Fatal Flaw

“Gray? I’m coming for you!” Grace shut her eyes as her brother’s voice entered her mind again. It happened once a day. “We’ll find each other again, I promise! Please try your best to stay alive, and go to the family house! I'll meet you there. I love you.”

It’s almost been a year since the apocalypse started… nine months later, and she did not lose hope. Nine months, and she never stopped trying to find her way back to him. It’s been nine months since she heard her brother’s voice. Grace knew that Louis was alive, she felt it. They weren’t twins, but they were close enough to be. She just needed to find her way to their family vacation house.

A longing sigh escaped Grace as she opened her eyes. It was crazy how much she missed her brother. Sometimes she swore that she forgot what he sounded like, but then his voice would enter her mind and she’d remember. Anger flared inside her as she thought of the different zombie hordes they had to move around a few times. Grace was sure that if it wasn’t for the detours forced upon them, she would already be fighting alongside her brother.

To mollify herself, Grace bent down to pick up a decent sized rock to sharpen her tomahawk. She blew out a laugh, remembering how she found the weapon. Someone had left it lodged in a corpse’s head and didn't even bother to reclaim it. She shook her head, idiot.

Michael tried to trade his crowbar for it, but she didn’t take it, simply because he already had a shotgun and a rifle—which were both back at their camp. Their camp wasn’t far from the shops so there was no need to carry high power or extra weight. They’ve been at the same town for a few days to rest, and so far they haven’t run into any walking dead. The talk of ammunition was a short one; it would be a rare occasion to come across any. So they stuck with their melee weapons, which weren’t a problem, other than the fact that it was close and personal when killing a zombie.

He was the reason why Grace wasn’t a walking corpse herself. She would’ve gone completely mental if it wasn’t for the only friend she made at university. The first time she saw Michael, something drew her to him, she wasn’t sure what it was but she stuck with her gut. After a couple of days sharing the same class, she took notice that her other classmates kept their distance from him. It confused her, why did they do that? Was it because he was quiet? But that was their mistake, because she wouldn’t be breathing if it wasn’t for Michael.

He was a quiet type of guy, and she was happy to be one of few to see a different side to him. When they started talking, she found out that he grew up a little out of the city and spent his early days hunting, and helping out his grandparents at their farm. He was a lot like her in the way he grew to love video games and went to university for it. There were moments when she wished she didn’t choose to attend hours away from home, because she’d be with her family, but then she realized that she wouldn’t have had Michael beside her.

A slight distant curse came from the shop behind her. Grace arched an eyebrow, what was Michael doing? She tossed the rock away, she didn’t like taking orders, nor did she like to wait. There were only two people that Grace willingly followed, and one of them was Michael, who told her to stay put while he went to look inside a grocery shop. She also didn’t like to stand guard; she had come to learn that she liked to be in the action.

Grace glanced out to the street, and sighed, it was a ghost town. Not even a single wanderer much to her disappointment. She was just starting to get better at throwing her tomahawk, she could use some practice. She wasn’t as good as Michael—who was teaching her—but she was getting there.

Looking up at the light sky, she wondered what Louis was doing right at this moment. At night, during her watch, she would look at the stars, which she was able to see now that streetlamps weren’t dominating. She’d end up whispering to the moon, like she was sending a message to her brother.

Louis was the only other living person she wanted to talk to. In the past few months, she and Michael had spotted only three groups, only two of them they approached. They usually kept their distance, having no desire for social interactions. It was a world with no authority; they couldn’t risk trusting other people. Though, that didn’t stop them from sneaking into one of the camps to scavenge through their supplies while the female on guard had gone to relieve herself.

It was a one-time thing. Never again would they steal from the living. It was exhilarating, but they had gotten so close to being caught that they promised to one another that they wouldn’t do it again. It wasn’t fair, the group had more members than the duo, and they lacked in supplies.

A familiar tingling in her stomach made Grace come back to her senses and she sucked in a breath. Michael… She left her position just to the side of the glass doors, and ran into the shop.

We’ll never hesitate to help one another. It’s just you and me, together we’ll survive. And remember, they are not people.

Grunts and growls were what welcomed Grace into the building. With her melee weapon in hand, she tightened the red bandana over her mouth and nose for protection from the odor of old rotten meat and blood. She dodged around contents that were on the floor as she ran to the aisle where the rough sounds echoed out.

When she turned the corner, she came to see Michael and two corpses, the former on the ground. His boot pushed a corpse against a shelf, while the other was on top of him, his arm holding it back by the neck.

Grace smirked, taking out her tomahawk. “Got your hands full, huh?”

“Damn it, Gray.” Michael grunted under his black bandana, struggling with the extra weight. “Don’t be an ass. Help me!”

Shit, if he gets bit... Grace shook herself from her thoughts and swiftly moved and pierced the standing corpse’s head with her tomahawk. She cringed as black blood splattered and pushed the now dead body away. Despite the growing number of zombies she killed, the blood splatters were one thing she couldn’t get used to. Turning around, she bent and grabbed hold of the used-to-be blue shirt, now tattered and brown, and yanked the other corpse off of Michael. He grabbed the crowbar by his feet before jumping up to kill the corpse.

“We really need to find you a knife of some sort… something that isn’t as long.” Grace said, staring down at his crowbar and then to her tomahawk. Maybe I should have traded with him? It wasn’t the only melee weapon she had.

“Did it bite you?”

Michael exhaled, pulling down his bandana. He stepped back to slide down the hard edges of the shelves until he was sitting, his back against the metal. He shook his head, and lifted his leather covered arm in reply; it was slimy, and bloody. The image of the corpse’s teeth trying to bite through the tough fabric scared Grace.

We’ll never hesitate to help one another. Grace cursed, “Look Mikey, I—” She paused, breathing through her nose she plopped down beside her friend. “I’m sorry about what happened just a minute ago, it’s just-”

“I know.”

Grace turned her head to look at Michael, who was staring at the two dead bodies that lay a foot away. A small smile that didn’t reach his eyes, formed on his handsome scruffy face. “It’s easy to forget that this is real.”

She didn’t reply, instead she leaned her head against his shoulder. They sat there silently, only moving when Michael put his arm around her. Moments like these didn’t happen often, because it brought them back to reality, a place that could end them. So when Michael spoke, it wasn’t a surprise.

“But you know, I couldn’t just lie around and let you steal my kills.”

“Steal?” Grace gasped, narrowing her eyes at the blond. “You wouldn’t have gotten them anyway, also… I gave that point to you.”

Michael laughed. “Whatever, I’m still the champion, babe.”

“I’m going to smack you,” Grace threatened, shaking her head and elbowed him. Michael was who taught her all she knew about weapons, how to clean, and how to use them.

The first time she witnessed Michael’s skills with a gun was at a paintball range he dragged her to. He was dead accurate, and extremely competitive. It was funny, and frightening at the same time. She was just glad that the opponents were their age, and not younger. He had continued to bring her paintballing and she soon got a hang of it, and that was when their scoreboard started. Whoever got a better grade earned a point, whoever cursed last earned a point, whoever fell asleep last earned a point; it was silly… but that was them.

When the world had gone to shit, all joking had ceased; it wasn’t a funny situation. Walking dead was supposed to stay fictional. It wasn’t supposed to happen. The first time she killed a corpse, she had shut down. She just killed someone. No, she wouldn’t be able to survive if she thought that way. The only way for Michael to bring her back was the scoreboard.

And when they hit the third month of the apocalypse, she and Michael had come to see the world as a video game. Only in this first person shooter, there was neither a respond pad nor a restart button. But as she continued to see it as a game, Grace found it easier for her to survive, and easier to kill.

“Wait… what happened?” Grace asked in confusion, tilting her head. “I know you well enough that you wouldn’t have given them the chance to take you down like that.”

He scrambled to his feet, smacking her head in the process. “Michael! What the hell!” She glared up at him, rubbing the back of her head.

He uttered a quick apology, before reaching behind a couple of light bulbs and spices. “I found someone’s stash.”

Grace grumbled, getting to her feet, “Of what?”

“Now, I know how much you love your chocolate.”


I’m such an idiot, Grace shook her head when her eyes started tearing up at the sight of the red plastic covered rectangle. To her, a Kit-Kat bar is the second best thing to come by, the first being her brother. She had yet to open the small package, wanting to savor the moment. When Michael presented what the ‘stash’ had consisted of, she offered first watch in gratitude. There were four bottled waters, two Kit-Kat’s, two bars of soap, and four cans of soup.

When they got back to their ‘home’, they immediately started a small fire before sundown to boil water they collected from the rain two nights ago, just to wash up once it cooled. After they felt less grimy, Grace immediately started on the soup, only after handing it over to Michael to open with her knife. They shared a can and one bottle, just one to share between them both…but they still felt like royalty.

Luckily, they were able to stay in one place for more than three nights. Where they took refuge was in a treehouse, it was the safest place they had ever been in since the apocalypse started. They still needed to get to the family house, but they couldn't pass up the chance to relax and feel safer. The treehouse was big enough that three people could sleep in, and it was high off the ground. Their ladder was boards nailed to the tree. It was in a fairly good condition when they came upon the fort. The only thing they fixed was the roof by adding a green tarp.

A snap of a twig pierced the peaceful atmosphere that Michael created when he fell asleep. Grace held her breath as sounds of movement came from below the boards of the treehouse. Nothing, and then another sharp snap of a twig. As softly and soundlessly as she could she went to peek down from the entrance hole. Right beside the tree, a female corpse was sluggishly moving about.

This was the first zombie that ever came upon to their camp; she didn’t know what to do. Grace gritted her teeth as her mind whirled with ideas on what to do. She couldn’t go down the ladder to kill it, it was too close. A silencer is what Michael kept saying that they needed for their guns, but it was a hopeless case, so she wasn’t able to shoot it.

She prayed that she wouldn’t miss when she’d toss her hawk. When the familiar handle left her hand, she winced as it flew past the target and into the ground.

“Fuck.”

The corpse groaned, as if a dinner bell rang throughout the woods. Grace glared down at the walking dead, oh how she hated those things. She breathed in getting enough nerve to leave the fort, and when she did, she moved with ease. She grabbed her finger-less gloves, and grabbed her hunting knife before she climbed down a couple of pegs. Jumping to the left, she just missed the dirty, bloody, greedy hands.

Grace stumbled back, a determined frown on her face as it growled, and came at her. She was glad that the sky wasn’t completely dark, so the walking corpse was visible. With observant eyes, Grace winced; the corpse had a gruesome wound on the neck which was no doubt the end of the female. She and Michael both wore bandanas around their mouth and nose, so they were safe from infected blood and the smell of old meat. She gagged at the smell of rotting flesh; she had forgotten hers in the fort.

She coughed and scrunched her nose in distaste, hoping it would stop the burning. She made a noise of disgust at the thought of using her knife to kill the corpse. Grace hated using her knife as a weapon, and she especially didn’t want to use it after opening a can of soup with it. So shoving the knife into a rotting brain was not her ideal of fun.

With a grunt, Grace pushed the corpse away from her. It’s back hit the tree, growling. Grace growled back when the realization that she’ll get sprayed with blood came. She just cleaned herself a couple of hours ago!

“Gray!” She didn’t take the chance to look up at Michael; instead she stabbed her knife in the head of the zombie with enough force to kill it. When she yanked the knife back out, she curled her lip in disgust; black blood covered the blade.

“Well…” She coughed, wiping the blood off with the bottom of her jeans. She rubbed her nose in hopes of getting rid of the stench. “That’s a point for Gray Tomlinson!”

Her lips twitched at Michael, before she went to pick up her tomahawk. Her grin disappeared when two more corpses appeared in her view, a few feet in front of her. “Michael, I think we’re gonna have to leave soon.”

He climbed down the ladder to help take them out. "I think you're right."