home

search

Chapter 1. Hell is calling

  "Been a while, old man. Hope you didn't miss me too much," Isaac muttered, settling down and leaning against the cold, gray gravestone. "I would have come sooner, but well… life happened."

  He shook his head. "Three weeks… It's April already, you know. The world is coming alive again, and I… I just keep going like I always did—like you asked me to. Though, I might have to change jobs again, so that's exciting, I guess? Not sure what I'm gonna try next, but that's fine. After all, how did you always put it?" He snapped his fingers. "Right… It's the journey that matters, not the goal."

  Isaac chuckled, picking up the bouquet of cornflowers he'd set beside him. "I even brought you some flowers this time around. You better like them, old man—they weren't cheap. I swear, the lady at the entrance probably scammed me. Ten bucks for something so small can't be right, but what do I know..."

  Slowly, he rose to his feet and placed the flowers by the headstone. The blue bouquet looked a little out of place in the grim setting, but maybe that was the point: to bring a touch of beauty to a place steeped in death and sadness. Or maybe not. He couldn't bring himself to care too much about it either way.

  "In other news, your granddaughter visited me again," Isaac announced, his face scrunching into a grimace. "And when I say visited, I mean barged into my apartment and shouted at me for five minutes straight. Sometimes I really cannot believe you two are related…"

  A sharp whistle of wind was the only answer to his words, and he couldn't help but sigh.

  "Honestly, I have no idea what to do about her anymore. It's been almost a year now, yet she is still trying… Maybe… Maybe I should just give it up? What's the point of fighting with her every other week? It's just an apart—"

  Isaac stopped as another blast of wind shot through the area, gently ruffling his short black hair and picking up some leaves on the way. His gaze scanned the empty graveyard as if looking for something—someone—but there was nothing. He was just as alone as he was a minute ago.

  "What am I even saying…" He shook his head gently. "Why do I even care... You left me that place. It's official, legit. Nothing she can do 'bout that. If she takes me to court? Well, it's her loss…" The corner of his lips tugged up into a small smile. "Thanks, old man. Somehow, you're still helping me."

  Yet, even with that said, Isaac stayed in his spot, his gaze glued to the grave as the distant sound of traffic washed over his ears. He should go, he really should, but he just couldn't—didn't want to—move. As morbid as it sounded, this graveyard was his escape, and he didn't want to give it up just yet.

  Nothing waited for him outside it anyway…

  That's sad, even by my standards.

  He snorted, looking down at his old but trusty watch. "No rest for the wicked, eh? It's time for me… Got another shift in an hour, and I still need to get some groceries. Rest well, old man. I will see you next week. Promise won't be late this time."

  After a final glance at the blue flowers, Isaac turned on his heel and headed for the graveyard's exit. On the way out, he nodded to the woman who had most likely scammed him out of his hard-earned money and headed back toward the city.

  Thankfully, Galt was a fairly small town, so with enough time, he could get anywhere on foot. Sure, it wasn't the most thrilling walk, but at the very least, it gave him a decent workout. God knew he didn't have enough time—or necessary motivation—to hit the local gym or go on a run.

  Maybe trying to save up for some beat-up car wouldn't be such a bad idea, Isaac mused, fishing out his earphones and selecting a random playlist on his phone. Old man always said I should get out of this town before it suffocates me. Something to think of later… First though—groceries.

  Soon enough, he reached the heart of the city and headed for the local convenience store on the corner of the street where he lived. He nodded to the elderly woman behind the counter, earning a warm smile in return.

  With practiced ease, he weaved between the shelves, grabbing an item here and there. He didn't take too much, though—just enough for tonight. He would have to make a proper grocery run tomorrow.

  "There we go," he muttered, placing his haul on the counter and tugging out his earphones.

  "Keeping it simple, aren't you, Isaac?" the old woman said, offering him a light grin. "You sure you don't want anything else? We got some fresh apples this morning—best batch we've had in a while."

  Isaac shook his head. "Not today, Mrs. Harper. Just need something for tonight. I will be back tomorrow."

  "Good, good. You should eat more, boy, or you will turn into skin and bones," she chided, tallying up the items. "That will be 11.43. Do you want a bag to go with it?"

  He ignored her first comment. "No need. Thank you, Mrs. Harper. I will see you tomorrow."

  "Oh well… Have a good day, Isaac."

  He nodded in return and headed for the exit. He still had about half an hour before his shift began. If he hurried, he might even be able to eat something before going out. Or… he could show up a few minutes late. At this point, it probably didn't matter anyway.

  Only time will tell. He laughed quietly to himself, slipping his earphones back in. Only time will tell…

  "Finally done!" Daryl exclaimed, his grin barely visible behind his thick, scruffy beard. He plopped down onto the bench next to Isaac and patted him on the back. "Rough day, eh, kid? Thank God they can't hold us any longer... Mia would kill me if I came home late again," he added the last part in a mutter.

  Isaac smiled, putting his work clothes back in his locker. "We've had worse."

  The older man chuckled. "That we have. Not sure if that's something to be proud of, though… Bah! Whatever. Doesn't matter anyway. You better tell me if you are coming with us this weekend."

  Ah, this again… Isaac grimaced, quickly trying to come up with something to say. "I'm not sure yet. Let you know tomorrow, okay?"

  "You better, kid. Really, I have no ide—"

  Daryl paused as the door to the locker room swung open. A short, muscular man strode in, his eyes instantly zeroing in on Isaac. "Walker! The manager wants to see you. Now."

  With his part said, the man instantly turned around and left the room. Once the door closed, Daryl scoffed. "Fucking prick. And he wonders why no one invites him when we go out."

  Isaac sighed. "It is what it is." He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Better not keep Harris waiting. See you later."

  Just as he reached for the doorknob, Daryl's voice stopped him. "Wait up, kid! Listen, we both know why he's calling you… and while I can't offer you a job, I know some people. I can ask around. You are a hard worker—it shouldn't be that difficult. Just give me a few days."

  A tiny smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

  "Don't mention it! Come by my place on Sunday. We can talk details then, and I'm sure Mia will be happy to have you over for dinner again."

  "I will be there. Thanks again, Daryl."

  They fired him. It wasn't a surprise—not to him and not to anyone else, really. The signs had been everywhere: budget cuts, no more overtime, and Harris, their manager, snapping every other day. Isaac was just unlucky enough to be the first one let go. It also didn't help that management disliked him to some degree—which, to be fair, might have been partially his fault.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Even though Dylan said he was a hard worker, it didn't mean he was an easy person to work with.

  Oh well…

  At the very least, Isaac could now cross "warehouse worker" off the ever-growing list of jobs he had held in the few months since the old man had passed away and he had finished high school. Honestly, it was impressive how many times he had managed to switch jobs in such a short amount of time. Maybe he should apply for some kind of a record?

  That's an angle, he thought, snorting softly as he splashed his face with cold water. He glanced up at the mirror above the sink. Blue eyes stared back at him, framed by dark bags. His hair—or pretty much his entire body—had also seen better days.

  I could use a day or two of rest. Maybe Harris did me a favor…

  Wiping his face dry, Isaac left his tiny bathroom and maneuvered his way through the living room in the darkness. It didn't take him long to lie down on the couch and close his eyes. Even if he didn't feel too tired now, a moment to figure out his thoughts couldn't hurt…

  In the end, he would be fine—he always was. Losing another job didn't mean much in the long run. At this point, he had enough experience to find work in a few days; it was just another step in an all-too-familiar cycle. Besides, he still had his own apartment and a small stash of money—security that many could only dream of.

  And so the cycle continues. At least this time, I might have some help. Sounds nice. A tiny smile tugged at his lips. Maybe this is a sign. I could get two jobs, save up more, and get the hell out of this place.

  Deep down, he knew it would never happen. Wishes like that were for dreamers, for people with a purpose, not for him. What was the point of leaving if he had no goal, no direction? Why abandon a somewhat peaceful, steady life just to scrape by doing odd jobs in a different city?

  "Pathetic," Isaac mumbled, only to yawn a moment later. Suddenly, sleep didn't sound so bad after all.

  Running away from your problems again, eh? Old man would be proud… He sighed before letting out another yawn. Tomorrow… I will think about it tomorrow…

  For the first time in a few weeks, Isaac slept well past eight in the morning. Did it mean the lingering exhaustion had disappeared? Not quite—not yet. But maybe, after a few more nights like this, it would. Of course, depending on how quickly he found another job, he might never get the chance to find out.

  Shopping and breakfast first—worry about work later, he thought, throwing on some fresh black sweatpants and a hoodie. He also grabbed his worn-out backpack and headed out of his apartment. Let's go slow for today. No hurry.

  In the back of his mind, the thoughts from last night lingered, but for now, he pushed them aside. As the old man used to say, "No use making decisions on an empty stomach," or something like that. He had said a lot of things—some wise, others… not so much.

  After a quick jog down the stairs, Isaac left his apartment building and headed for the corner convenience shop again. If luck was on his side today, then he should be able to buy everything he needed for the next week there. If not… well, he would get another workout trying to reach a different place.

  With music playing in his ears, he entered the store and nodded to Mrs. Harper and a man browsing through items near the counter. The older woman greeted him with her usual warm smile while the man didn't even glance his way. Rude, but not uncommon.

  Let's see… Isaac mused, choosing to start his shopping from the freezers. What do I need again? I really should have made a list…

  Yet even without one, he slowly gathered everything he needed from the freezer section. He had probably forgotten something anyway and would have to return here another day, but that was pretty much the standard.

  All right, next some pa—

  The thought shattered as a sudden, searing pain tore through his body. He collapsed to his knees, feeling as if someone stabbed his every organ and filled them with liquid fire. The music in his ears faded into the background as a silent scream left his lips.

  A moment later, he collapsed completely, writhing on the cool and dirty floor. Everything burned. His blood, his muscles, his insides. Worse still, it felt like his body was being torn apart and rearranged from the inside out.

  He had no idea how long he lay there, silently begging for the pain to end. Yet when it did, he almost wished it didn't—almost. Muffled screams echoed around him, some filled with pain, others with fear. One of them, sharper and closer, came from within the shop and froze the blood in his veins.

  Mrs. Harper!

  Isaac scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the dull ache in his body. He raced between the shelves, his heart doing a marathon of its own inside his chest. Yet, even with all that, he was too late.

  When he reached the counter, Mrs. Harper's screams abruptly cut off, and it wasn't the smiling woman that greeted him. No, instead, he found her bloodied corpse sprawled on the floor, her throat slit and vacant eyes staring into nothingness.

  For a second, the world stopped, and then the man standing over her body turned to face Isaac, snarling like a rabid animal.

  What the hell?!

  Bloodshot eyes and sickly yellow irises glared at him as saliva dripped from the man's mouth. Black throbbing veins filled his entire face, spreading from the eyes. And then there were his hands, bloodied with nails so sharp and long they resembled claws.

  Isaac gulped.

  Shit.

  Just like that, the world unfroze, and he bolted back toward the shelves, the man—no, the monster—following almost instantly, its screech filling the store. Thinking fast, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the flip knife he never left home without. He didn’t expect to have to use it against a knock-off zombie, but he would take whatever advantage he could get.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  Behind him, the monster crashed into shelves, sending items clattering to the floor. Isaac darted toward the freezers, grabbing a broom that had been propped against the wall on the way. Then, he ducked behind another shelf, gripping the knife and broom handle so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  Okay, okay… Deep breaths. I ain't dying here. I can do this…

  Most people in his situation would think about running away, getting the hell out of the store. But Isaac couldn't do that, not when he heard the continuous screams coming from outside. Here, he at least stood a chance, one against one—the same might not apply once he left this place. He had watched enough zombie movies to know that.

  He's coming.

  A screech came from his right, close to his hiding spot, sending shivers down his spine. He grabbed the broom with both hands, the knife stuck between his palm and the wooden shaft.

  Now!

  With all the strength he could muster, Isaac swung the broom just as the monster rounded the corner of the shelf. The wooden handle smashed into the beast’s head, dropping it to the floor like a sack of bricks, a wail leaving its lips.

  Isaac hesitated even as the blade of his knife snapped out. The next step was obvious, end the threat before it could end him. Yet, it was one thing to consider killing someone and another to commit to it.

  I'm just trying to survive. It's self-defense. He repeated those words like a mantra inside his head. This isn't a human anymore, just some monster.

  But was it really the truth? Just a few minutes ago, the man lying before him was browsing groceries. Maybe this was some sort of a mistake. A dream. Stuff like this didn't happen in real life—only in fiction.

  Isaac tried to pinch his arm, but before he could do that, the man-monster moved again, its yellow eyes snapping open. It snarled, showing teeth covered in blood. The memory of Mrs. Harper's bloodied corpse flashed in his mind.

  Do it!

  Instincts overrode hesitation. Isaac lunged forward, slapping away one of the monster's clawed hands and driving his knife straight into its chest. The beast screeched, its eyes opening wide.

  He took it as a sign that he was doing something right.

  Again!

  He yanked the blade free and stabbed again, then again, uncaring where his strikes landed—its chest, its shoulders, its neck. Blood splattered them both, covering everything in the aisle. Yet, he noticed none of that and continued riddling the monster with more holes.

  The man-turned-monster flailed at first, but soon, even that stopped. Isaac froze mid-stab, his mind finally catching up with his body. He scrambled back like struck until his back hit the freezer behind him.

  He tore his gaze away from the lifeless yellow eyes as he took in large gulps of air. The knife in his hand trembled, but he couldn't let it go. He wouldn't let it go.

  Get a grip! Isaac hissed inside his mind, trying to calm his racing heart. You... you did what you had to. The noises outside only prove that.

  Silence might have fallen onto the convenience store, but outside, screams and screeches still raged. Even if he was safe now, that could change in the blink of an eye if another of those monsters barged in here.

  I need… I need to find out what's happening…

  Isaac tried to stand up, but before he could even move his legs, the corpse in front of him flickered once and disappeared. The blood he had spilled still painted the floor, but the body was nowhere to be seen.

  What?

  He didn't expect an answer, yet he still received one.

  Red glowing letters appeared in the air before him, forming a few sentences in the only language he knew.

  Hibernation Stage Initialization: Failure. Cause: Broken Strain Detected.

  Recalculating… Activating Emergency Breakout Stage. Preparing Contamination Zones.

  Host scan in progress... Stand by…

Recommended Popular Novels