The Silence. (A post apocalyptic story)

Hi all. This is the intro to my short story. I hope you enjoy reading and thank you in advance for any critique.

Heavy footsteps pound off of the concrete. Black boots thump the ground in frantic rhythm and the noise echoes through the estate. Ragged breath tears from her throat and her dirty skin glistens with a film of sweat.

They're behind her. More than she has ever seen since the horrors began. The crowd constantly shuffle forward. Desperate, incoherent moans escaping their gnawed and rotted lips. Blood stained fingers snatching out even though their meal is far from reach. Their only desire, their only motivator, their only instinct is to sink their rotted teeth into her fresh human flesh. Her smell drives them insane with hunger. They haven't eaten in weeks but they cannot die. Thus is their cruel fate, to starve eternally.

The noises of the walking dead permeate the air around her, but still her gaze is steady, locked on the path ahead. A hint of a smile dances at the corners of her lips. She knows where she is going.

With swift footwork she turns a corner. Her rubber soles scrape the ground as she struggles to maintain speed whilst manoeuvring. To slow down now could be fatal. She screams out taunts as she runs, ensuring the brain dead creatures will continue to follow now she has escaped their line of sight.

"Come on, follow me! It's lunchtime!" Her voice is torn and ragged as it tears from her throat.

The estate turns quiet, only the sound of her own echoing voice resonates through the maze of brick buildings. She halts, worried they have stopped chasing her. The path behind her is empty. She watches the corner, her chest heaving up and down. To run back and regain their attention would be too much of a risk. She continues to watch, silently praying they will come. The disappointment of having her plans squashed now would be too much to bear.

"Come on, you dumb ****s," she says, through gritted teeth.

Nothing. Aggravated fear begins to build in her chest, the pressure of which threatens to burst her rib cage. How far ahead did she get? Her feet start to itch as she decides on her next action. Standing still while outside is a rarity. It makes her uncomfortable.

"**** it!"

She takes off, ignoring every nerve in her body, back the way she came. She cannot leave without completing what she set out to do this morning. Fear builds as she nears the corner and then explodes when she almost runs into one of them. She is sure she has seen him before. His mouth is upturned in a horrifically stretched grimace. Half of his cheek is missing and his blackened incisors are visible through the torn opening. It's the eyes that are the most terrifying though. Stone cold. Not a hint of humanity left behind the cloudy iris'. She screams and backtracks quickly. He snatches out toward her and his grotesque stature is followed by more twisted faces. She trips and lands on the ground. Some of them cry out wildly and swoop down toward her but she back peddles with speed. Finally she pulls herself off the ground and turns to run.

She moves as fast as she can, her mouth pulled back in a grimace of fear. Distance quickly separates her from the relatively slow movers, all but him. He is faster than the others. Her eyes lock on her destination and she runs faster, desperate to reach safety.

Her feet drum to a halt as she reaches the flat roofed garage and in a quick movement she scrambles up onto the strategically placed wheelie bin. She jumps to reach the lip of the garage roof. Aware of the groping arms behind her she fights incapacitating fear and pulls herself up; narrowly avoiding a snatching hand.

She allows herself to calm. Watching the masses surround the garage on all sides, she has never seen this many all at once before. The sea of horrible faces, twisted and torn, moan up at her desperate for a bite. Gnashing jaws snap the air as they anticipate tearing flesh from her bones. They push each other out of the way as they try to get at their meal.

She laughs at them. It is a sound born from fear and hysteria. A sound born from the horrors she has witnessed over the past year. Everything and everyone she has lost at the hands of those creatures, manifests into the sound. The laugh lingers then turns hysterical as she glares down at them with wide, red rimmed eyes. They are too stupid to comprehend the trap that has been set. And she looks forward to watching them burn.

Striding toward the bundle that was dropped here yesterday, she stoops to pick up two yellow canisters and returns to the edge of the garage. On her haunches, she unscrews the canister lids. Her forefinger and thumb twist the plastic screw top slowly, she wants to enjoy every second of this. The strong smell of petrol escapes, the fumes drifting out of the half opened canister and hitting her nostrils. It is a welcome smell. It masks the constant smell of death. Once opened, she stands for her baying audience. With outstretched arms she flings the contents of each canister in every direction. They don't react. They cannot sense any danger. All they want is to appease their everlasting hunger.

Pushing her hand into her jeans pocket, she retrieves a battered pack of cigarettes and a carton of matches. She takes a cigarette and nips it between her teeth whilst opening the matchbox. With trembling hands she strikes a match. Grain against grit, the tiny stick flames into life.

Even now they cannot connect the dots and understand the danger.

Shielding the precious flame with her hand she lights the cigarette before stepping closer to the edge. They go wild. Flaying hands, gnarled and rotting, try to reach for her. She stoops low again, still shielding the flame. For the first time she really looks into their faces, searching for some trace of humanity.

"Poor ****ing wretches,"

Her voice tantalises them further and she shakes her head in disgust. When the flame almost burns her fingers and she cannot hold it any longer, she lets it go. Dropping the match onto the face of the closest zombie. He instantly roars into flames.

Two more matches dropped over each side of the garage and her plan is complete. She watches the bonfire until the final embers flicker out. There is no more sound. Only a massive pile of blackened bodies, put to rest.