"I-I can't do this…I can't," Aran screamed inside his head, cowering behind the window, his heart hammering in his chest as he prayed with his eyes closed that the zombie moving up the window of the second floor hadn't heard him.
There were already more than one in the house and because he couldn't hold back his curiosity, now there was a high chance of them becoming three.
"Is this how I'm going to die?" Aran asked himself, staring at the mole sign staring him in the face, a few steps away from where he was kneeling.
Picking the sign meant he could never again pick another and he would be stuck with it.
In the zombie game he had played, one of the reasons he couldn't win or defeat some powerful zombies was because of the elephant sign he had chosen.
This was real life and he could take the mole sign and survive for a while, but he would never truly be safe with such a weak sign that was mostly good for digging.
"I need to wait and find the fly sign," Aran thought recalling it being one of the most powerful signs he came across in the game.
But not picking the red mole sign also meant death since he would have no choice but to kill three zombies all by himself while trying not to attract any attention from the ones roaming around the house.
"Urgh…and why does the mole have to be red? It's like the world itself is against me," Aran thought recalling how red was the weakest and yellow was somewhere in between with black being the strongest in the same class of signs.
"I need to pee,"
The thought suddenly flashed across his mind, as tears threatened to spill from his eyes when,
"GRAAaaaaaa!," came a sudden growl from right above his head, as he instantly became aware that his bladder was the least of his problems.
At that moment, Aran began to visibly shake.
He not only had no weapons but he was also surrounded.
There was a zombie behind him, which from what he had seen and the sharp claws of it's hands was the one he needed to avoid the most even with others roaming downstairs.
Aran was still lost in his thoughts when a sharp screeching sound of nails against the glass window above him jerked him away from it.
He looked back, his eyes instantly meeting those of the zombie hanging on to his window, through the holes in the thick curtains separating them.
Aran shot up and ran.
Straight for the door, glancing again at the mole sign, feeling his determination waver slightly as he passed it wondering how he would survive by himself.
"First I need weapons," Aran thought hesitating again at the door, surprised to hear a loud growling noise not too far away in the corridor,
But just as he stood beside the door, the only window in his parent's room the one he had been kneeling under broke, with large shards flying in as the sharp clawed zombie also flew in.
One glance was enough for Aran to see the zombie dressed in a white tattared shirt that bordered on brown, drop a few feet away from him. His feet bleed carelessly as he stepped on tiny pieces of glass without any care in the world, his now red eyes, zoning on Aran the second he entered the room.
"Our neighbour," the fleeting thought flashed through his mind, but that was all the motivation Aran needed to flee.
He ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him as quickly as he could, his heart thumping in his chest as he heard the zombie slam himself against it a second latter.
The sound of the door slam and that of the zombie continuously hitting it with all the force he could echoed through the entire house.
Still, Aran stood in the corridor, holding onto the door handle to stop the zombie from coming out of it, as he looked to his left, his only escape route which was the stairs.
On his right was nothing but the end of the corridor that led to a small store room where his parents kept all the things they would have otherwise kept in the basement.
He was just letting go of the door handle, about to run straight for the stairs when he slowly saw a teenage zombie girl with one of her legs broken crawl up the stairs, snarling as loud as she could the second she laid eyes on him.
"Shit…" Aran cursed running forward regardless of his vision blurring a little as his eyes watered from the anxiety he felt at going head to head with a zombie, even if she looked small and disabled, compared to the middle-aged man with sharp claws he knew was seconds away from crashing open the door.
He was also fast enough with two good legs to pounce on him if he caught up.
In a fleeting moment, Aran chose his poison, running as fast as he could in the direction of the stairs, hoping to avoid the disabled zombie trying to balance on one of her legs, with huge chunks of her arms missing as she wobbled and pointed them in Aran's direction.
Aran felt a slight sense of ease in his chest the closer he got to her, seeing how slow her movements were and was already dancing for joy in his heart at the thought of getting back to his basement and using the side door to escape instead of the front door that was swimming with zombies when, he noticed a small but large body pop up at the bottom of the stairs he had almost gotten to.
It was a short boy with a huge and chubby body size that was definitely two times that of Aran's own.
The instant Aran saw him, running up the stairs at a healthy zombie pace, Aran's steps faltered as he came to an instant stop, already backing off and regretting his choice.
However before he could regret it any further, he heard the sound of a door being forcefully bashed open from behind him.
"Boom!"
I'm scared.
Is this the end of cowardly Aran?
I promise he gets better at killing zombies later on.