"Given the current state of affairs, it is evident that our world has descended into chaos," Jon began, gesturing towards the barricaded door from behind which the ominous growls and scratches of the undead could be heard, instilling fear in the survivors. "Our survival hinges on our ability to cooperate, at least until we are rescued by the military."
Mary-Anne responded with a scoff, "That's wishful thinking. They're probably zombie fodder by now, just like in the movies."
Harold, attempting to maintain a semblance of optimism, countered, "That's a pessimistic outlook. Reality differs from fiction; the military is more than capable of handling the zombie threat."
Marcy interjected, "That doesn't negate the possibility of a worst-case scenario, senior." She was referring to the common trope in zombie movies where the protagonists find themselves in dire straits.
I found myself agreeing with her. While the likelihood of the military successfully rescuing survivors from the zombie onslaught was relatively high, given that real-world logic differed from movie logic, there was still a chance that the military could fall victim to the undead, especially considering the rapid spread of the infection. The prospect of living in this dystopian world was unappealing; I yearned for peaceful slumber.
Jon outlined a strategy, "Our immediate goal is to survive for a week. We have sufficient supplies in this supermarket to last us that long. During this time, we must make every effort to establish contact with the military. That's our best bet for a safe exit."
Morrison posed a question, "What if other survivors attempt to enter? We can't risk removing the barricades. That would be a death sentence." His personal aversion to becoming a meal for the undead was evident.
Jon shot Morrison a glare for bringing up such a grim possibility before sighing, "There's nothing we can do about it. Our primary objective is survival and hoping that those survivors find safety elsewhere."
Mary-Anne voiced her frustration, "So, we're just going to hide here?" Given the circumstances, she had little choice.
Jon responded, "Unless we are rescued by the military, yes." He acknowledged that remaining stationary was perilous in a zombie apocalypse, but they had no other option as safe havens were scarce.
Marcy pointed at the unconscious fat bastard, "What about him? He's going to consume all the food in this supermarket. I've seen enough anime to know his type."
Jon sighed in frustration, sharing her sentiment, "There's nothing we can do about it. We can't just throw him out, especially since we've barricaded everything."
Sean expressed his disdain for the man, "I'm still pissed that he accused my son of being infected. I feel like giving him a piece of my mind."
Beverely attempted to pacify her husband, "Calm down, honey. Your temper is showing."
I managed a small smile when my father expressed his resentment towards the man for falsely accusing me of being bitten due to the bruises and injuries I sustained from bullies. I had never seen him display anger when I was battling depression, but my mother had mentioned his fiery temper during his student days. My smile faded as I remembered our grim reality, and upon noticing Priscilla briefly glancing at my parents, a reminder of her loss.
Jon concluded the meeting, "That concludes our first meeting. We will reconvene tomorrow. Feel free to do as you please, but refrain from wasting food. If the military fails to rescue us, we need to conserve supplies for the eventuality of having to leave."
Mary-Anne responded sarcastically, "Aye aye, captain."
As everyone made their exit, I noticed Jon engaged in a deep conversation with Priscilla. The sight of tears streaming down her face was poignant, as Jon attempted to provide solace. Despite the harsh circumstances life had dealt him, Jon's compassionate and charismatic nature shone through. It was clear to see why he was unanimously chosen as the leader, even if the group was unaware of their collective decision.
As the afternoon wore on, the survivors were engrossed in strategizing the preservation of food. While there was a substantial amount of food that could suffice for a single meal, the challenge lay in ensuring these rations would sustain them for weeks, or at least until they could vacate the supermarket. My parents lent their assistance to the survivors, while Priscilla and I remained seated, observing the proceedings.
The man of considerable size, who had been knocked unconscious, awoke two hours later, which was longer than anticipated. He began to berate my father for rendering him unconscious. His incessant complaints irked the other survivors to the point where they threatened to silence him or feed him to the undead horde. This threat subdued him instantly, and he sat down, attempting to snack on some chips before my father confiscated them for conservation, much to his chagrin.
As night descended, the survivors partook in a meal of canned tuna from the Jmart section. Despite my aversion to the taste of tuna, I had no alternative. The prospect of going hungry through the night was daunting, especially with the uncertainty of a potential zombie breach into the supermarket. This could very well be my final meal.
"Alright, everyone. Those who wish to sleep, may do so," Jon commanded the group of survivors post meal. "The rest of you will join me for the first watch. We'll rotate every four hours."
In compliance with the leader's orders, five survivors retired for the night, while the remaining six took up the first watch. The situation was surprisingly calm compared to the typical depiction of panic-stricken individuals in zombie movies. Everyone was thinking logically, which was a fortunate turn of events, except for the large man who fell asleep instantly.
Sleep eluded me. The gravity of the situation made it impossible to rest. Everything had transpired so rapidly that I was still processing it. One of the survivors, who had a medical kit, tended to my wounds, but the pain was still palpable. The reality of zombies and the fact that I had leapt from the third floor onto a truck earlier was still hard to believe.
Knowing that sleep was unlikely, I rose to my feet. I looked at my mother, who was sleeping peacefully, and for the first time since my depression set in, I kissed her forehead. I then began to wander around the expansive HL Supermarket, hoping the vastness would help soothe my troubled mind amidst the chaos.
Unbeknownst to all of us, outside the confines of the building, the zombies were stirring into a frenzied state.
———
As I meandered through the labyrinthine aisles of the supermarket once more, I observed a trio of survivors steadfastly guarding the rear entrance, while another group of three kept watch over the main entrance. The supermarket's architectural design was perplexing, with the main entrance situated at the rear, adjacent to Otis Avenue, rather than facing Hylan Boulevard. However, I decided not to question the proprietor's rationale.
Upon raising my gaze, I noticed an aperture leading to the rooftop, accessible via an extension ladder. This feature had escaped my attention during my initial exploration. It appeared that one of the survivors had engineered this rooftop access point, providing a panoramic vantage point, given that the only alternative route to the rooftop was bizarrely located outside.
Compelled by the desire for a breath of fresh air, I ascended the ladder. Upon reaching the rooftop, I surveyed the scene below. The zombies' behavior had taken an eerie turn since my last observation. They seemed to exhibit a maniacal demeanor rather than their usual ravenous hunger, yet they refrained from attempting to infiltrate the supermarket.
My gaze then shifted to the opposite side of the rooftop, where I spotted Priscilla perched on the edge, with zombies futilely attempting to reach her. A wave of relief washed over me, knowing their inability to climb. The thought of being devoured was far from appealing. My primary objective was to endure this harsh reality alongside my parents.
Priscilla, alerted by the sound of my footsteps, sighed, "Why are you here?"
"...I couldn't sleep," I admitted, as that was the genuine reason for my presence. I cautiously seated myself on the rooftop's edge, maintaining a safe distance from her. My heart pounded with the unnerving possibility of my legs being seized by the zombies below.
An awkward silence ensued, lasting for what felt like an eternity. I was at a loss for words, particularly given our lack of familiarity. My previous experiences had made me wary of forming personal bonds, and our interactions had been limited to just two encounters prior to this one. Engaging in conversation with a virtual stranger seemed illogical.
"So... how was today?" Priscilla inquired, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of shyness. Gone was the assertive tone of a Student Council President, replaced by the timidity of a girl who had lost her parents.
"...bad," I responded candidly, gesturing towards the horde of zombies swarming the streets. "I wasn't planning to come to school today, but I did... because I wanted to apologize to you. I was planning to leave after doing so at lunch, but then the Boxin' Gang decided to beat me up on the rooftop before I could do so, so... my day is ruined"
Priscilla cast a guilt-ridden glance in my direction, regretting her inability to intervene, before returning her gaze to the scene below, "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be. This isn't the first time my birthday has been ruined by unfortunate events," I reassured her, reflecting on the deeper anguish I had endured on previous birthdays, particularly the betrayal by a close friend two years prior.
Priscilla expressed surprise upon learning that it was my birthday, "Happy... birthday, I guess."
"My birthday is anything but happy," I corrected her, having never experienced the joy typically associated with birthdays. I surmised that life had conspired to deprive me of the pleasure of celebrating this annual milestone, an event I considered far more significant than Christmas. "It never has been since I was a child."
"Why is that?" Priscilla probed, intrigued by the notion of someone not experiencing joy on their birthday.
"Do you know what day it is today? September 11. That date alone has been a harbinger of misfortune for me," I confessed, my voice tinged with melancholy. "My birth was a grueling five-hour ordeal for my mother. The adults shunned me due to their superstitious belief in 'bad luck', a sentiment echoed by my classmates who refrained from befriending me. Even my only close friend... why am I telling this to you?"
Priscilla, having grasped the implications of Jarlath's previous statement, inferred that he had been deeply wounded by the treachery of the sole individual he had once considered close. This revelation shed light on his cynical demeanor and his propensity to deride the educators. She recognized the signs of a fractured spirit.
"And now, a zombie apocalypse happened on my 17th birthday. Oh, how life showers me with its favors," I remarked, my voice dripping with sarcasm and a tone of bitterness, as I clenched my fists, concealing the simmering rage within me, questioning the purpose of my existence if it was destined to be filled with suffering.
Priscilla cast a glance at me, her eyes brimming with unadulterated sorrow, "I don't know how you managed to hold on. My parents were killed and devoured by those monsters in front of me, and I feel on the verge of shattering. There was... a reason why I found myself on this rooftop."
Her confession took me by surprise. Judging by her tone, it appeared she had been contemplating... suicide, hadn't she? Such thoughts had crossed my mind ever since I began grappling with depression two years ago, but the thought of my parents' grief deterred me from acting upon it. However, for Priscilla, who had lost her parents, there was nothing left to lose.
"Are you going to go through with it?" I inquired, questioning her intent to proceed with her plan. I had no right to intervene, as I wouldn't want anyone to disrupt my attempt, should I ever decide to take such a step. Moreover, our relationship was not as intimate as the one she shared with her parents and friends, so I doubted she would heed my plea.
Priscilla held my gaze for a fleeting moment before shaking her head, "No. Not after hearing your story. It made me realize how pathetic I am for considering giving up so readily when you... have endured suffering for many years. It's... not a fitting image for a Student Council President, you know."
I could see the familiar smile return to her face as she spoke those words. I was taken aback, almost unable to believe that my story had deterred Priscilla from her intended course of action... because of me. Should I reveal to her that I'm not as mentally resilient as she perceives me to be? I am susceptible to my thoughts. If it weren't for the sorrow it would inflict upon my parents, I would have departed from this world long ago.
"It's nice being able to converse with you, even though we're not well-acquainted," Priscilla remarked, a smile gracing her lips as she swung her legs. Her upbeat and composed demeanor seemed to have returned. "I never had the opportunity to forge genuine friendships due to my obligations as an honor student."
"Friend...?" I was slightly taken aback by the unexpected term that escaped her lips. I had been wary of forming a bond with her, as I found it difficult to trust anyone easily after my last 'friend' abandoned me. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, my heart fluttered upon hearing that word.
"You know, I never aspired to become the Student Council President. I yearned for the freedom to pursue my interests without any constraints, but I was unable to do so due to my family's expectations," Priscilla confessed, revealing her reluctance to shoulder the responsibility, but she had acquiesced to fulfill her parents' aspirations. "I wanted... to indulge in video games, you know. But of course, my parents disapproved, deeming them to be boys' games and unsuitable for a girl like me."
I scoffed at the absurd reasoning, "That's stupid. Games are meant to be enjoyed by everyone."
"That's precisely what I've been saying!" Priscilla exclaimed, relieved that someone finally concurred with her viewpoint before turning her attention back to me. "What about you, Jarlath? What is it that you desire the most?"
Her question caught me off guard. What do I desire? That's a question I hadn't pondered much. For someone whose existence had been manipulated by life since birth, I was uncertain of my desires. I was merely living in the present, as my future held nothing but misery for me. But... There is one thing that I yearn for more than anything else in this world.
"Normal life," I responded, momentarily startling Priscilla. It required a brief pause before I could elucidate. "Throughout my life, I just want to have an ordinary life. I yearn for companionship. I long to partake in laughter and have fun with my friends. I want to live in a world where I don't have any worries, where I can survive easily because of the people who cared for me."
Priscilla was taken aback by Jarlath's revelation. She had never encountered an individual who had endured such profound mental and physical torment. The agony he had been subjected to since his birth was beyond her comprehension. She was not one to believe in misfortune, but if she did, Jarlath would undoubtedly personify every calamity known to mankind.
"However,that's just a fairytale I developed in my childhood. I could never have that now," I declared, refusing to harbor any illusions of my juvenile wish coming to fruition, particularly in a world spiraling into pandemonium.
Priscilla approached me, gently patting my head as one would a canine, and reassured me, "I don't think so, because I'm here. I am your friend, am I not?"
Her actions and proclamation left me dumbfounded once again, yet I neither rebuffed nor contested them. I was unable to suppress my tears. I was uncertain of her sincerity or whether she would honor her commitment in a world where self-preservation was paramount, but... I harbored a glimmer of hope that she was unlike the characters from the films or the friend whose betrayal I had once endured.
For the first time in my existence, I experienced a sensation that had been absent since the treachery of that friend. I felt... hope. A genuine smile graced my face. It was the first time in two years that my smile had lingered. This peculiar sensation was indeed pleasant.
"I..." I was on the verge of addressing her when the zombies surrounding the HL Supermarket began to violently and manically attempt to breach the building.
The zombies appeared to be in a state of frenzy. Their peculiar behavior earlier had struck me as odd, but their current actions were decidedly aberrant. The panicked cries of the survivors within the supermarket were audible. The situation was dire. If it persisted, everyone would be devoured.
Priscilla swiftly retracted her legs when a zombie made a grab for her, declaring, "We must go back down immediately!"
I merely nodded, rendered speechless by the violent outbursts exhibited by these undead creatures. Their current state evoked memories of the zombies from the 2002 film, 28 Days Later, known for their increased volatility during the night.
I shook my head to dispel the parallels, recognizing the urgency of the situation at hand. I trailed behind Priscilla as we made our descent, all the while the orange hue returned to my vision and the same humanoid monster made a fleeting appearance before vanishing. I was filled with trepidation. This sense of foreboding had been my constant companion since our arrival at this supermarket.