Page 9: Sprinting Through Silence

 

 

Amira sprinted through the desolate streets, her breaths echoing in the eerie silence. After covering about three and a half blocks, she gradually slowed her pace, keenly aware of the need to assess her surroundings. Emerging from the alleyway onto Marguerita Avenue from 7th Court, she surveyed the scene.

 

The street was adorned with abandoned vehicles, adding to the post-apocalyptic atmosphere. A cautious gaze scanned the vicinity. Some scattered figures were visible down the street, heading toward Lincoln Blvd.

 

"Okay..." Amira pondered, her eyes shifting towards 7th Street. "I think that's where I need to be heading." She proceeded in that direction, moving cautiously through the uncertain terrain.

 

The distant echoes of multiple firearms firing in various directions played a disconcerting symphony. "I hope Vince and Seamus are okay," Amira mused aloud, her voice a mere whisper in the unsettling stillness. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her, and her thoughts drifted to the well-being of her loved ones amid the chaos that enveloped the city.

 

Amira navigated the sidewalk, a shadow among the remnants of a once-bustling city. Every step was calculated, every movement deliberate, as she sought to remain unseen by the unpredictable entities that roamed the desolate streets. Amid the haunting stillness, her mind echoed with concerns.

 

The thought of Ruthia lingered, a poignant reminder of the vulnerable child caught in the midst of this nightmarish scenario. Questions gnawed at Amira’s consciousness — the identity of the sinister individual who would snatch a child, and the twisted motives that could drive someone to such depravity during a crisis.

 

Amira stood in the eerie night, a mysterious whisper hanging in the air like a ghostly secret. Uncertain of its source, she hesitated, searching for the voice’s origin. “Over here,” it beckoned once more, drawing her attention to a young man wearing a blue shirt, concealed behind a nearby vehicle.

 

Curiosity overcoming caution, Amira approached him. “Hey,” she greeted, her movements deliberate.

 

“Shh,” he warned, a finger pressed to his lips. “They’re attracted to sound.” He pointed towards two figures huddled at the street corner of 7th Street and Marguerita PIN, they were shadows in the moonlit night.

 

Ducking behind the vehicle, Amira engaged in conversation. “I’m Amira. Are you alone?”

 

“No, I’m Tekk. I’m with my cousin and two friends. We’re looking for my cousin and his girlfriend.”

 

Amira’s concern deepened. “Where is everyone else?”

 

“They’re up there, about to put down those two Farels.”

 

“What?” Amira’s eyes darted up the street towards the two soulless figures. The gravity of the situation sunk in. “What are they doing?” she questioned, her gaze shifting to the other side of the street where Tekk's group readied themselves to attack.

 

“Shh,” Tekk hushed her, irritation evident in his tone. “I told you they’re attracted to sound. You’re going to get us killed.” His attention shifted from Amira to his cousin and friends, focused on the impending confrontation.

 

Surveying the area, Amira discerned Tekk’s role as the lookout. However, his unwavering gaze wasn’t on the lookout for more undead threats but rather fixed on the unfolding action, his eyes glued to the scene without a blink. The tension in the air thickened as the night played host to a dangerous dance between the living and the soulless.

 

"Why won't you guys just go around them?" Amira questioned, her tone laced with frustration.

 

"Shut the hell up, you stupid bitch. You don't run from them. You run to them and put them down," Tekk retorted, attempting to assert his perspective.

 

Amira couldn't help but chuckle in disbelief. As she stood, ready to confront him, the sound of a radio pierced the air. Her instincts kicked in, and she ducked, turning around to confirm her fear. "We gotta move, SWAT," she urgently pushed Tekk along.

 

"Bitch, don't ever touch me—" Boom! A shot rang out before Tekk could finish. Two SWAT officers emerged, efficiently dispatching the undead that lurked in the streets behind Amira and Tekk. "Holy shit!" Tekk exclaimed, staying low and sprinting alongside Amira toward his friends. The unexpected alliance with the SWAT team added a new layer of complexity to their already perilous situation.

 

“Stay down, or they’ll see us,” Tekk instructed Amira as they sprinted along. The two undead figures at the corner diverted their attention toward the SWAT unit, allowing the group to slip away amidst the chaos. Ducking and weaving through the paused traffic, Amira and the others managed to relocate a few blocks away. They were forced down 7th Street, where they made a left on Alta Avenue and continued along before stopping at the corner of Alta Avenue and 7th Court, trying to stay out of the sight of the approaching undead and the pursuing SWAT team.

 

Tekk, his cousin, and one of the friends gathered to talk with Amira, they did not hesitate to let her know that they were not a rescue squad and had no room for her among them. One of the remaining friends stayed back, keeping an eye out for the SWAT team. “Hey, this may be a long shot,” Amira began, her tone urgent. “Have you guys seen a big black man and a little girl, about 8 years old? She's Span—”

 

“No!” Tekk’s cousin sharply cut her off. “If your daughter’s out here, she’s done. We’re looking for my other cousin and his girlfriend. We ain’t got time for your shit.” The young man turned to Tekk. “We gotta find Jake and Lily.” He tapped Tekk on the chest and started away.

 

"Jake’s your cousin? I think I know Jake," Amira said.

 

"Bitch," Tekk's cousin snapped, turning sharply toward Amira. “I don’t play about my family.” He menacingly pulled out a butterfly knife, the blade unfolding with an ominous sound.

 

“Wait,” Amira pleaded, quickly raising her hands in a non-threatening manner. Her instincts kicked in, and she subtly turned to present a smaller target. Hands poised close to her face for defense, her left shoulder instinctively rose, providing a shield for her chin. These defensive maneuvers were second nature, seamlessly executed as she faced the potential threat.

 

“Cut that bitch's tongue out, Ginnard,” Tekk instructed his cousin, drawing a switchblade of his own.

 

“Jake was brown-skinned with wavy hair. He wore an orange shirt, right? Lily… the tattooed white girl?” Amira reassured them.

 

“What the fuck do you mean, he was brown skin? What the hell happened to my cousin?” demanded Ginnard.

 

“The old man we were with shot him.”

 

“What? You mother fuckers killed my people?” Ginnard swung the blade, and Amira instinctively stepped back.

 

“No, we didn't know the old man. He was in the store,” she explained, continuing to retreat with her hands raised.

 

“What fuckin' store?” Ginnard aimed the tip of the blade at Amira’s face as he neared.

 

She kept her hands up, her shoulder raised, and her chin tucked. For every two steps Ginnard took toward her, she took a step back. “Lump that bitch, let's be out, Ginnard!” Tekk yelled from behind, clearly anxious about the approaching SWAT.

 

Amira was confident she could take this guy down if needed. He didn't seem to recognize who she was, or he wouldn't have approached her so recklessly. Deciding it was pointless to engage, she took one more step back, swiftly turned on the balls of her feet, and ran.

 

“Hey!” Ginnard called after Amira. “Bitch, I will kill you!” He sprinted behind her. The others began to follow suit, but they all came to a sudden stop, watching Amira. “Damn, that hoe fast,” Ginnard mumbled.

 

Amira anticipated they wouldn’t be able to keep up. After a while, she noticed the absence of pursuit and slowed her pace. Arriving at the corner, she encountered a sizable group of undead. A few caught sight of her and hastened toward the corner.

 

Backing away, she hesitated. Going back was not an option; she needed to move forward, pushing herself to reach Kate and Junior. A distant scream echoed from behind the houses on Lincoln Court. The sound carried through the streets. The undead that had missed Amira earlier were now on alert, and they all charged from 9th Street, traversing yards and squeezing between houses. Fueled by a sense of urgency, she sprinted down Marguerita Avenue, with the pursuing undead not far enough behind.

 

Approaching Lincoln Court, prepared to make a left turn, she was confronted by a fresh wave of soulless creatures emerging from behind the houses to her right. “Shit!” Amira grumbled at the unwelcome development. The scream rang out once more, the voice now pleading for help, intensifying her determination to press forward.

 

As Amira entered the alleyway, her eyes focused on a man trapped in the front seat of a vehicle, reaching out desperately in vain. The simplicity of unbuckling a seat belt and pulling a door handle seemed lost on these once-humans, highlighting the erosion of basic logic.

 

Reflecting on the pursuers at the scene of Lily and Jake’s demise, Amira pondered aloud, “Did they lose all logic?”

 

Jogging past the stranded car, she reached a brown fence and peered over, attempting to glimpse inside. “Hey, someone there?” she called out, moving on without waiting for a response, realizing that if someone answered, she’d have to circle back.

 

No response came. Amira pressed deeper into the alley. The next house had a partially open white garage door. A woman crying out, “Mei!” reached her ears.

 

Rushing over, Amira crouched down and entered the garage. “Hey!” she called out to a man attacking another. The assailant, his eyes filled with rage and emptiness, turned his gaze toward Amira. The lower half of his face was smeared with the blood of his victim as he growled, tearing meat from the man’s jaw and neck.