𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍'𝖘 𝕯𝖔𝖔𝖗 || 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕰𝖓𝖉𝖘

Hi friends!

Welcome to the rewritten version of 'Afterend' now titled 'Death's Door' hope you enjoy! Leave me some to let me know your thoughts.

Warnings: mentions of gore, violence, and adult themes.

“Put your gun down!” One of the three men currently pointing their guns at me screams, his face contorting and his eyebrows rising comically high. In any other situation I would find it funny, but not now. The man cursing me out shakes his gun at the both of us, me and Kylie, causing the latter to flinch. The other two, a tall lanky man with a long beard and a broad-shouldered young man with blue hair, point their guns at us without a word, staring at me so hard I’m sure they’re trying to drill holes into my head.

Despite the fear pumping through my veins, I don’t waver with my gun pointed to the three. They stand across from us, in the middle of the alley we’d ended up in. They could easily shoot me before I could even pull the trigger, their guns much more advanced, but they don’t. This leads me to believe that they were told specifically not to kill me. ‘But by who?” I ignore my own inner monologuing in favor of paying attention to the looters in front of me.

The lanky one begins cursing me out in another language while the original guy continues waving his gun in a dangerous manner. My inner voice wonders if he has the safety on and what’s the chance that he’ll shoot his buddies.

I come back to the present when Kylie slowly shifts away from me as if getting ready to run. I can’t do anything but subtly shake my head, hoping she gets the hint and doesn’t try to bolt. She’d already tried calling for the others which backfired when Mr. Tall and Broad shot the wall right next to her head.

Instead of stopping like I’d hoped she would, she continues to inch closer to the opening of the alley. I’d hoped to stall them until the rest of our group could find us, but if she tries to run it won’t work. I try, a feeble attempt since she still hasn’t stopped, to get her to stop but to no avail. I don’t know how she thinks it will work since the men are blocking the exit and, in case you haven’t noticed, there’s three of them.

She ignores me completely and makes a run for it, and the broad-shouldered one easily catches her around the waist, transferring his gun to the side of her head with his forearm wrapped around her neck. I move my aim to them, aiming for his head but really knowing that this is probably game over. How much longer can I stall?

“Put the gun down or she dies. We don’t need her, just you.” not very long then. I hold out for a second longer, my wrist shaking as if the handgun has suddenly gotten heavier. The sound of the safety turning off does me in, and I quickly put my hands up.

“Alright, alright, take me wherever. Just don’t hurt her.” The heaviness in my heart physically hurts, like a weight dropping right on my chest. I ignore the sting in my nose, a warning of incoming tears, and drop the gun hanging from my fingers. Almost immediately, tall and lanky hurries over to subdue me- and I stare Kylie in the eyes. I can’t find it in me to be angry at her, only worried for her wellbeing- which sucks.

The guy comes behind me and hits me in the back of my knees, causing me to crumple into a kneeling position. I grunt when my knees hit the concrete but manage to hold back any other noises- I’ve been through worse. I frown when I notice that the guy is still holding onto Kylie.

“Let her go, will ya’?” I say, trying to direct the guy's attention at me so he hopefully doesn’t shoot her. He scoffs and presses the barrel of the gun harder into the side of her head, she winces. I glare at the guy until he looks away, uncomfortable.

“Can you knock her out already? I wanna get back.” There’s a sound of a grunt behind me and then something hard hit me in the back of the head. I fall forward from the blow as people start to shout, their voices swimming around me. The gun that I threw lays inches away from my face but I can’t find the strength to move, my vision slowly darkening. There’s a gunshot and then everything fades to black.

25 days earlier.

Day 164.

My back hits the asphalt ground, a twinge of pain traveling up my spine making me grunt. My forearm presses into the decaying neck of the once blonde zombie, my heart beating in my ears is accompanied by the sound of teeth clicking together and snarls.

Grey, lifeless eyes stare down at me without expression. Her face pressing closer and closer to me, trying to take a bite out of my neck. I bite my lip in concentration, drawing blood and making the zombie above me freak out even more than it already had.

I press against it as hard as I can, my arm shaking from the weight. My other hand gropes for my bat, which I’m sure I'd dropped when this thing had tackled me from out of nowhere, where could it have gone?

In the zombie's haste to get to me, it kicks me in the thigh, causing me to lose my grip from the pain. The zombie sinks closer. I panic, trying to think of a way to get the damn thing off when I the knife I'd conveniently put in my pocket after I'd found it in a gas station.

Struggling to hold the zombie off me, I reach my hand next to my thigh, searching for the knife. Sure, it’s dangerous to keep it there since it could most likely stab me, but I think I have more to worry about than a little prick of a knife on my thigh.

I pull from my thoughts when my fingers graze against the hilt of the small blade, my hand closing around it and pulling. Just as I pull it free, my arm finally loses grip and the zombie falls on top of me, aiming its mouth at my shoulder.

I pull the knife free of my pocket, pushing with the rest of my strength - which isn't much considering how much I'm shaking- to push the thing away. Its weight comes of me just enough that I can pull my arm up, knife gripped in my palm.

With as much force as I can muster, I press the knife into the underside of its jaw. It isn't enough to kill it, but it's enough to stun it so I can shove it off, which is exactly what I do.

I scramble to stand up once it’s weight is gone, the knife clattering to the ground as I almost fall over. The sudden movement makes dark spots appear in my vision, temporarily blinding me until I get my bearings.

A few feet away, my metal bat lays on the ground, abandoned. the zombie growls behind me, louder than before with a screech following closely behind. I rush for the bat, the blonde zombie on my heels, practically right on top of me.

I scoop the bat up, the weight like an old friend returning. I grip it in my hand, a year of use making it easy to exactly how to hold it without thought. I push off on my back foot, swinging around and hitting the zombie with a clang, blood hitting my already stained hands.

The zombie staggers, a mess of brain matter and blood, before finally collapsing. If that had been a fresher Z, there's no way I could have killed it with that weak of a swing. But given the fact that its eyes were ready to fall out of its head, it was pretty old.

The bat falls from my weak grasp, my breaths coming out of me in shuddered gasps. Now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, I can feel my entire body shaking from exertion. I'm fairly certain that if there is another zombie in the dinner I intend to inhabit for the night, I may just let it take me.

I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, smearing blood across my forehead with a grimace. I hope the water’s still running or else I'm going to start smelling like the dead. I could already smell like them, who knows.

Finally noticing my backpack resting uncomfortably on my shoulders, I rearrange it so it isn't hanging practically sideways. I kneel down to pick up my bat, my arms shaking from just the lightweight of it, and I sigh while resting it in one hand and trying to ignore the twinge of pain in my biceps.

I carefully step over the now twice dead zombie, trying not to get more zombie juices on me than I already have. Fearful that the zombie might pull a horror movie cliche, I watch its hands while I reach down to grab the knife that had fallen out of its chin.

After retrieving the blade, I pocket it like before since it will probably save my life again. I look around at the scene one more time, my heart still thumping wildly as if in mid-battle, and turn my back to it. ahead of me, the dark red and bright yellow diner looms over me. A large sign stating that they now sell chili dogs sits just to the right of the building.

No cars are in the parking lot, which makes me hopeful that there are no dead bodies inside. I make my way to the front doors which are miraculously untouched despite the building across the street which looks like a tornado went through it. I press against the door with a frown when it opens. Something feels off, how on earth could this building be in perfect condition? It doesn't make sense. I shake my head, opting to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

Inside, it remains just as untouched as the outside, and I would be baffled if I wasn't so excited at the prospect of running water. With a little bit more speed in my step, I make a b-line to the door with 'bathroom' on it in big letters. I push the red door open to find the space relatively clean, which in itself is odd for a town like this.

Dropping my bag in the corner against the wall, I avoid looking at the mirror by staring at the faucet. My shaking hands touch the cold knobs and I can't help but feel excited. I haven't had a bath since I'd left the farm, which was quite a while ago. Usually, I'd just stand under the rain and scrub at my arms. It's not very effective.

I turn the knobs and to my surprise (and joy) water comes out as if the apocalypse had never happened. I was happy, but also slightly confused. For the water to be running, someone must be keeping it going- but who? It's probably best if I leave this town as soon as I can.

I press my hands under the water, staring at them to avoid the mirror, and scrub as hard as I can. There's no soap in the bathroom, but I can make do.

As if the mirror had personified, I could feel the need to look into it haunting me. The truth is, I don't want to see what I've become. How ragged I look, my nails have already been stained with blood and dirt what would my face look like? In the end, I give in to the feeling and look up.

In the mirror, is a completely different woman than I had previously known. My strawberry blonde hair looks more brown than blonde, in ratty tangles that are starting to resemble dreadlocks. My sunkissed skin from days on the farm looks burnt and abused. Bright blue eyes that girls at my school used to want, turned dead and lifeless.

The scar from before the apocalypse, the one that runs from the left corner of my forehead to the right side of my nose, looks more prominent than usual. The new scars I'd gotten, -the road scratches I had from the time a Zombie dragged me down the road to try and get to me, or the one I'd gotten when a Zombie has scratched my jaw to oblivion- made me look warn and older, like I'd been through life despite the fact that I'm only 24. My cheeks are gaunt and my body is thin with malnutrition, with slightly more muscle, but still thin. Anyone who ever made the apocalypse out to be romantic is an idiot.

I turn away from the mirror and back to the water, and then I get to work.

some minutes later I've finally gotten some of the dirt from my body, and I pull my clothes back on. The running shoes feel dirty but I need them, so I deal with it. I'd already given up on bras, which was easy for me because I didn't have much to fill a bra with. Plus, there is no one around to care if I wear a bra or not.

Once I've finished pulling on my clothes, I pick up my stuff once again and make sure everything is there. I leave the bathroom, a little sad that I have to leave the running water but I know that this town is a bit sketchy- well maybe a lot sketchy.

I reach for the handle of the diner door, disappointed that I can't spend the night like I originally planned. I press open the door, and at the moment a scream from not that far away echoes down the street.