I was walking my kid sister home from her softball game. Izzy's team, the Cower Bold Eagles, had lost. Again. She was mumbling about bad teamwork and poor stamina. I rolled my eyes. She was so into her softball games and basketball games and volley ball games. But she could do more than I can.
I'm NOT a sports person. But I do do something most people think I'm crazy for. Free-style fighting. My dad doesn't have enough money to get me into any real classes for Karate and what not, so one day my best friend, Jamie, and I just started fooling around with a broken pipe at the side of an old abandoned building. Soon we got stronger, more agile, and before we knew it, we were spilling the beans to all of our friends and family and classmates. Then one day a bunch of kids all younger, the same age, and older than us came up to where we were "training" and said that they wanted in the fun as well.
But anyway. Back to the story.
It was getting dark beyond reasoning-no, I mean really. Even in the night, NYC doesn't get that dark. It's because of all of the street lights and apartment lights and all. Not many of the street lamps were on. And, to be perfectly honest, I got kind of nervous. I mean, it's NEW YORK, for the love of God. You hear about people being murdered and raped and mugged all the time here.
And not only that, but recently there have been strange killings going on the sides of the Big Apple. More unnatural than usual. Like people getting scalped and stuff like that. One morning while I was eating a bowl of Jack's, there was a purple-and-green elderly man that was found in a dumpster-PURPLE AND GREEN! How often do you hear about that?
But Izzy wasn't afraid, or even if she was, she wasn't showing it. "Hey, can we go to Lower's? I want to say hi to Chris."
I rolled my eyes. Chris was Izzy's illegal boyfriend. She wasn't supposed to be dating anyone, according to law set by our father. She always met the punk at different, shady places. And the reason why she wanted to go to Lower's was because she knew that was the local Goth hang out. "No," I said simply.
"WHAT?! WHY?!" she screamed, and I was pretty much positive that the whold west side of NYC could have heard her.
"Shut up!" I hissed. "Reason number one: I have studying to do tomorrow for that major social studies test that determins my fate. Reason number two: It's late and Dad would kill me if he knew that I took you to some shady place like Lower's. And Reason number. . . ," I stopped, knowing that I shouldn't go on anymore, less my little sister and I have a full on war. She was already fuming behind me, giving me a look that could kill.
"Go on," she beckoned in a voice that I knew was pissed.
I sighed. "And reason number three: Chris is NOT good for you."
Izzy was quiet for a moment, but then she spoke, her temper rising. "What do you mean, 'he's not good for me'?"
"Izzy, Chris is a boy who has 'trouble' written all over his face. He's shady, has robbed a good number of banks according to you, has mugged one more person than necessary, and besides that, you're starting to act like a little brat."
"OK, first of all, I am NOT a little BRAT! Second, Chris is sweet and talented."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Whatever."
"It's true! Look, you don't know him like I do, alright?! And since you DON'T know him like I do, I suggest that you just SHUT UP!" she screamed at me, slamming her Eagle cap down to the cement. I watched, horrified, as she ran off into the setting sun.
I was exasperated. it was a shame that Izzy wasn't as smart as I. Our little apartment was to the east, and Lower's was to the west. Or course she would be going there. So I took off running after her.
She didn't really have that much of a fair advantage. I was sixteen, had longer legs, and I was pretty much trained to run like hell any time I needed to-Jamie and I had taken our training pretty seriouly a couple of times. Izzy was only a softball/basketball/volley ball player. And even though they all required fast running, she was never the FASTEST. So I knew I could catch her. And I was soon gaining on her.
I seen her long blonde hair fall into sink with the rest of her body as she rounded the corner. Suddenly she ran into a tall, big man. My feet stopped running almost immediately, and I was only a few meters away. Izzy was flat on her ass, wiping dust from her chest.
Slowly, she got up. "I-I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled shamelessly. "I didn't mean to. Can I help you with anything?" I smiled in spite of myself. Despite her ornery to me and my friends, she was nice to complete strangers. Oh well. At least she knew her manners.
Apparently, however, the man she had run into did not. He just stood there. He was in the shadows, so I could only see his silhoutte. The man was big, muscular. The kind of guy that could crush an alligator's mouth in one fell swing. I gulped. There were a lot of villians in the Big Apple. Could that man be one of them? I pondered that. Everything in me screamed to turn, run, run as fast as I could and get away.
But I couldn't do that. I was a big sister of Izzy, and it was my responsibility to take care of her, no matter how much I thought that she had bad taste in men. "Izzy," I said, cautionly. "We need to go now. Let's go."
She nodded, and we both ran. As fast as we could. But suddenly I felt a hard knock to the back of my neck, and Izzy and I were both on the ground. I looked over. The man had missed his target on me, but had succeede in knocking my little sister out.
Rage boiled inside of my belly. No one touched my family. NO ONE. Not sense Mom died. I did a flip and landed back on my feet, protective of Izzy on the ground. I crouched, ready to fight if need be. But then I gasped, and everything I had ever been tought or had tought myself let my memory bank.
The man was a greenish-gray color, with his skin peeling off in certain places. His torso was red with faded blood, and his pants were scratched from stumbling. He had yellow eyes, and looking into them, I could tell that he had no emotions.
I could only gap. Was this a. . . a. . . zombie. . . ?
I shook my head in frustration. "No, no, there's no such thing as zombies! Idiot! Get a hold of yourself!" I thought to myself.
"Should I run without Izzy, stay and help, or run with her?" I asked myself. I looked down at Izzy's unconcious body. Could I really leave her a lone?
"No. . . . I could never leave her a lone. Or can I?"
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