Evan John is 13 years old and lives a few doors away from me with his family. Earlier this year, Evan asked me to read some of the short stories he’d written. I was so impressed with them that I asked him to write one which I could publish on my blog. Evan is looking for feedback on his story and writing, so please do leave him some.
The Final Day Of Hell
It took me a year as it spread like a wild fire in a forest. I was the only one left. Everything was destroyed within hours. I couldn’t leave, I was trapped. I didn’t mean for it to happen, I was just trying to help. I was trying to save him. I still don’t know what went wrong but all I knew at the time was that I had to find a cure, and fast.
As I ran down the side alley behind the old Queens pub, my head was full of thoughts. I had finally found the final piece to the most complex puzzle. My sword clenched in my hands, my head craning in every direction on the look out. That day was surprisingly quiet, thankfully. I had been moving between my laboratory and every university, college and school with a sophisticated enough science department within 1 mile. I also had to go by foot because I didn’t know how to hotwire a car, but it kept me fit.
As I turned a corner, I saw a small group of them feasting on something I couldn’t see. I quickly ducked behind a bin, gripping my sword tight, preparing to fight. In my head, I counted to three and burst out from behind the bin and charged towards the group. I slammed my foot into the closet one hard, knocking it to the ground. With a quick slice to my left, I protected myself from a flailing arm lunging towards me. I then side stepped out the way of another attack, did a low roundhouse kick to the vile creature, unbalancing it. With a final vertical slice, I decapitated it.
The gruesome creature I had knocked down before was now back up and coming for me. Obviously, zombies don’t know when to quit! I held my ground and let the zombie come to me. When it was close, it swung at me with its deformed arm. I ducked underneath it and spun around. With the zombie’s back to me, I stomp kicked it, sending it flying head first into a wheelie bin. Then I closed the lid and pushed the bin to a set of nearby stairs. “Sayonara ” I shouted as I pushed the bin down the stairs and watched as it bounced down them. With it all over, I leaned up against the side of a truck to catch my breath.
After a few minutes, I stood and started moving again. It took another five minutes for me to get back to my lab. I arrived at the huge metal door that was the entrance. I lifted up the brick that hid the secret button to open the first door. I pressed it and, with a crunch, the door opened. I went through it and pushed it until it clicked.
The second door had a series of locks on it. It took me about two minutes to unlock it. Once through the door, I re-locked it by pulling a series of handles and pushing buttons. I then quickly went through the dark corridor and straight to my mixing station. I carefully placed my bag down on the counter and laid out its contents.
On the scavenge, I had recovered the final ingredient I needed to make the cure. Along with that, I found more batteries, a few different parts from a broken motorcycle and three flares. Next, I went over to the mixing cylinder. I poured the mixture from the test tube into the first cylinder chamber. Already in the second cylinder chamber was the other part of the cure, which I had gradually made and developed over the weeks and months since this hell had begun.
Once I tightened the cylinders and checked everything was in order, I turned it on. With a whirr, the machine started to turn, combining the 2 mixtures together. I moved to my desk where my computer was at work collecting the data from the mixer. The algorithm told me that the chemicals were binding. With a sigh of relief, I sat down. I had finally done it. I could finally redeem myself and save my city. I had completed part one of my plan at last. Now it was time to initiate operation Posterum.
About half an hour after I had turned on the mixing machine, it started to bleep. The cure was finally done. I excitedly ran over to the machine and turned it off. I then lifted the heavy container in the centre of the two other cylinders and dragged it over to the armoury. The ‘ armoury ’ was more of a room with anything I could have used to defend myself with. From golf clubs to cricket bats, to guns and swords. What I would need from there that day would be the G60 Xpro rifle. This would be what I would use to shoot the darts, filled with the cure to change them, at the zombies. I took the gun out of its box, along with 300 darts and the 30 ten dart magazines.
It took me 15 minutes to fill up all the darts and pack them into my bag. I strapped my sword to my back and headed back down the corridor towards the doors. Instead of going through the front doors, I took a left and headed for the back door. After a few more turns, I got to the heavy steel door. I pulled off the barrier and dragged it open. I stepped through into the open, to see the moon glistening. I yanked back the door and waited for my contraption to re-lock the door. When I heard the bang, I set out.
I headed towards the town square, where most of the zombies in the area were. I had an idea where I could go and have the best angle to fire at them. After a few minutes of running, I got to the edge of the town square. I crouched down next to an abandoned car and opened my rucksack. I pulled out the flare I had found earlier in the day. My plan was to shoot the flare into the centre of the square to attract the disgusting beasts, and then gun them down. But, before I put my plan into action, I had to get into the best shooting spot.
Just a few meters away was a ladder that took me to the top of what used to be the council building. Once I packed my rucksack back up, I sprinted over to it. Just as I reached it, I heard a muffled groan. They were coming, so I started to climb the rickety ladder. As I continued up the ladder, the groaning got louder and louder.
I got to the top and jumped over the small wall perimeter. I ran over to the edge of the building that faced the town square. I quickly threw off my bag and unzipped it. I pulled out the tripod and set it on the edge of the wall. I secured my gun onto it and pulled the flare from my pocket. I aimed for the fountain and shot the flare into the town square. As it hit the fountain, red light exploded out from the small capsule. Almost immediately, zombies started to crawl out of the corners and towards the light. As soon as I saw a new zombie, I would fire a dart at them, each time slamming it into them with pinpoint accuracy. One after the other, my gruesome creations fell, screaming and moaning. Soon I started to wonder if my cure was actually working. Then, out of the blue, the first one started to change. Its skin was changing as it’s body corrected itself.
As soon as the first one started to change, another one did. Then another. And another. Soon, all the zombies in the square were morphing back to humans. I realised I had to get down there and explain what was happening to the people who had completely changed back. Leaving my tripod fixed to the wall, I rushed back to the ladder with my things and climbed down.
I raced into the square as some very groggy and naked people starred around confused. I jumped up onto the old water fountain and called for the people’s attention. They turned around to look at me, not really knowing what else to do. I hadn’t planned a speech, or anything to say, so I explained what had happened that year and then said for them to follow me so they could be safe. They all agreed without question.
I led them all into the old church. Months before I found the cure, I made the church a hospitable place for a lot of people to live so that when I did find the cure, I could bring them there and look after them. It took time, but it was worth it. Luckily, the parts I needed to patch up the holes in the roof and fix the door were easily accessible. To be honest, I don’t know how the church still stood after the wave of infection. Maybe it was because of how well it was built, with its thick wooden beams and steel gates. Or, maybe, it was just the power of God and holy intervention. Inside the church were mattresses, clothes, blankets, water and some packaged food. It was not too far from the centre, which was helpful as half of the people could not walk very well.
From there, I took care of the people and helped them regain strength and re learn everything. We started to rebuild and find more resources, as one person thankfully knew how to hotwire a car. We also gave the word to the mainland that it was now safe to come back to the island that my city had been built on. Straight away, they brought supplies and manpower. From that day on I have always said to myself… “no matter what anyone says, there is always that spark of good.”
Promoting Young Authors
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