Fatal Flaw

“I can’t be fucked with these detours!” Grace hacked at the tree nearest her with her hawk, each hit getting harder. “I have to find my brother!”

Michael shushed her. She froze and swung around ready to have a go at him, but stopped when his eyes hardened at her. His eyes then widened when a groan pierced the air, “Quick, over to that house!”

Normally they would have run towards the corpse’s to take them out, but they were recently forced from their small piece of heaven by a horde they managed to ditch two days ago. The escape happened for four nights straight, they were frustrated and tired. They couldn’t take their chances with this group, not until they were able to see if this was a horde or not from afar.

They ran around the dirty blue house, to find a road that they guessed lead to the shops. Grace looked around the corner they came from to see how far the corpses were, they haven't reached the house yet, but the groans overpowered their heavy breathing. From the corner of her eye Grace saw Michael turn to face the house.

“We need to get on a roof.”

She assessed the house, and found that there was no way for them to get on it. She cursed, and twirled in her spot looking for another option. Closer to the road, beside a few trees was an old white shed. In a hurry, Grace tugged on Michael’s leather covered sleeve and ran to the shed.

They dropped their bags on the ground and climbed to the roof of the shed, Grace struggling in the process. When Michael was safely on top, he easily helped her to get beside him. She huffed and leaned back against the boards, catching her breath.

Grace tried to shake herself aware when she heard Michael’s laugh. He better not be laughing at me, she frowned. But when she turned to him, he wasn’t facing her. He was facing the house, where three corpses appeared.

It hadn’t been a horde. “Are you bloody kidding me?” She cursed. Grace was ready to sleep, so she was upset knowing that they had ran the whole day from three dead fucks. And she didn’t care when Michael rushed to kill them. But wait– she smirked. Oh… she cared a little.

Although she was drained of energy and she knew that her aim would be off, she tossed her tomahawk at one. She would not let Michael rack up on the points. Grace cheered when her weapon embed itself in the corpse’s head. Michael groaned playfully when he saw her tomahawk, she grinned in return.

The sun was setting, and Michael guessed aloud that it would take fifteen more minutes before it was dark. Before he went to climb the shed he grabbed the hawk from the skull of the corpse and wiped off the black blood with its use-to-be red jumper. When he was seated safely on the boards of the shed, he saw that there were no more threats.

Now able to relax, Michael lifted his arm for Grace to situate herself beside him. “Come, sleep.”

The top of the shed was slanted, so she’d have to sleep sitting up. When she got under his arm, he laid it over her shoulders and pulled her closer. As she moved to get comfortable, he explained that they’ll look through the shops in the morning. She yawned nodding before she fell into slumber.



Grace kicked the contents lying on the floor of the second shop they entered. Her mind was on her brother, and she was getting fed up. “Michael, it’s been a year, if not—then it's close… and still no luck! There were a lot of people in the world, what if we never get to the house? I don’t even remember the way, what if we’re going in a completely different direction?”

They needed to find a map, and they couldn’t even find that!

“Grace,” Michael said, grabbing hold of her head to sternly look into her eyes. “We will find your brother. I promise that you will see him again before we die.”

She let out a harsh sigh, pressing her lips together tightly. She didn’t like the feeling that was building inside of her. The last time she felt this way was when she tried calling Louis again after they hung up, and ended up getting a never-ending dial tone—that was when she knew that all phone lines had died.

Grace couldn’t look at Michael as guilt consumed her. She pulled her red bandana down from where it sat on her nose, she needed to breathe. She didn’t care that the air wasn’t fresh anymore, she needed to breathe. He had left his family to help her look for hers, and they weren’t even close to finding her brother. He could have spent his last days with his grandparents, but instead he was out in the world running from the dead.

Nine months, and nothing… Louis could be anywhere. Anywhere but near them.

“No…We’re not going to find him, Michael.” Grace said, her blue eyes desperately meeting his brown ones. She ignored the way his started to grow darker with frustration. “You should have just stayed with your grandparents. This whole thing is starting to be a waste of time. We’re lost! We don’t know where to look anymore, these groups are signs-”

“Grace!” She didn’t realize she started to cry until she felt his thumbs wiping away her falling tears. She grabbed onto his hands, sniffling as she steadied herself. She felt weak, she blamed the running, and hunger. They brought back the emotions that she tried so hard to keep locked up.

The hold he had on her tightened, the distress in his eyes told her that he didn’t like to see her this way. He leaned to kiss her forehead, and when their eyes met again she saw determination.

“I want you to understand something, Gray—I don’t regret leaving my grandparents, alright?” When she didn’t say anything he continued, “They are old, they wouldn’t have lasted that long. Not as long as you and me. I love them… but this was my choice.”

After a few seconds of looking into his eyes, she nodded with a soft ‘ok.’ He smiled at her, rubbing his thumbs against her cheekbones soothingly.

“It’s just you and me, together we’ll survive.” Grace mouthed the words along with Michael’s rumble. His forehead rested on hers in silence.

A car engine broke the rare moment between the pair. Their bodies tensed up for a minute before they moved away from one another. Their minds were back in the game.

Blue and brown eyes connected in wonder. Grace clicked her tongue, they haven’t heard a moving vehicle for a while… and the last time they did it held a group of survivors. A group of living people was always a problem; you never know how they handled the world without authority.

Michael’s movement brought air to her still form, alerting Grace of her tear-stained face. A flicker of despair made her release a small frustrated noise as she wiped her face. Keeping her leather covered hands pressed to her eyes she told herself that it was not the time, come on Gray! A couple of seconds later she was following behind Michael, and into a defence mode.

They dropped their bags and quickly hid them, taking only the smaller weapons, leaving behind a rifle, tomahawk and shotgun. They moved into a position as they waited for the doors to open, to hear voices and controlled footsteps.

In the last minute they had Michael gestured for Grace to hide behind shopping trolleys across the aisle from him. Grace slid across the floor and into position, when she faced Michael she pumped a fist in the air at her move. He rolled his eyes, and gave a fake smile and sarcastic thumbs up. She scrunched her nose at him, before forcing herself to focus. She pulled out one of her Beretta’s, and her knife, her thumb at the safety of the gun as she waited. The pistols still had a full clip since she and Michael tried to stick with melee weapons for the dead.

If they hadn’t made an agreement to never check the back rooms or alley when they scavenge buildings, they would’ve left (there wasn’t anything they needed in the store anyway). They watched movies, and of course they’ve played the games. She and Michael made sure to only enter the main floor, with a simple plan in mind. Get in, check what’s left, and back out. And for this building—and many others—their only exit was the front and it was being entered by two pairs of shoes.

Then finally, an Irish accent spoke, “I’ll check the left side, you go right. Be quick.”

The voices came from Grace’s left; the Irishman was planning to go the same way. Grace’s heart started pumping in excitement; they have yet to confront other survivors. They’ve only snuck around them at night, and kept their distance. But these ones were the intruders, because she and Michael were there first. If the guns had to be shot, then so be it.

“Aye, aye Captain,” a smooth deep voice mocked in return. Grace heard a small abrupt rustle of clothes, and imaged an unknown male salute. That or the Irishman moved quietly to grab the other in anger. She didn’t try to sneak a peek, and she didn’t move from her crouched position. Her eyes stayed on Michael’s; he was her anchor to the game.

Apparently the Irishman didn’t show aggressiveness towards the other male, because the latter was moving closer. Grace knew for a fact that the first two aisles were useless, the first was blocked and the other had a few things lying but nothing important. That didn’t stop the bloke from going down the aisle, humming to himself as he picked and threw stuff around by the sounds of it.

Grace shook her head at his carelessness. The man took his sweet time that the Irishman had already reached him. She watched as Michael started searching the ground and when he found something shiny, probably a coin, he crouched. The Irishman was reprimanding the careless man for taking so long that it gave Michael time to throw the coin over the aisle and into another. The sound alerted the male duo and they cautiously walked past Michael to get rid of whatever made the sound. And that was the chance they took to act.

Michael yanked the baseball bat out of the blonde’s hand, threw it down and kicked the back of his knee, making him drop. At the same time, Grace wrapped her arm around the tall curly haired male’s neck, and pushed her knife into his back as a warning. She ignored when he whined out the words, “not again!” She manipulated him so he turned and saw Michael subdue the blond who had whipped out a handgun.

The blond spat out blood, and onto the floor.

“You shouldn’t ‘ave done that.” An Irish accent growled.

Michael mocked gasped and took a step back, his once free hand now holding onto the Irishman’s gun, waving it in the air as it winked at its owner. You don’t know how people would act in a world without authority. “Why? Is there camera’s? Am I gonna get arrested? Gray?” He questioned breathlessly tilting his head and grinned at Grace.

Grace laughed, and couldn’t help but observe her companion; his eyes were bright and wild. His chest was heaving, but that was natural from the tussle he went through. His bandana now hanging around his neck, his grin was genuine. He had fun. They didn’t want any trouble other than the walking dead, but playing as the antagonists in the game was entertaining.

“Do humans count?” She asked, sending a playful smile to Michael, making him laugh. Of course she’d mention the scoreboard.

Michael thought about it, shook his head and said, “They’re not dead.”

The curly haired man fidgeted, but froze when she pushed the knife a little on instinct. They were gonna let them sweat a little longer, if it wasn’t for the words that came out of his mouth.

“We have a 4 year old! He’s waiting for us in the car, he needs us!”

The blond snapped his head to look at his partner, in confusion or fury, either way Grace didn’t care. She thought they were dumb. Who leaves a kid alone in a vehicle while they both risk their lives? If anything one of them should’ve stayed behind with the kid, but that didn’t matter.

“The kid will be your downfall.” Michael stated. Grace nodded in agreement. Kids have tantrums, kids get scared. Kids are loud. Her mind flicked off and on, old people are slow and weak, and they also need to be taken care of. But it was Michael’s decision to leave his grandparents. Grace blew out a breath, tightening her grip around the male neck collecting herself.

A disembodied voice made them all freeze. Online gaming, it would’ve tricked troll gamers into thinking it was a young boy, but it wasn’t. It was a female. “Guys, there’s a horde of biters coming! Hurry your arses!”

Fuck. Michael and Grace looked at each other for a second; the dead group they were running from had caught up. It took a minute for them to let go of their captives, grab their hidden belongings, and run out of the store. They ignored the sharp gaze of the female standing with one foot out the car, and instead focused onto the group behind her.

“I really hate this part,” Grace grumbled, stretching her legs before she and Michael ran down and away from the group. It was only when the car drove beside them that Grace realized that maybe they should’ve stolen the car from the girl. They’ve been running for nearly a year, running they were used to, but a car would be a God send.

“I want my gun back.” The blond poked his head out the window.

Michael continued to run, “Piss off.”

Maybe we should have just kicked that girl out and taken the car. It might’ve had a map and we’d already be half way—damn it! When they turned a corner to go down another street, they came upon 4 corpses. Grace stopped running, breathing heavily catching her breath. She grunted at the weight of her bag, it felt heavier. “You good, Mikey?”

“Hell yeah, Gray. I got four points to my name.”

“Screw you.” Grace was tired, and feeling a bit cranky because they didn’t think to hijack the vehicle. But screw it; she wanted to beat another level. When two of the biters came close, she threw her tomahawk and it pierced the skull. She gave a tired whoop, “One.”

“Better hurry, the horde is coming.” It was the female.

Grace rolled her eyes and looked at the company sitting in the car. She thought that they’d give up and leave. The girl was in the driver’s seat, and glancing back in the mirror. They really wanted the gun, didn’t they? She didn’t blame them; fire power was hard to come by. Grace turned away from the car only to see that Michael got the other three corpses. She cursed.

“Yes, three…” He took a deep breath, before turning to see Grace yanking the hawk out of the deadhead. “Come on, Gray.”

She hesitated, looking at the horde, and then looking at the car. The Irishman was still yelling.

“Come on, give the gun back! They’re coming!”

She looked at Michael and looked to the right and saw two other zombies making their way to the dinner table. A good distance between them, but they were moving fast.

“Grace!” Michael grabbed her hand and pulled her, but she pulled back. Maybe they could jump into the car with them, call a truce.

“Let’s go with them,” she said. Michael protested instantly, but she gave him a look. He was tired, and he knew it. They handled them well enough in the shop, they could do it again. But lack of sleep made Michael adamant, and he continued to protest.

Grace let out a growl that could challenge a deadhead, “Oh my God!” She took a step closer to her companion and whispered so the others couldn’t hear. “Michael, you’re exhausted. I was the only one who slept, you didn’t. We have to.”

He rolled his eyes, and glared up at the sky. “No we don’t! I stayed up longer than this before, we can survive without them. I never failed us before—“

Bang!

The duo jumped apart in shock. Grace ignored the way her scalp stung, and saw the fallen corpse near her feet. Its hand clutched around a small chunk of hair, holy shit. That was the closest call she’s had in months!

She lifted her hand and touched her now loose ponytail, wincing as she felt the sore spot. When she looked at Michael she saw him in a frozen state, her breath hitched. In movies or TV shows when there’s a gunshot and one of the survivors is quiet and frozen then that usually means that they’ve been fatally injured. Grace was frantic and looked him all over for any injuries.

“Give the gun back or jump in! Hurry the hell up!”

Michael grabbed her hands, and shook his head silently letting her know that he’s fine. This time, without protesting he ran to the car. He took off his bag and tossed it in the backseat, pulling Grace in behind him and into the moving car, unknowingly putting himself between the other male and Grace. The blond was cursing the curly haired one again.

“—what they did to us! We can’t trust them. You can’t just invite dangerous people to the group.” The blond was almost red in the face.

“You want your gun back or not?”

Beside Grace, Michael sat stiffly. He felt uncomfortable with these strangers, but he had to deal. He almost got her killed. Grace rolled her eyes at the arguing men.

“Let’s call a truce.” Grace compromised. The blond man glared at her, and then at Michael. The blond was seated on the front seat, his back to the door. She knew that he didn’t want his back to them. Smart of him, but he had no need to worry.

The Irishman rubbed around his mouth and to his jaw. From the corner of her eye she saw Michael lift the corner of his mouth in amusement. Then finally, he huffed lazily, “If you want you can punch me in the face in retaila—shit!”

Grace burst out laughing. Nudging her companion, who was now nursing the side of his jaw, she quipped, “Minus a point.”

He nudged her back, annoyed.

After driving for a while, Michael and Grace observed the others. There was a quiet conversation in front between the two blond couple, and the curly haired male obviously had no problem sleeping with two of his attackers beside him. Grace questioned how his mind worked in this world.

A few minutes ago Michael had reluctantly given the blond his pistol back, but not without giving him trouble by holding onto it in a tight grip and into a game of tug o’ war. They had small stare down before the blond turned back to face the front, ending it. It had grown quiet, until they were able to sit in their thoughts and settle. When Michael was finally okay with his surroundings, he turned in his seat to face Grace, taking this time to comfort himself from his previous concerns and guilt.

He lifted his hand and soothingly rubbed the back of Grace’s head, guessing where she had her hair pulled. She took the elastic out a while ago when they got as comfortable as they could, and didn’t bother to put her hair back up. Grace looked away from the front and caught his brown eyes. She smiled, her hand on his thigh, settling into his side. He pulled her into him, his hand going around cupping her other shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into her hair, looking out the window.

Grace protested quietly, shaking her head against his body. It wasn’t his fault. They’d been running for days, they were both tired and it messed with their heads. They talked for a bit until Michael yawned, reminding Grace that he didn’t sleep yet. She urged him to, while she kept watch. They were safe, but not safe enough.