All that I could still chalk up to coincidence. But it didn’t end there.
I stared at her veiny neck. As much as I would’ve liked to pretend I didn’t see it, her skin had begun peeling off at the throat, revealing a mess of bloodied tissue underneath.
This can’t be... There’s no way.
“That Halloween costume must’ve taken you ages.”
“Grrrghh...”
Mom let out a growl and began approaching me with the tray.
“Wow, uh, you’ve even got the whole zombie act down pat!”
“GraAAaAgh!”
“Okay, you can stop now. No, seriously, please stop!” I cried, backing away from her.
She’s not stopping. Somebody help me! This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. My dear, sweet mother just wants to hand me the tray in person! Yes that’s it. That’s gotta be it. Oh, who am I kidding?! She’s... She’s...!
“A-Are you mad at me?”
Bro, do you hear yourself right now?!
“GraAaAAgh!”
“I promise I’ll be a good boy. I’ll, um, start going to school again! W-Will that make you happy?”
“GraAAaAgh!”
“I’ll lay off the games, I swear! Please, for the love of God, go back to being my mother!”
My pleas fell on deaf ears. She just kept on creeping closer, making those awful, guttural screams. Within moments, I had my back pressed against the wall.
“Back off or you’ll be sorry!” I screamed, clutching my gun controller.
There’s no way this is real. I must still be in the game.
In the virtual world, a single pull of the trigger would’ve been enough to put an end to this torment. But this wasn’t the virtual world, nor did I have a real gun by my side. As well-made as the replica was, it couldn’t shoot bullets.
I held back the tears as best as I could and menacingly held up the SCAR-H. She didn’t even flinch. Those milky eyes of hers weren’t even looking at me; they were looking through me.
“Don’t you dare come any closer!”
Still, my pitiful attempts at intimidation went nowhere.
I couldn’t force myself to pistol-whip my own mother with a five-kilogram weight, so I just aimlessly swung it around in the air, hoping she’d go away.
She didn’t. In fact, she lunged straight at me.
I blacked out for a second, and next thing I knew, my SCAR-H had made solid contact with her skull, producing a wet thump. The tray fell out of her hands, its spoiled contents scattering all over the floor.
“I didn’t mean to, I swear...! Huh?”
She was still standing, albeit hunched over with her neck bent unnaturally to one side. The impact had left most of her body momentarily frozen, save for her arms, which appeared capable of operating on their own. With inhuman strength, they tried to rip the gun controller out of my hands.
“Oh no you don’t!” I said as I managed to pry it away from her.
Had I been holding the gun properly, my index finger would’ve probably gotten crushed against the trigger guard. The force was just that intense.
“GraAagh!”
I couldn’t utter another word. True fear whisked away one’s voice; there was no screaming, only deafening silence.
Jaw unhinged, she resumed moving toward me. Half her teeth were missing, while the other half were in the process of rotting away, which added an extra layer of believability to the whole thing.
I’m gonna get eaten alive, I’m gonna get eaten alive!
My fight-or-flight response kicked in, telling me to make a break for it. The problem was that I had no real escape route. Mom was currently blocking the exit, and I didn’t have it in me to jump out of a second-story window. We had spikes nailed to the top of the fence as a measure against trespassing. If I were to fumble my fall, there was a very real chance I’d impale myself by accident.
This must all be one big nightmare. There’s no other feasible explanation. But wait, what if I really am still in the virtual world? Like, I got sucked into some new zombie FPS that’s all the rage. I’ve just got to take off my headset and everything will go back to normal.
“GraAaAagh!”
“Get away from me!”
I hastily emptied out my tactical pouch, where I had stored away my HK VP9 and any spare magazines, and then I chucked them at her one by one. Once those ran out, I resorted to throwing books, plastic bottles, and even heftier pieces of trash. That was the best I could do, given the circumstances.
“Get away, get away, get away!”
One of the plastic bottles I threw still had some liquid inside, and it got all over my room. It was going to stain if I didn’t clean it up, but I didn’t exactly have the time or patience to be doing that right now.
I’m out of ammo!
Game, set, match... or so I thought.
“Sweet Jesus!”
I caught sight of sparks flying out of the wall socket and leapt away immediately. A second later, my mother’s body began violently convulsing.
“No way,” I murmured.
Upon closer inspection, I noticed she was standing on top of a power strip drenched in a puddle of water. She was being electrocuted.
“GraAA—grggh—aAar—rgh!” The current was so strong, she couldn’t even keep a proper roar going for more than a moment.
Her being locked in place had nothing to do with pain; the electrical current passing through her body was zapping her nervous system and assaulting her with muscle spasms, preventing her from moving voluntarily.
A few moments later, the power strip burst into flames.
This appeared to be the final nail in the coffin, as she fell flat on her face right then and there, knocking the nearby bookshelf off balance in the process. Well, it had been a bookshelf two years ago, anyway. Since then, it had become my dumping ground for all sorts of boxes.
“Mom?”
She was pelted by all the boxes as they slid from the shelves until the whole piece of furniture came down on her full force.
“...Mom?”
There was an audible splatter, followed by silence.
“Mom, a-are you okay?”
A well-timed pool of thick, rancid blood started seeping out from underneath the bookshelf. It really drove the point home.
She’s dead. There’s no question about it. Her head got cracked wide open. There’s no way in hell she’s recovering from that. Still, it feels wrong to call her “dead” in the first place. Part of me feels like...
“You were never even alive to begin with.”
Any normal, fully functioning human being would’ve paid the doctor a visit by now, or at least have refrained from serving their own child spoiled food. Zombies could groan and move about, but their actions completely lacked the drive and vitality possessed by the living.
“This is all just a bad fever dream, right?”
There was no reply.