I Awoke | Chapter 1.2 — Reality

I Awoke | Chapter 1.2 — Reality

I Awoke

by Benjamin Arandjelovic-Vaughan

This idea began as a short story but has now become a through composed novel. Chapters will be released periodically and is still being written. You can read this yourself or have TripleS read this to you in the YouTube video below. Feedback is always appreciated and enjoy the tale.


Chapter 1 – The Silent Night

1.2 – Reality

Many questions proceeded through my head, bio weapon? Nuke? Sleep induced coma? Airborne disease? Have I just somehow managed to live through a fucking apocalypse and am the last one left. The Adam and Eve scenario intrigued me, what if he was the only male. I then proceeded to tell myself not to keep thinking with my dick and wondered was this worldwide? It was nationwide, but is it world? When will they come back as zombies or will this be like an epic anime where I am the only one who can find the cure and save everyone. I mean, I didn’t pay much attention to the dead bodies, but they all seemed to be less in a ‘dead’ state and more just frozen in time; of course except for the unlucky ones that were doing something dangerous at the time. Their eyes were facing forward and the guy at the bus stop still seemed warm. But when did this happen? What day, I haven’t been out of the house in like forever. Then it dawned on me.

This morning, my De-ja-vu. That strange dream. Ever since then I really haven’t been able to hear much or notice any strange happenings and I worked without any distraction. What does that mean? Are they dead? Are they alive?

I pondered for a couple of minutes and looked for answers where there were none. In this cupboard, at least I won’t be discovered overnight and the torch on my phone allowed me to familiarise myself with the rules of a zombie apocalypse.

Rule 3. – Find good shelter, think about permanent places. Possibly a public place where survivors can gather and use as a base.

Rule 5. – First priority is food and water, don't take more than you can carry but it is essential to stock up.

Rule 89 – If the zombies exhibit signs towards a specific disease then a potential cure may be found. Use extreme caution in apprehending a subject but remember, they are dead, they no longer feel pain, you are the dominant species you must survive.

‘I must survive’, ‘I am the dominant’ went through my head over and over. Why I was so attracted to this rule confused me. And maybe it was my curiosity but I needed to find out more about these potential zombies and what caused this.

“It couldn't be airborne, and a nuke would have destroyed the place. Maybe sleep induced coma?...but when does the zombifing come into play. I have no real consequences worse than actually being killed and if I can get over that, maybe this wont be such a bad thing after all.” I thought maliciously.

I mean, these people were comatosed, they didn’t seem to be doing anything at the moment and even if they are not dead, they will not feel pain in this state, I could make it look like an accident.

FUCK. Get a hold of yourself.

I was starting to really get freaked out by the dark thoughts that seeped from my mind. If I was one of the only ones left, I would be king! I cannot abuse that power; I need to help these people.

I was rather conflicted but after what seemed like hours in the cupboard, I intended to find out further what was going on. However scared, I must be brave for the good of humanity and after I’ve figured it out, I will then quickly set my survival plan in motion.

First things first were the steps I had to take to leave the cupboard. The cupboard = safety, and I had to go back into the world where I was filled with hysterical outbursts. Phone torch at the ready, I proceeded. I turned on a couple of lights.

Rule 8 – if the power is out then find an alternate source of light; if not, you wont have it for long but consider it a stroke of luck. Especially at night.

The home was inviting and reminded me of nostalgic family memories, I took a moment to let them flood into me as positive reinforcement before I went any further. I crept into the living room and kitchen but eventually found what seemed to be a husband and wife at the dining room table, heads firmly planted in the now cold sausages and mash. I plucked up the courage to touch them gingerly. I snapped back but they were warm, alive almost. I took the man’s head out from his spuds and shone the torch into his eyes like they do on CSI. No reaction, I checked the pulse and after a few attempts of thinking I was doing something wrong there seemed to be nothing there at all. It was like their bodies were frozen in time as I suspected, even their hearts were not beating. I checked by placing my head on the female’s chest, just to check for a seeming movement of any internal organs, no breath either. After a quick grope of her breasts, I laid her down next to her husband out of respect.

Turning off the static currently airing on the TV I enabled the deathly atmosphere to almost dissipate entirely. I breathed a somewhat sigh of relief to the fact that I now knew that there would be no ghosts or ghouls attacking me through the TV set. Bizarre thoughts such as this protruded my field of sanity occasionally but at this moment in time I was willing to believe anything. A quick look outside added no information to my investigation as there seemed to still be nobody on the streets or no zombies dragging themselves towards me.

“Right, here we go.” Was said under the breath not to awake the dead; the survival plan was underway.
Making my way into the kitchen and turning off the oven,
“Forgot to turn it off, ha!”
then into the fridge revealed a plethora of bottled water,
“posh bastards,”
and four neatly prepared packs of sandwiches, presumably for the next day. Wait, four? Why was there four?
Then it struck me…children. During the last few hours I had come to almost accept adults as potential zombies but, children? Even though my mind wasn’t prepared for this it was imperative I check the rest of the house for supplies before moving on. I needed a rucksack of sorts, maybe some toilet roll (as I have some decency!), something to be used as a weapon and a notebook and pen. Why a notebook and pen I hear you ask? Well, should this all blow over I need to make notes of my heroic acts to tell to future generations in a best seller that will top the charts and make me rich well not all for the money but for the children and it will you know be heroic and future book amazon the charts.
I hit myself to break out of my indulgent fantasy and concentrated at the task at hand. Grabbing a kitchen knife I moved to the bottom of the stairs and began my accent to my potential death.
*squeak go the floorboards *
“Shhh!” I speak
“Sorry” it seems to reply.
I continue and as I reach the stairs I hear something faint that terrifies me to the point of a shiver overtaking my cautious movemnets. The almost inaudible cry of a death metal singer accompanied by much sound design and emo-day memories. Someone is there.

Re-taking my limbs I gripped my knife as I moved towards the sound. It was behind that door, that one door on the left; a light pierces the underside of the door that doesn't quite join with the carpet.
“In there”
Moving with minimal squeaks was difficult inside such an old house, my fear of spiders did not really help with the matter either. A few minutes contemplating opening the door passed as I almost became too engrossed in the chugging guitars to care. Pushing the door slowly I peeked around the crack with such focus that my eyeballs almost extended from their sockets. I was inside the room; I was instantly saddened.
There before me, head on her hands with her headphones plugged into her desktop computer laid a teenager. A YouTube playlist flashed up on the screen now stuck in a never ending metal compilation, seemingly had sent her to sleep. Just behind the bed, in a pile of her sisters teddy bears lay another girl, no older than 5 who clutched onto the large bears hand where she had come to her rest. The sight of this was one he neither was prepared for or something he never had imagined he would have ever seen. With tears welling up in his eyes he quickly checked the teen’s temperature, pupil dilation, pulse and breath; all were the same as their parents.
Gutted was an insufficient word, hurt didn’t portray what I was feeling; if there was no ‘cure’ for whatever this is they may not be coming back. Somewhere in the back of my mind I should have expected this but after looking at their small lifeless bodies I just became overwhelmed with anger. I bit my finger to not cry out just in case I was still in immediate danger and left the room for a few moments to compose myself. Taking my mind away from the situation I foraged through the other rooms and found an old cricket bat, an army standard rucksack and a blank hello kitty notepad that once again brought a lump to my throat.
Trying to move back downstairs my body seized up and stuck me on the landing.
“I can’t just leave them like that.” Were the words that flowed over my breath.
Returning to the bedroom, out of respect I took both sisters and laid them in bed with a teddy each; tucking them in and saying a last goodnight was the best I could do for them.
“Sleep tight.” I just managed to conjure up over the obvious pain and grief. Noticing a night light I turned it on and left them peacefully.
Moving to the kitchen I filled the rucksack with supplies and tied my messy hair back with the mothers scarf that hung up in the hall. I passed the cupboard and began to contemplate the dark thoughts surrounding locking myself in there for eternity. Though I could not bring myself to suicide, after these series of events my hand thought otherwise and already held that large kitchen knife to my wrist. After a flash of utter depravity my body fell to the ground and a rush of sorrow flooded my eyes as I began to wail. The knife that was to release me from my burden now was strewn across the floor and each painful image from the last few hours paraded itself front of my minds eye. I mourned for what seemed like hours until there was nothing left to lament.

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