Chapter Five

The walk up the winding brick path to the front door felt deceptively short, yet within my mind, each step seemed to stretch into eternity. The air was thick with anticipation, and I was acutely aware of my surroundings as I approached the old, yellow paint-chipped oak door, its surface weathered by time. I paused for a brief moment, inhaling deeply to steady my racing heart. It must be a new habit I'm developing. My eyes darted across the yard, scanning for any shadows that crept between the overgrown rose bushes, anything that might hint at danger lurking in the growing afternoon light. Clutching the cold, slightly open door handle, I slowly pushed it open further, the creak echoing in the silence, and stepped inside with caution.

The house welcomed me with an unsettling stillness, its stillness thick and oppressive. With a sudden burst of determination, I threw the door wide open, the sound reverberating as it slammed against the opposite wall. My grip tightened around the metal bat in my hands, my body pressed against the wall, heart pounding, praying that if anything was lurking inside, it would rush past me and out into the daylight. The room remained empty and silent, yet the tension hung thick in the air.

Peering into the shadowy interior, I noted the small shards of shattered porcelain scattered across the floor. A shiver ran down my spine as I cast one last glance at the now-locked gate behind me before stepping further inside. Each cautious footfall took me deeper into the heart of the house. Splashes of color adorned every corner of the cozy space, from vibrant throws draped over the furniture to cheerful paintings that brought the room to life. The house was just as I remembered, with framed photographs lining the walls, each one capturing a moment frozen in time. Somehow, the eyes I've seen countless times seemed mocking. The only sound I could discern in the house was the relentless thumping of my heart. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

As I crossed the worn threshold into the family room, I stumbled over some overturned furniture, the chaotic scene creating a sense of disarray that mirrored my own growing anxiety. Fragments of porcelain lay strewn across the grey carpet, leading ominously to what had once been Adam's grandmother's urn. Ashes were smeared along the pathway, gradually fading into footprints that ventured deeper into the narrow hallway. I swallowed hard, my hand instinctively wiping down my pants as I noticed the oppressive heat wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. Bat held high, I followed the trail of prints, every step drawing me closer to an impending dread, like a character in a horror movie, desperately being urged to flee.

The dim hallway before me seemed to stretch endlessly, a claustrophobic tunnel engulfed in darkness and uncertainty. Then, piercing through the silence, I heard it—a faint but unmistakable thump against the wall, an unsettling noise originating from the corner around the bend. It was coming from Adam's room.

My gaze lingered on a family picture that hung askew on the wall in front of me, its frame slightly dusted with time. In the photograph, Adam stood on the right, his goofy grin illuminating the entire scene. He proudly held up his very first vinyl record, the cover vibrant and slightly worn, hinting at the countless hours of music and memories it contained. Beside him, his parents knelt, their faces radiating warmth and affection. The soft curve of their smiles reflected a deep joy in that moment. As I looked at the image, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, stirring a bittersweet warmth in my chest, even as the shadows of the present began to creep in around the edges.

I slowly creaked open the suddenly heavy door, a wave of unease washing over me as I half-expected to stumble upon a scene of unspeakable horror. The hinges protested with a low groan, and in that tense moment, I peered into the dimly lit room where Adam typically spent his time. My heart raced, each beat echoing loudly in my ears, as I stepped cautiously through the doorway.

In the dim light, a figure stood with its back to me, swaying gently as if caught in some unseen rhythm. A sudden rush of relief surged through me, quickly followed by confusion. Adam would never wear a collared shirt—his casual style never strayed from graphic tees, plaid shirts, and well-worn jeans. Yet, this figure was draped in an ill-fitting blue collared shirt that seemed strangely out of place. I squinted, trying to discern any familiar details, a part of me bracing for the worst. As I took another tentative step forward, the wooden floor creaked beneath my feet, amplifying the tension in the air.

As if sensing my presence or perhaps my inner turmoil, the figure turned suddenly, the movement sending a chill down my spine. It wasn't Adam. My breath hitched as I braced myself.

The thing that stood before me was vaguely human. Its skin was a sickly grey, stretched taut over bone, and its eyes were vacant, milky orbs. A strip of flesh coated with coagulated blood hung from its jawbone, and a viscous drool dripped from its gaping mouth, revealing blackened teeth.

I froze, momentarily paralyzed by the horror. It lurched towards me, a guttural growl escaping its throat. Snapping to attention, the instinct to survive finally overturned the shock. I swung the metal bat as hard as I could, connecting with a sickening thud against the figure's temple. It stumbled, before falling like dead weight. I grabbed the bat with both hands before bringing it over my head and slamming it down with wide eyes.

It wasn't anything like the movies. Blood didn't splatter everywhere, and its head didn't cave in, but I knew it was dead. It lay eerily still as I stepped over it. I slowly turned my attention to Adam's bathroom, as his room lay practically untouched aside from the dark spots of ash lingering near the bathroom door and the brown blood smeared near the handle.

I reached for the dirty handle without breathing, only to find it locked. "Adam?" I whispered.

Silence enveloped the room, thick with tension, before the soft sound of shuffling reached my ears. "Adam?" I called out, my voice resonating in the stillness as I raised my hand, poised to knock on the door. But before my knuckles could connect with the surface, the door swung open abruptly, and I found myself enveloped in a tight, urgent embrace that knocked the breath from my lungs.

In that moment, I barely registered anything except the sight of Adam's tear-filled eyes, which were now closer than I had ever seen them. His complexion was ghostly pale, smeared with streaks of ash, yet the overwhelming relief of seeing him alive was almost enough to drown out the panic that had been building inside me.

"Ciprian!" he gasped, his voice thick with emotion, a mixture of relief and disbelief washing over his features. "You're here!"

I cupped his face in my trembling hands, desperate for some assurance. "Are you okay?" I murmured, urgency threading through my words.

Adam buried his face in the crook of my neck, his sobs breaking free like a dam had burst. I winced at the sudden rush of emotion but instinctively patted his back, my heart racing. We lingered in that moment, a world of raw feelings engulfing us, until he finally pulled back. A flash of concern shot through me as he suddenly jerked upwards, gripping my arm with a force that felt like a lifeline, and dragged me into the bathroom, slamming the door behind us.

The bathroom was cramped, with hardly any space to move around. In one corner, a small sink was awkwardly squeezed in, its porcelain surface slightly chipped from years of use. Next to it, a toilet was pressed tightly against the wall, leaving barely any room to maneuver. Opposite them stood a meager tub, its faded enamel showing signs of wear. The overall atmosphere felt constricted, as if each fixture was fighting for its own small slice of space in this tiny sanctuary.

I could sense the panic radiating off him in waves, and I quickly placed my hand on his arm, grounding him. "I already took care of it," I reassured him, my tone steady and calm, as I met his wide eyes again. "We're alright."

I let my gaze linger for a heartbeat before repeating, "Everything is safe and being taken care of." As I trailed my fingers gently down his arm, I intertwined our hands in a silent promise. I tugged him gently, moving him from the door to create space. "I promise."

Adam's eyes searched mine; the tears that once threatened to overflow seemed to dissipate. Suddenly aware of how close our faces had been, I inched backwards, a rush of heat rushing to my ears as I released his hand. He clutched my fingers tightly for a moment before I managed to let go, dismissing the sensation as mere fear tightening his grip.

"Let me finish taking care of that before you leave this room, alright? Just wait here for me." My gaze faltered, avoiding his piercing stare as flustered warmth consumed me.

Just as I turned the handle, I felt a surge of warmth and desperation behind me as he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

"No," he whispered, his voice low and determined.

I halted, confusion flooding my mind. "No?" I echoed, my brow furrowing slightly at the unexpected refusal.

"No," he repeated with an intensity that made my heart race. "If you leave this room, I'm going too."

I shot an annoyed look at him over my left shoulder. His face was unusually close. His eyes seemed to look down at me, stern with resolve. "Goddamn it, Adam. Fine. Get off of me." I huff. I tried to ignore the feeling of my ears growing hotter.

As he slowly released me, I looked back again to grab his hand in mine. "Close your fu&^ing eyes, moron.' I muttered pissed, "And don't even think about opening them until I say so. Got it?"

The soft hum of agreement met my ears, and I knew he would do as I asked. I didn't have to look back again to know he had a weak cheeky grin on as he did it either. With bated breath, I led him over the corpse with my hand firmly over his eyes, not wanting him to see, before finally just pulling him by his right hand towards the kitchen.

As we stepped into the dimly lit room, a sense of unease settled over me. The light from the sink's small window cast shadows across the space, drawing my attention to his phone, which was plastered with a collection of colorful band stickers. It lay carelessly abandoned on the dining table, as if an afterthought amid the unfolding chaos. With a gentle nudge, I prompted him to open his eyes and retrieve it. He reached over, hand still in mine, and swiped his left thumb across the cracked screen.

Instantly, a flood of notifications appeared, revealing a barrage of missed calls and frantic text messages from his parents. I felt my heart race as I scanned the content over his shoulder, hoping for any glimmer of good news. One message stood out. They had managed to escape their disorienting ordeal and were safe, at least for the moment. They were currently holed up with a friend who lived just a couple of miles from their workplace. However, their relief was overshadowed by the grim reality outside—the streets were swarming with infected individuals, making any attempt to leave their temporary refuge impossible for the time being.

A mix of relief and anxiety gnawed at me as I contemplated their precarious situation. Just how long could they remain in hiding while the chaos raged beyond their door?

Feeling a surge of anxious energy, I pulled out my neglected phone as well, my fingers trembling slightly as I unlocked it. As I scanned through my notifications, a sense of dread washed over me when I noticed a series of urgent texts from my parents. Each message was more alarming than the last, detailing the growing chaos outside our usual haven. My mom had reached out multiple times, her anxious tone clear as she asked if I had seen the news recently.

She described the widespread panic gripping the city, with harrowing reports emerging about individuals seemingly resorting to cannibalism. The streets were in disarray, with vehicles overturned and people fleeing in all directions. She warned me that the army had been deployed, engaging with the chaos in an attempt to restore some semblance of order.

I lowered my phone. Could I keep us safe, or would we get caught up in the turmoil that seemed to be closing in around us?