It was a dark morning. Thick clouds sagged low in the sky, and it rumbled by the second. An imminent storm approaches.
But before the intense orchestra, the rain starts slowly and steadily. It was a mellow introduction.
Not far from a dirt road in the woods, there is a flimsy structure built with fragile wood. It is a shack.
The shack was small, and signs of its having once been a small stronghold were evident. However, for now, it serves as a refuge for the two temporary occupants, who are currently taking a break from their trek.
Inside, a man with a massive frame walks to the window side. The floor creaked with every step he made.
"Storm's coming."
The man whispers, peeking through the curtain. The window is meekly barricaded from the outside.
"What's that?"
A soft, feminine voice replied. She approaches him with two hot cups of water.
"You don't know what a storm is?"
The man turns to the woman behind him, smirking.
"Dummy. I didn't hear you."
The woman hands him his cup.
"Ooh, hot water, my favorite!"
The man excitedly said, sipping from the cup.
"Stop, please."
The woman rolls her eyes and turns her back on him, walking towards a couch.
"What?"
The man chuckles, following her.
"Just… Just be serious, come on. Aren't you in the mood to take it slow?"
The woman sits on the couch, her legs crossed. The furniture was dusty and old.
"I am not in the mood to take it slow. I can be like my dad if that's what you want?"
The man closed in, standing in front of her, still holding the cup of hot water.
"Frank. Stop. Why are you being so… Upbeat?"
The woman shakes her head, smiling.
"Well, why can't I? A new life in a new city? What's not to like! Besides…"
The man, Frank, knelt and put his hand on the woman's rounded belly. She carried two heartbeats.
"Aren't you excited for the future?"
Frank continued.
"I am, Frank. But can we reach the city first before we get uppity?"
The woman playfully caresses Frank's hair.
"Alright, alright. Ballbuster. I'll make sure we get there, and maybe you can reward me after that?"
Smirking, Frank moves his hand down the woman's trousers.
"Drink your water and I'll consider it."
The woman removes his hand and turns her back on him.
"Ha! Fine, I'll read my classics then. When the rain stops, we head out."
Frank rolls his eyes and takes a sip of the cup as he stands.
"We ran out of coffee?"
Frank asked. The rain intensifies, and the choir now begins to play the chorus.
"We do. Hot water to warm us up. I'm just saving the coffee, so when we arrive–"
Suddenly, Frank covers her mouth with his palm.
"Shh."
With his index finger raised near his mouth, he shushes the woman. He looks agitated.
At the window, through the poorly made barricade, an eye shimmers as it peeks inside.
As if they had stopped breathing, the couple made no sound. They both watched the creeping eye move through the gaps, trying to see what was inside the dark interiors.
KRA-KOOM
Then the glowing eye moves on, seemingly distracted by Mother Nature.
Their bags were placed in the corner near the door. On the straps of his bag, there is a makeshift spear made of a thick metal rod he looted.
He slowly stepped toward the weapon.
"Frank, no!"
She whispers anxiously. It was loud enough.
The floor creaked.
When Frank is close enough to grab the weapon, the eye shows up again. This time, it is staring intensely at him.
Frank could hear it. It was a lone Zeno. Must've strayed away from its horde. He feared the worst: a Berzerk Zeno—a Zerk.
The Zeno stayed still. It was wheezing. Its lips were pursed. Frank hasn't gotten this close to a Zeno before. Its skin was pale and rosy, it stenched with rot, and its flesh appeared to be in an eternal state of mid-decomposition.
But its eye was intense. It had only one, and it was wide and unblinking. It has no rims, just stark white around a big, swollen black iris.
They are in a dreadful standoff. A feeling that will be familiar to Frank in the future. Only he's more human.
There was a rule for the common survivors of the apocalypse. In the wild, when a Zeno doesn't see you, there is a ten-second delay before the window of escape presents itself.
Frank thought he should've counted to ten before he moved his ass. But there is no time to regret.
The storm arrives. The musical rain is at its peak.
The Zeno allows itself to trespass, crashing through the window. Its loud growls and screeches were overwhelmed by the strong wind and crashing drops of rain.
For Frank, it seemed silent. He let the cup slip from his hand. It hit the floor and rolled away.
With stressful haste, Frank grabbed the metal spear and pierced it into the Zeno's mouth.
But it didn't die, missing its brain by inches.
Snarling and jaws wide open, the Zeno shoves its penetrated head, sliding down the shaft to sink its teeth on Frank's hand.
But because the rod was thick enough, there was no space for a clean bite. It only felt like a small animal nibbled on his hand. Still, blood shows, and he panics.
"Die!"
With his other fist, he repeatedly bashes the Zeno's skull. Pounding until it caves in and he reaches the gooey brain before grabbing a handful, squishing it, and pulling it all out.
The Zeno instantly died. Thunder struck, lightning nears.
Out of breath, Frank throws the corpse to the side. Inhaling and exhaling heavily, he sweats a lot.
"F-Frank!"
The woman said, concerned. She points at his hand.
Frank checks himself, and the hand appears to be rotting slowly. Veins squirming and moving disgustingly around the bite. He is turning.
He looks at his woman, then at his infected hand. Thinking quickly, he digs through their bag, searching for something. A butter knife. It is blunt enough to be harmless, but it will do.
He took one last glance at the woman before stabbing his wrist and proceeding to slice it off. He screams in agonizing pain.
Not making herself useless, the woman removes some straps from the bag and makes a tourniquet, wrapping it around Frank's forearm.
"We're only a mile away from the city."
Frank said, now cleaving his bone, but the butter knife renders him incapable of doing so.
"W-What?"
The woman turns to him, dumbfounded.
"You have to go."
"No!"
"You have to go!"
"Frank, no–"
Before the woman could finish her word, Frank threw himself at her and leaned in for the kiss. It was passionate, and they savoured every second.
Then, Frank stood up, his flesh dangling while he also bled. With his other hand, he grabs her by the arm.
"Let's go!"
He said, wincing.
"B-but your hand!"
The woman said, but Frank didn't respond, already pulling her toward the door.
They ran into the thick of the storm, hurrying toward the city they'd dreamed of reaching. They left all their belongings in the shack. Frank knew he might not make it, but he hoped he could at least bring her to safety.
It was gruelling. The mud made their sprint difficult. But they kept running. Especially him, blood drips down like an open faucet. He could feel himself losing it, but he kept on running.
That damn music.
He thought to himself. All this time, he could hear it. The orchestra is at its melancholic end.
Not far, a few feet away, they saw the gate. The city walls stand high. They see a glimmer of hope.
"T-There it is, Frank!"
The woman said, smiling.
Frank tried to reply, but when he opened his mouth, blood spurted out. So, he kept quiet and continued running. Her hand was still firmly holding on to her.
Rain hid his disappointment. He knew he was running out of time. He knew it was his time. Tears started running down his cheek, snot flowing down his nose.
"Aren't you excited, my love?"
He said, blood was wet in his mouth.
But the woman didn't quite hear him say it. She examines him, and the squirming veins are at his neck now. She begins to tear up.
"W-What's that?"
Smiling, she asked him to repeat what he said.
"I s-s-s-s-said… A-a-a-aren't you excited, you bitch!?"
He glances behind. His face appears gentle, but his voice is loud and sounds sad. But he seems to be unaware of what he said.
"I-I am!"
She said, bawling at this point. She knows.
Frank recalls one of his favorite books, but he forgot how it ended. It annoyed him. It wasn't the perfect time to recall forgotten stories. It made him sad because he could also hear the music fading away.
The rain is hitting the last notes.
In the end, he filled his mind with her. It was her that he could think about.
They reached the unguarded city walls, screaming for help, but no one came to open the gate.
In desperation, Frank mustered his last senses and hurled his body against the massive iron gate. To his shock, they were already unlocked.
The twenty-foot gate creaked open under his weight, and he fell forward, hand slipping from hers as he hit the ground.
To both of their shock, all hope shattered instantly as they were welcomed by a thousand hungry Zenos standing idly in the rain. The city was overrun.
Hope is no more. The Zenos heard them enter, looking at them with such horrific delight.
And that is all Frank could remember, for the music in his head ended.