Well, without further ado, here's the first chapter of my zombie fic! I apologize for grammatical errors, if there are any, as I typed it on my ipad. I was originally going to have this chapter be longer, but decided to just cut it off here. Also, please comment with your thoughts or suggestions, as I need to better myself as much as possible!
Wave 1 | Break In
Jack pulled the ringing cell phone out of his pocket. Without bothering to look at the caller I.D., as he never did, Jack held the phone up to his ear and answered, "Hello?"
"Jack, where in the world are you!?" It was the voice of Celine, Jack's older cousin.
"I'm, uh, just running some errands," Jack lied. He didn't want to let Celine know what he was really up to, as he wanted complete privacy.
"Well hurry and get back, we need you here so we can finish boarding up." With that Celine hung up. Jack couldn't believe that she had actually bought his lie. He knew she wasn't really all that gullible, but continued on o his destination, not a minute from where he now stood.
Jack soon arrived in front of his old home, which had been abandoned since his parents died seven years ago. The house actually still belonged to Jack, as his parents had given it to him in their will. Jack often found that strange, though, and for more than one reason. The first just seemed like a poor decision, as it didn't make sense as to why someone would want to leave a house to ten year-old. He figured that it would have just been better to give it to his aunt and uncle, and that they could have put it for rent until Jack moved out to live there on his own. Even stranger was that his parents had indeed written a will, as they had been murdered, and how would they have known that they were going to be killed?
Suddenly, looking at his old home, Jack was hit with a wave of emotions and memories of when he was young. He tried to push these memories and feelings away as he went around to the back of the house (which was easier to open than the front). Using a set of lock picks he always carried, he was able to get the door open in a fairly short amount of time. Jack stepped through and closed the door, locking it, as he didn't want anyone intruding, no matter how unlikely that was.
He just wandered aimlessly around the house for a few minutes, observing his old home for what could be the last time. On a normal day, he might even clean the house, which mostly just consisted of dusting it, but Jack knew that he didn't have much time.
Even after his parents died, Jack would sneak out of his aunt and uncle's house to sometimes spend the entire day here. He had even skipped school a few times to come the house. Once, Jack's aunt nearly reported him to the police as missing, because she hadn't known that he had spent the night at the house.
Jack tried to hurry, still attempting to ignore all of the memories and emotions that tried so desperately to make their way to the front of his mind. He swept through the back of the house, placing items that were meaningful to him in the red and black sling bag he wore on his back. Jack then found a surprise, and not a good one, when he made it to the front of the house, namely the kitchen. One of the large kitchen windows had been shattered, glass littering the floor and the window shades crumpled on the ground. It couldn't have been an accident, as this was the only house on the entire street, and no one ever even bothered to travel down this way, as the street stopped at a dead end. Jack had also been here just last week,and the window had been fine. Then, upon closer inspection, shoe prints could be seen on the trampled shade, confirming that someone had broken in. Bu why? It didn't make sense to Jack why someone would want to break into this place. He knew some people were desperate for supplies, but that didn't explained why there were items thrown all over the place, kitchen drawers left open with their contents spilled out, and even a cabinet door being disconnected from its hinges. An immense anger flared up inside of Jack, one of uncontrollable rage. Words could not describe his anger, and he now wanted revenge. If whoever did this was still in the house, they would fare much better against one of the massive zombie hordes ravaging the country than they would Jack. He then stormed around the kitchen, but found no other clues as to what happened. Out of the three rooms that Jack had not yet visited today (he could never bring himself to go into his or his parent's bedrooms), the study was the only one that was on this side of he house.
Jack received another surprise when he entered the study, this one being far worse that what he saw in the kitchen. It wasn't all of the books thrown off the shelves, the papers thrown all over, or even the desk that had been flipped. Jack didn't see it when he first entered the study, though. What had first caught his eye was the peculiar stains of red on the wall, which had not been there before. As he stepped farther into the room, there was a sudden splash as a thick liquid gushed into Jack's right shoe. Without taking another step, he looked down, only to see he was standing in a pool of red liquid. This red liquid turned out to be blood, which the dead body of a man lay in, with what was seemingly a bullet hole in his head. Jack looked at the dead body in horror, pulling the dagger that once belonged to his father off of his belt. He walked over to the body, avoiding the pool of blood, his right foot heavy with the gory liquid that had flooded his shoe. Jack bent down to examine the body, concluding that he had not shot himself, but had instead been murdered.
