Blog of the Dead (Book 3): Lost by Lisa Richardson

lay in Misfit’s arms last night, I thought about what he had said, about the zombie apocalypse being worth it because he’d met me. Of course, I had wondered myself whether I would have met him if it hadn’t of been for the outbreak. While I couldn’t get my head around the thought that it made it worthwhile, I did feel a warm satisfaction that Misfit considered mass death and the end of civilization as collateral damage in order to meet me. Is that wrong? 
    We all woke feeling achy and sluggish. Once limbs had been stretched and muscles eased, each of us headed to the windows on either side of the staff room to check out the route back to the car.
    ‘Still a fair few dead fuckers on this side,’ said Kay. ‘What’s it like over there?’
    ‘Not too bad,’ I said. ‘There’s around ten, maybe fifteen at most directly below, probably more at the front of the building. Looks like most of them have buggered off though, which is good.’
    ‘You’re off then?’ asked Mal.
    ‘Yeah,’ I said.
    ‘Where to?’
    ‘Surrey.’
    ‘What’s in Surrey?’ asked Mal.
    ‘My family. Only…’ I hung my head. ‘I just need to know.’
    I glanced up to see Mal nod, but thankfully – because I had begun to like the guy and I didn’t want him to spoil it – he didn’t try and give me any ‘bright side’ bullshit about my family being dead.
    Misfit emerged from the salon – I hadn’t even noticed he’d left the staff room. ‘The way back towards the car is still pretty chocker,’ he said, nodding back towards the salon. ‘We could fight our way through. But it might be better if I head out and pick us up another vehicle.’
    ‘No way, Misfit, not with so many zombies out there,’ I said.
    ‘I’ll be fine.’
    ‘I don’t feel comfortable with you out there alone,’ I said, taking a few steps closer to him.
    ‘I’m the quickest and the quietest. I don’t feel comfortable with you… with any of you lot,’ he added, tearing his eyes off me and glancing at the others, ‘out there. I won’t be long.’
    ‘I got ya back, mate,’ said Clay.
    ‘No need, Clay, mate. I’ll be better on my own.’ He turned to Mal. ‘Is there a main way in and out?’
    ‘It’s sealed off to keep the bad guys out,’ said Mal. ‘It’s in and out through the window you used yesterday.’ With that, and with Clay looking like he’d forgotten to put sugar in his tea, Misfit slipped out of the room alone and was gone.
    12pm
    I sat on one of the black leather hairdressing chairs that I’d pushed up as high as it would go so I had a good view out the window. Anyone who suggested they take over so I could rest was greeted with a bare-toothed snarl. There were still many zombies below and Misfit was out there alone.
    Through the stiff, withering bodies that staggered aimlessly below, I couldn’t see any sign of a leather-clad figure lying on the ground and I guessed Elaine had risen and staggered off on her one good leg, ready to become a tick on someone else’s quota. Misfit had been gone for about twenty minutes already. I wondered if this was anything near what my mum and dad must have felt when I stayed out late with my friends for the first time – staying up just to make sure I got home safely, unable to sleep until they knew I had.
    I’d been sixteen the first time, and a group of us went to an open mic night at The Mezz Bar at The Leatherhead Theatre. Dad had driven me and three friends there, no doubt resisting the urge to say, ‘Are you going out dressed like that?’ at the sight of my short skirt and heels. I hadn’t given my parents a thought at the time, while I was out enjoying myself. But now I could imagine Mum and Dad spending the evening pacing up and down the living room, biting their nails or rooted at the window, imagining me drugged, abducted and raped by one of the many bad men that where laying in wait for a young, innocent girl like me. Their breath held, their hearts aching, their stomachs