Written for the @WattpadZombies January 2020 contest "And Then There Were Zombies".

PROMPT: Write the immediate events directly before the zombie apocalypse breaks out for your MC.

James slunk into the darkened church and paused to ensure he was alone before moving quietly from shadow to shadow along the exterior wall. Father Clarnet was probably in his room already since it was after 11pm.

The slight squeak of the kitchen door when he pushed it open was loud in the silence. He snapped on the light, wincing slightly at the harsh flourescents that flooded the room.

The storage room door was ajar, so he poked his head in.

"Turn the light off, man," came Viktor's voice from the dark.

"Just let me get some grub," James replied.

"Do you need anything?" Petra asked from the top bunk at the back of the room.

She wasn't asking if he needed help getting food, but if he'd managed to shimmy down the drainpipe outside his kitchen window before his dad got home. On whiskey nights, when he didn't hear his dad's approach, then he might need help with any variety of first aid that Father Clarnet had taught them, if not calling their unofficial guardian himself for help.

The priest was close-lipped about what led him from life as an army medic into the priesthood, but they were all grateful on more than one occasion for what he knew and his willingness to teach them.

If Petra and Viktor were here, it meant their nights hadn't been heading in a better direction than his.

After years of taking care of each other, the three of them had begged not to be put in the system, which meant they'd get moved into the city and separated. Father Clarnet had worked out the arrangement with Chief Hall to convert the rectory storage room and pantry into two make-shift bedrooms for them to stay in whenever they needed. Petra preferred to stay in the same room with the two boys because it helped keep her nightmares away, so they just kept the third mattress under the bunk bed permanently.

James flexed his shoulders. "I'm good, thanks." He felt the warmth of Petra's smile through the dark.

Slapping together a PB&J sandwich in the kitchen, James went back into the makeshift bedroom where Viktor said from the bottom bunk, "Father Clarnet wants us to help install the new siding tomorrow."

James nodded and settled onto the mattress Viktor had pulled out for him.

"You two better leave the hammering to me!" Petra teased.

"It's not my fault I have bad aim!" In the dim nightlight, Viktor held up the thumb that he'd smashed more than once while working on some project.

Along with agreeing to stay in school and keep their marks up, part of the exchange for staying at the rectory was helping out around the rectory and town doing maintenance and repairs. None of them minded because they'd learned all sorts of handy skills.

"I wish we could get out of this dead-end town tomorrow," Viktor grumbled.

James glanced to the top bunk where Petra hung slightly off the side watching him eat and met her eyes.

Last week when just he and Petra had been here, they'd brainstormed how they could get both them and Viktor out of this 764-person town. Being only 15 themselves with Viktor at 14, they didn't have many options.

Father Clarnet had overheard their conversation and joined them at the kitchen table. He hadn't held back at all in warning them about the harshness of living on the street. He said it came from his time working with the homeless, but some of his stories had an authentic ring that made them wonder.

James shook his head. "I think we just need to hold tight for now. With what we're learning, we could probably get a job on any building site once we're of age."

Petra snorted. "Easy for you to say. I won't be hired just because I'm a girl."

In unison, Viktor and James began to vehemently protest her statement.

"We'll make sure they get to see your skills, Petra. You're already a better builder than either of us. Don't worry. We've got your back." James nodded to accentuate the seriousness of his statement.

Warmth suffused his chest at Petra's smile.

He hated the saying blood was thicker than water. So, since a transfusion wouldn't change his lineage, he'd taken the situation in his own hands and adopted a different family of his own choosing. Through thick and thin, he knew he could count on these two. Father Clarnet too.

His smile widened at the realisation that he included a priest in his family. Something he'd never have imagined possible.

Above him, still laying over the bunk edge with eyes locked on him, Petra's smile widened in turn. His heart expanded with love as they lay staring at one another. He'd never disrespect Father Calnet by trying anything here. With the promise of a future together in her eyes, there was no need to rush.

The door to the kitchen banged open and the light came on.

"James? Petra? Viktor?" called Father Calnet, an edge of fear palpable in his voice that got closer as he spoke.

"Are they here?" asked Chief Hall, whose heavy tread thumped across the kitchen.

James rose immediately and faced the door. Petra jumped lightly to the floor and put a hand on his lower back. Viktor crowded in behind them both.

"Maybe they've come to tell one of us our parents kicked the bucket," Viktor whispered hopefully.

The storage room door flew open so fast it banged off the wall.

Father Clarnet looked around frantically counting them, then rushed in and gathered the three of them in a bear hug. "Oh Holy Father, thank you!"

From his squashed position against the Father's right armpit, James raised a quizzical brow at Petra who gave a half-shrug. The priest had never so much as shook their hands before.

"What's up, Padre?" came Viktor's muffled voice from where his face was pressed against James' back.

The priest released them and stepped back immediately.

Chief Hall filled the doorway behind him. "Are they all here?"

Father Clarnet nodded and gave them a shaky, relieved smile. "Thank God, they are."

The officer frowned slightly when he saw James, then exchanged a look with Father Clarnet.

James stiffened his spine to stand more upright. Petra tightened her grip on the back of his shirt. "Just tell it to me straight, please, Chief. Did something happen to my dad?"

If something had, then James would automatically get shunted into the system unless, by some miracle, he was taken in by someone in the town. Since pretty much everyone turned a blind eye to how he and his friends were treated by the people who were supposed to protect them, he wasn't counting on that.

Petra snaked her hand into his and squeezed, buoying him with her support. Even if he did get shipped off to the city, he'd find a way to stay in touch with her.

"Did you see your dad at all tonight, James?" asked the officer.

The boy shook his dark head. "No, I got out before he got home. With how he was walking down the street, it looked like a whiskey night."

The Father and Chief of Police exchanged another look.

"Just tell me. Please," said James.

"It was some kind of night. But not whiskey," Chief Hall began.

There was a loud thump on the back door, followed by some kind of elongated low noise.

The adults ran into the kitchen followed by the youth.

At the back door, pressing his ghoulish white face into the window, was James' father. But his eyes were vacantly searching and a long string of drool hung from his slack mouth. Another long moan came from his mouth as he slapped a hand on the window.

James stepped forward, but Father Clarnet put a hand on his shoulder to stop him going further.

"No, son," he said. "That's not your dad any more. That's a zombie. Viktor, get the light so we don't attract more."

James didn't know which was stronger: his relief at not having to fear his father's drunken wrath anymore, or his fear over the fact that he now had to worry about his dad for completely different reasons.

"This is the ultimate in not wanting to turn out like your father," James whispered just as the light clicked off. 

He didn't voice his next question about who was going to take out his zombie-dad. He wasn't sure if he was ready, even if he was willing.

Chief Hall turned to him and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it as he thoughtfully regarded the expression on James' face.

James' heart began to beat rapidly as he waited to hear what the Chief, in charge for all intents and purposes, would decide.

WORD COUNT: 1599

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you or someone you know is living with or in a relationship with an abusive person, please seek help.