So, this is a short story that I have written for the contest hosted by Contests-Rants

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She was a murderer.

Or an attempted murderer, considering that I didn't die. Oh good lord, I could've died. But I guess charges for murder can't be pressed when the world is about to end. And how often does that happen?

"And here I am on probably one of my last days stuck with you," she continued.

She was right. She was "stuck" with me. I'd been bitching at her for the last three hours. But there's only so much polite you can be to someone when you've been stabbed by the said someone.

The thought of being stabbed and left for dead bathing in my own blood brought shivers back to my spine. I handed her the bottle again hesitating as to not touch her. I didn't want anything to do with her.

She left me to die, for Christ's shake. Well, that is until she came back after and nursed me. I don't really remember what happened much after being stabbed. I remember seeing her name tag, being dragged somewhere and getting stitched. I'd fallen asleep after that and just woke up about three hours ago.

"How long have I been out?" I asked her, not offended by her remark.

"Twenty three hours and thirteen minutes," she replied brushing the hair from her cheek behind her ear with a perfect, cliché move.

"What? Twenty three- what the heck have you been doing?" I asked her.

"Closed off all the exists ad blocked every line of vision. They can't see us in here," she explained. Her face had a conflict of different emotions running through them. Pride was one of them.

I grunted as I sat up leaning against the counter just as her.

"So, Becca...ahem...tell me, how old are you?" I asked trying to strike up a conversation. If we were gonna be stuck like that with just each other for company, we might as well talk. Plus a small talk never hurt anyone.

"You can't just go around asking a girl's age, you know," she answered.

"See this is the thing about girls," I protested. "You can't ask their age but will bite your head off if you forget their birthday," I finished.

"I don't ask you to wish me my birthday and I'm not tempted to tell you my age. How's that?" She challenged. I stifled a laugh and tuned to another side silently munching on my granola bar.

She let out a sigh. "I'm seventeen."

"What? Aren't you too young to be going around stabbing people like that?" I mocked her seeing her face turning pale. She smacked my arm, which didn't hurt, by the way.

Yep, I was not letting her live this down.

"That was one time and I thought you were a zombie!" She looked hurt. Like the guilt was overwhelming her.

"Oh, yeah, because me crying "hello" was not enough to be considered human." I scowled at her.

She muttered something under her breathe, barely audible.

"What?" I called.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Her face didn't say otherwise. She looked sad, the guilt of almost taking the life of another human being, which coincidentally was me, mind you, was too much for her to bear.

"It's okay. I was just messing with you," I tried. The last thing I wanted was a girl sobbing uncontrollably on my chest.

"So tell me, how'd you end up here?" I was quick to change the topic.

"I'm gonna go check on the doors." She muttered and quickly jumped over the counter and walked away. She wasn't wearing the same clothes as when I had fallen asleep, I noticed.

*~*~*

"Hey, what's that you're drawing?" I asked her, almost irritated by the silence. It'd been a week since the "crisis" broke out and we were still living inside the mall, eating packed stuff and sleeping on whatever bed we could find on the furniture section.

Although we started off on the wrong foot with her stabbing me and all, things were okay between us. Except that she was quiet most of the times. So far I'd only found out her full name, which was Becca Williams, her favorite food, which was cake, and that she was still in school.

I understood she was scared, sad. Hell I didn't even know where my mom was. But what good was sitting around and moping gonna do?

"Becca." I called again.

She sighed and gave me a flat look. "Nothing. Random stuff about things I've seen or I want to see." Was her answer.

"May I?" I asked, extending a hand. She eyed me for a while, deciding whether showing me was worth it or not. Finally she sighed and handed me the small notepad.

I opened the first page.

There was a picture to two stick-men; one lying on the floor and another kneeling beside it. So that must be me on the floor and her beside me. Wasn't an impressive drawing but I liked the thought.

I turned the page.

In this one the stick-men were sitting behind a desk and a dinosaur was on the other side.
I didn't know what to deduce from that one. There was us behind the counter with food scattered, I got that much. What the heck was up with that dinosaur thingy?

Maybe she thought of the zombies as that monster. Maybe she was right, they were monsters. But if nature was to choose them over humans, well you know how it is with nature.

I turned to another page.

In the third one the stick-men were standing in front of a door and the area outside the door was all scribbled. Other stick-men were in the dark, some missing their limbs. Now that one had a deep meaning. Like we were the only ones in the light and the world outside was dark. The creatures lurked around in the dark like guardians of the night.

The next page was blank and the next and the next....

I handed her the notepad. "You've got great skills," I complimented her not knowing what else to say.

She just smiled at me and started scribbling on the pad again.

Another week passed and I was getting very sick of eating chips and diet coke.

Becca's drawings started to change from things she'd seen to things she'd want to see like a sun rising over the hills and everybody gathered together celebrating. I didn't question her drawings or her past. She never told me about her parents or how she ended up in that mall. In a while I stopped asking.

"Becca!" I called from the counter. She wasn't there. Usually it was the place where we found each other after exploring the mall or checking on the closed doors.

I climbed the stares reaching the food section.

"Becca?" I called again.

"Here, Troy." A small voice replied from somewhere in the floor.

I ran around the floor looking at the shelves and the floor. She wasn't there.

"Becca?" I called, yet again.

"Here!" She yelled from the far end.

I sprinted my way to the end shelf to find her sitting on the floor with her knees brought up to her chest.

"Hey, what happened?" I knelt beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. She leaned onto my chest and started sobbing.

"It's okay. It's okay to cry sometimes. Everything is fine. You'll be okay." I was trying to convince myself with those words more than her. She wasn't the only one doubting our existence. I just didn't show it like she did.

"I'm scared, Troy. I'm scared that we wont make it. I'm scared that we will die in here, or worse, be like one of them." She said in between her sobs.

"No, we'll survive this. We will pull through this chaos. Together," I added.

"How? Seventy five percent of human population has gone against the rest twenty five. There is no math here."

I silently agreed, but didn't say anything to her. Instead I said, "come on, lets get you to bed, okay?"

I stood up, pulling her with me. She slowly walked ahead of me. I helped her up the stairs, into the furniture section and onto a bed.

Pulling the mattress over her body, I turned to leave but she stopped me clutching on my sleeve.

I looked down at her; her eyes were full of sorrow. I knew one of these days I'd fall in love with her eyes.

I looked away but sat down beside her nonetheless.

"I'm sorry I cried. I didn't mean to..." Her voice cracked. She was ready for another round of tears.

"Hey, it's okay to cry. Everybody cries. You don't have to be a badass zombie-fighting superhero all the time. Crying is normal." I consoled her.

She chuckled which ended up into her going into a fit of coughs. I held her shoulder and rubbed her back as she regained her breath again. She moved closer into my arms and pulled me down on the bed, resting her head on my chest.

"You know my parents, they....they were here that day," she said. I didn't have to ask which day she was talking about.

"We were in the parking lot. We got out and walked up front when mom remembered she left her purse in the car. And then-" she couldn't hold it in anymore and out came her tears. Man, my chest was gonna be all covered in snot. But the girl was more important than the shirt I'd borrowed from the mall.

"Me and dad, we were watching and..." She continued with her shaky voice. "Dad told me to run, so I did. I didn't wait for him. And just as I was about to enter the mall, I looked back.... I lost my dad to something that had once been my mom." She finished, her voice almost inaudible.

She'd already told me the story after she entered the mall. She'd killed three other zombies. I was surprised to find that the blood on her clothes was not only from my body.

"I'm sorry." I said in a low voice, rubbing her shoulder with my right hand.

"It's all my fault. I didn't wait for him. I didn't check if he was following me..."

"Shhh." I put my hand over her mouth to shut her up. "It's not your fault. Someone had to stay back to slow down the hoard. Your dad died a hero." She nodded.

"Thanks, Troy," she said looking up to me, her bloodshot eyes had eased a little.

Ending up having sex in one of mall's bed during a zombie apocalypse was not what I had in my mind, and I didn't end up like that. But, I ended up kissing her. It was a quick kiss, one I couldn't even return. She came forward and as soon her lips touched mine she backed away, pushing herself completely off my chest.

"What? My eight pack abs were not comfortable?" I tried to joke.

And it worked; she laughed and said, "I know all about your abs, Troy, I stitched you remember?"

"I knew it!" I yelled. "No wonder I woke up only after twenty three hours. You gave me drugs and were drooling all over my body! I feel exploited!" I finished bringing my hands up to my chest in a defensive manner.

She smacked my chest, but didn't deny it.

*~*~*

"Becca." I whisper-yelled shaking her a little. Somewhere along the line, she'd come closer to cuddle with me whilst asleep. Well, I was asleep. Perhaps it was intentional.

She almost yelled seeing my face close to her as she woke up. I covered her mouth with my hand, muffling her voice.

"Hear that?" I asked in a whisper.

She took in the atmosphere as her eyes widened. She nodded. "You think we should go check it out?" She asked.

"We probably should. But all the horror movies have taught us that if we do that we will most likely die." I broke it to her.

"But we can't just stay here. What if it's a zombie?" She asked again.
"There is no 'if' here, it is a zombie. Or a hoard of them. But here's what we will do: we'll take turns to guard whilst the other one sleeps, that way we can kill the zombie if it appears. If it is a hoard of them...well there is no luck there, is it?" I finished.

She thought for a while, even in the dark I could notice the lines on her forehead. She didn't answer.

I tried to get off the bed but she clutched my arm pulling me down to it again.

"Stay here, please?" She whispered in a low voice. If it wasn't quiet there I wouldn't have heard it.

I moved closer to her, finally trying for that kiss that we left unfinished, but she backed away.

I turned away from her. No luck there.

"Let's play a game," I suggested.

"Sure. What game?" She agreed.

"Ah, twenty questions?"

"Sure."

"You start."

"Okay. Um, what's your full name?"

"My full name is Troy Francis Hooper." She giggled at that.

"What?" I asked, almost angry.

"Nothing, your turn."

I gave her a stare for a moment which I suppose she didn't see because of the dark. Sighing I asked, "Okay, what's your favorite color?"

"Purple," she answered as soon as I asked.

"Purple? Seriously? Of all the colors, your favorite color is purple?"

"You got a problem with that, mister?" She said poking my ribs. I laughed at that causing her to laugh. We ended up in the same position again, she cuddling to my chest.

What the heck was that even about? She didn't want to kiss me but wanted to cuddle with me like I'm the last person she'll see? Well, maybe I was the last person she'd see, but still. Damn, I'm whining now.

The questions started getting more intense between us, like about her family or what was the dream I'd like to achieve before I died.

"Are you a virgin?" Was my question. She stopped drawing circles on my chest and looked up at me. I kept looking at her. She shook her head and buried her head on my chest.

"You are blushing right now, I can tell. You're a virgin, aren't you?" I mocked her.

"So what if I haven't slept with anyone yet. I'm just seventeen, jeez," she whined.

"Well you are sleeping with me, just not in the fun way," I muttered. "So you haven't slept with anyone, eh? But you're so beautiful."

"So?"

"Nothing."

*~*~*

"You're a very heavy sleeper," she cried at me just as I opened my eyes. I rubbed my eyes taking in her appearance. She was standing beside the bed with her hands covered in blood.

On reflex my hands reached my abdomen; the bandage was still there and I wasn't bleeding.

I sat up to see a dead human lying beside her with blood all over his body and his brain floating on the blood.

"What happened?" I asked biting back a sudden urge to throw up.

"Do I even need to say?" She motioned to the body lying on the floor.

"There'll be more. If one found it's way in, there will be more," I stated.

"Yes, that is why you need to get off your ass and help me find them so we can kill them also," she said throwing a large butcher's knife towards my direction.

So the fragile, vulnerable girl who cried on my chest was gone and the badass zombie-fighting superhero was back.

I took the blood-stained knife in my left and followed her to the stairs. We were quiet on our way down to the food section and the counter; the front door was still shut meaning they didn't come through there.

Becca had covered all the glasses with clothes or bedsheets, the day I was stabbed. All the covers were still in their place.

All the while I made jokes about how beautiful girls died first in all horror movies just to cover up my fear.

We ended our search back on the counter; no walking dead on sight.

Becca sat down beside me. "You think he could've been the only one?"

"I don't know. What I do know is that we can't stay in here for long. It's dangerous."

She gave me a disapproving look but didn't disagree with my conclusion. She sighed and looked at me again.

"What?" I asked popping a salted chip into my mouth.

"Nothing." She shook her head.

What happened next felt like it happened in slow motion. Somewhere from the other side of the counter a woman appeared biting Becca on her left collarbone. The loud bang on the counter table meant that the woman had jumped from somewhere. An ear-piercing cry escaped Becca's throat as she fell to the floor with the woman now on top of her.

On a reflex I swung my hand towards her direction. The knife found it's way into the woman's skull ending the struggle for Becca to get away from the woman's grasps.

Pounding started on the front door meaning that the ones outside heard the bang or the cry.

My knife fell to the floor as Becca sat up again, clutching her collarbone with her right hand. She took the knife and stabbed the woman through her back.

She turned towards me whispering "Troy" in a pained voice. My hands fell to the either side of my body.

"Becca." I whispered. We both knew what was coming.

The pounding on the front door was getting faster and louder, to the point that I could confuse the pounding to my heart beating.

She gave me once last look before putting the knife through her throat. I didn't react, I knew that was coming.

She fell to the ground on her stomach. I caught hint of a notepad inside the back pocket of her jeans. Taking in a deep breath I pulled the notepad out of her pocket.

There on the last page of the notepad was a picture of two stickmen holding hands, walking towards the sunrise. A teardrop rolled down my cheek.

I could still make a run for my life. I could still hide somewhere and survive for as long as I could but saw no point in that.

I shut the notepad just as I heard the shattering of glass.

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Sorry I couldn't post pictures, wattpad didn't let me :(. Hope you enjoyed the story. Again, this story is for the contest hosted by Contests-Rants

Thank you for reading.

Lots of love.

~Hunt.