The Awakened by Sara Elizabeth Santana Page A

are they doing? What are they waiting for?”
    Ash came from behind me, looking out as well. “I don’t know. But they’re all…congregated together. Like, they’re waiting for something.”
    The words had barely left his lips when there was a sudden movement. They all raised their heads in almost perfect unison and turned to face the east side of the street. Their eyes were wide as they watched something that neither Ash nor I could see. Frozen in place, captivated, they were insanely creepy to watch. I held my breath, waiting for something, any kind of movement.
    Then I saw our neighbor Carl, an older man in his early sixties, walking down the street. He was a nice man, if not a little weird. He had kept to himself ever since his wife had died and tended to go on long fishing trips without telling anyone, so the postman and the dry cleaners would get angry and leave all his mail and clothes at our apartment. Now he was walking in front of my house, his dog Sandy on a leash in front of him.
    “Carl,” Ash said, sounding resigned.
    “Is he insane?” I asked, incredulous. I reached for the doorknob, but Ash yanked me back.
    “Don’t be stupid, Z,” he hissed. “You’ll be torn apart…” His voice faded away as the zombies finally made their move. They moved almost as one as they came barreling toward Carl, at impossible speeds. They were so fast. Several of them dove onto the small dog, tearing it to pieces in a matter of seconds. The others went sprinting to Carl, who looked surprised. He attempted to fight them off for a moment until they overpowered him, and the sidewalk was covered in bits of flesh and dark, thick blood.
    “I can’t, I can’t,” I said, tearing my gaze away from the scene unfolding outside and the screams that were coming from Carl’s torn face. I sunk to the floor, my back pressed against the wall and my hands covering my ears. “I can’t do this. I can’t handle this.”
    Ash bent down, his elbows on his knees. “Zoey, look at me.”
    I shook my head once, twice, three times, pressing my hands tighter against my head.
    He reached down and took the gun from my hand and placed it carefully on the armoire blocking the door. His hands came up to mine, and he gently pried them off of my ears and forced my chin up so my eyes would meet his. “We’re going to be okay. I don’t know how, but we’re going to be okay.”
    “I don’t want to be okay. I want it to be the same, I want to go back,” I said, rocking back and forth, my back slamming against the wall with each rock. “I don’t feel safe.”
    He held my hands tightly in his. “I know, I know. But you are safe. You’re with me, and I swear it to you, Zoey Valentine, I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I’m here, with you.” His blue eyes were bright, and I could see the very beginning of tears in the corners.
    I yanked my hands away from him. “I don’t want to be here with you,” I spat out viciously. “I’d rather be here with anyone else but you. Leave me alone.” I sprang up, stomping up the stairs into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.
    If I had expected Ash to follow me upstairs, I was wrong. I paced back and forth in my room before reaching for my phone. There were a couple dozen missed text messages coupled with at least a dozen missed calls. I scrolled through my contacts searching for my dad, and pressed the call button when I found him. It beeped once long and loud, and “No Service” popped up. I typed out a quick text message, “Where are you?” and pressed send, but the same message came up again.
    “Great,” I muttered, tossing the phone back on the dresser, where it lay useless. I flopped onto my bed and tried to ignore the perpetual sinking feeling that was constant in my stomach. I tried to ignore the silence that was outside of my window. I expected screams, chaos, something, but it was eerily silent compared to earlier when they seemed to have descended upon the