It was late in the afternoon. My brother Jason and I were on a routine patrol near our base camp. The streets were deserted and there were cars scattered around. Armed with guns, we were scanning the area for any signs of activity. It had been almost three years since the zombie apocalypse. It started with a freak accident in a science lab, where a virus which turned infected people into zombies was created. The entire staff inside was infected and the disease spread throughout the city within days. Not many survived the epidemic. The survivors fled to the outskirts of the city establishing small colonies. The number of people in the colonies dwindled every day.
My brother and I were the only ones from our family to have survived the outbreak and we had never heard from our parents or sister since.
As we walked down the street, Jason picked up a small doll and stared at it.
"This was Elizabeth's doll," he said. As we looked around, we slowly recognised the area as our old neighbourhood. I pictured children laughing and riding their bikes while the adults were having barbeques in their backyards, chatting and sipping beer at the same time. Now the place was deserted, with papers flying around and the houses left to rot. I remembered the day we fled. People were clamouring and escaping as their infected loved ones attacked them. Our parents were about to put us on the back of an army lorry.
"Take care of your brother and sister, Jason. We'll be with you soon," said my father to Jason. Jason nodded and just as my father was about to help our sister get to the back of the lorry, a zombie attacked him. "Get out of here!" he yelled as more zombies attacked our mother and sister.
As we walked down the road, Jason stopped outside an old house with its door torn off its hinges. "Home," he whispered. We could not deny the familiar surroundings of our home, the letter box and the swing our father had built for us. We had not returned since we left three years ago. Cautiously, I walked into the house.
"You shouldn't go in there. It isn't safe," Jason hissed at me. I beckoned him to follow and he groaned. We got ready our guns and entered the house. The house appeared to be dusty and deserted. Mice and cockroaches were seen scuttling around at times.
"Let's just go," Jason said after we had peered around briefly.
Suddenly, we heard a low moan. "Was that the wind?" I whispered and Jason shook his head in fear. Suddenly, a zombie appeared from the kitchen, smelling of rot and launching itself at us. It landed on top of me, drooling all over my face. Amidst the struggle, I recognised the creature's face. It was our father.
"Stop it, Dad! I'm your son!" I screamed. He ignored me and tried to bite my neck. Suddenly, there was a gunshot and he crumpled to the ground. Jason stood near me, his gun shaking in his hands. As I scrambled to my feet, I saw our mother and sister coming out, moaning at us.
"You can't just kill them!" I yelled at Jason. He ignored me and shot them in the head. "It's best we put them out of their misery," he whispered as he watched them collapsing. As they died, they slowly turned back to human form. Before our father died, he looked up at us and whispered, "My sons, thank you."
We buried them in the garden and took a last glance at our home. Jason stepped on the pedal and we drove off, leaving our home forever.