. The bloodstain on the floor stopped, right there. There were no footprints out of the house from it, or into the house for that matter.
Again, Hayden wasn’t sure what to make of that.
But no news was good news. At least, for now.
He stepped inside Miriam’s house. Instantly, he caught a whiff of her perfume—sweet, subtle. It brought out mixed emotions in him. Part of him wished he’d been here in the first place when New Britain had come under attack, so he could’ve worked with Miriam to help keep them both safe. Another part of him hoped that wherever she was, she was okay. That she’d got away somehow, as painful a thought as that was.
But the main part inside Hayden was regret. Regret, for never truly opening up to Miriam. Regret for never telling her how he really felt about her.
He would. He’d force himself to if he found her. He’d apologise for being so stuck in that damned bubble of his and he’d tell her exactly how he felt.
But first, he had to find her.
He searched the lounge. Then the kitchen. There was no sign of anyone in here. The only evidence of life were those left behind from earlier that day—an unwashed cereal bowl sitting at the bottom of the sink. A pair of jogging bottoms left stashed on the floor, like she’d been in the middle of putting them on when the scream erupted, or something like that.
Hayden tried not to imagine Miriam’s fear. He tried not to experience her pain. Because it pained him to think of her going through those emotions.
He just had to find her.
He searched the bottom floor of the house. Searched it completely. And when he still hadn’t found her, Hayden found himself staring up the staircase. Up to the floor above. Outside, he could hear footsteps. Snarls. Cries. Gunshots.
But inside, he could hear nothing.
He looked up those stairs and prepared to climb.
And then he heard something.
His body froze. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
He could hear movement above him.
Someone moving around up there. Someone’s footsteps.
Or some thing’s footsteps.
He lifted his knife. Started ascending the stairs. He didn’t want to call out Miriam’s name because he didn’t want to attract any infected to his position. He just kept his
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