My name is Chris, Ive lost track of time. It feels like years since I first started running, but I think its only been a few months. Days turn to weeks, and the weeks drags on, such is the new way of life. And yet, despite the violence and chaos, I dont really miss the old world...

Monday, January 31, 2011

Quick thinking

      Stepping back from the railing, I see Brock heading in my direction.  Heading in his direction I whisper as silently as I can.  "We need to turn back, before those things know were here."  He cocks his head, not a care about the volume of his response.  "How bad can it be?"  As if to answer him, one or two moans float up at first, then they begin to swell.  My eyes widen at the sound of the collective moan that seemed to say dinner has arrived!  "Come on, come on lets get the fuck out of here.  There is no way that anyone survived on the first floor."  No longer caring about the noise, I began to run back to the stairwell, but alone.  Turning back I yell at Brock, "I'm not going to wait all day, don't make me leave you behind!"  Not waiting to see him follow, I run to the door leading to the roof.  The smell of decay that seemed to soak its self into the walls was blown away by the salty sea breeze that greeted me as I pulled the door open.  I wait as I hear the moans getting more frequent, almost angry even.  Brock begins to come down the hallway, about five feet in front of me before we hear an ear shattering scream.  Frozen in place, all I can do is watch as Brock runs back to the source.  But it doesn't take him long to come running back, almost plowing me out of the way in the process.
      Stumbling out into the frozen sunset, I slam the door behind me as quick as possible.  "...Its just the two of us now huh?"  Brock nods as he heads to the ladder.  I follow silently, he feels this was a failure on his end, I can see it.  But its not.  He wont listen to you explain it.  Making our way to the ground, the undead slamming on the door continues to intensify.  As we start to make our way from the very active nest of undead, the door we had left through mere moments ago is knocked off its hinges.  Turning around we see the undead pour through the tiny door frame, flooding the rooftop.  Several of them see us, and give chase.  This could get interesting, I think as I watch one particular zombie on the roof.  Its arms outstretched as it stumbles blindly over the edge of the roof, falling headfirst onto the frozen earth.  slowly, but surely, the rest follow suit and drop to their demise.  Either killing themselves or simply breaking their backs.  But what had e and Brock worried was the ones on the first floor, the barricades were being torn apart from the inside, and what hadn't followed us to the roof were coming for us through the windows.  "We gotta get out of here before they can follows us back!"  Taking my advice, Brock heads down the street, taking the long way back.
            About a quarter of a mile away, we stop and turn around.  There must have been a hundred of them, more still pushing their way through the broken windows.  Looking around, I see several alleys that are clear of any signs of life.  "We need to take as many as we can out.  If were lucky, the rest will freeze."  Brock readies his baseball bat, as I take the safety off of my handgun.  Fifteen in the clip, maybe two more on me.  Fuck  There wasn't enough ammo to take them all, If only we could take a chunk of them out at once.  "Hey, how good is your aim?"  Brock asked as the horde slowly slouched towards us, their moans echoing throughout the street.  "It got me this far, why?"  Rhetorical, but I asked him anyways.  He points to the cars parked along the street.  "Think you could hit the gas tank?  Risky, but it could take out a decent amount of them with a few bullets.  I didn't have time to weigh out the options, taking a moment to aim, my sight finds the gas tank.  "You have anywhere in mind to hide from the blast?" Asking as I wait for our rotting followers to shamble within the blast radius.  Too late!  the crowd begins to converge on the car, if I wait any longer I wont have a clear shot of the tank.  Taking a deep breath, I squeeze the trigger.  The blast is barely heard over the moaning of the undead, hungry and howling for my flesh.  The sound of metal grazing metal is heard at first along with a hiss, followed by the explosion I had hoped for.  The car is sent skyward, crashing down on a mob of undead.  what the initial blast didn't kill, the fires would take care of the rest.  My ears are ringing, surprisingly the undead took the brunt of the explosion.  Looking back to Brock, I smile and give him a thumbs up.  He is yelling something, but that damn ringing, I couldn't hear a thing.  Suddenly the top of my head is struck by a chunk of debris, falling to my knees, I can feel the snow soaking the knees of my pants.  So tired, just lay down.  Only for a second.  I'm having trouble staying awake, the ringing in my ears slowly fades away.  I feel myself being picked up, but I still cant keep myself awake.  Slowly I slip from the waking world as I hear a familiar voice above the ringing...

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Rescue, part one

     Circling the remains of the community center, I see a caved in barricade on the opposite end of the building, I hesitate to make a sound, not wanting the ghouls inside to know of my presence.  After a couple of minutes, the cold coast wind cutting through my coat and effectively chilling me to the bone, Brock sneaks around the corner. Waving him down we wait for the third to join us.  Brock listens to my plan, as he scans the building behind us for any signs of activity.  "Well, we have one entrance so far.  If that room is clear, we may have one of us stay there to make sure it stays clear.  But if it gets too dangerous, I say we call the search off and count it as a loss.  It may seem harsh, but there's no point of having anyone else die."  As I finish my sentence, the third of our group comes sprinting from the corner behind me.  "Hey!  I found a way onto the roof!  There's a ladder back this way."  Taking a second to take this new information in I ask Brock if he had been in this community center before.  Slightly confused he answers.  "Yeah, Ive been in here a few times.  Why do you ask?"    Pointing to the roof, I answer.  "We can use the roof as a main entrance, the broken barricade here as an exit, If we find anyone here whose wounded, they might not be able to use the ladder."  He nods in agreement as he heads back to side of the building where the ladder is.  "Well, lets get going.  I want to be back before dark."
        The snow on the roof is untouched, I don't know whether that is a good sign or not.  Heading towards the stairwell leading inside I can hear muffled voices faintly coming from behind the door.  I ready my handgun as I open the door, scanning the narrow hallway for shadows.  "Hello?"  I call out into the poorly lit hallway, no answer, living or dead.  Puzzled I head to the T at the end, "Hey, Is anyone left in here?"  Nothing still.  My stomach tightens, the smell of decay intensifies the farther we get from our entrance.  Not a good sign...  "Ill take the left, you take the right."  Brock steps ahead of me as he veers towards the right, something in his voice had seemed odd, but I ignore it as I take the left side.  Most of the doors were locked, save a janitors closet and a classroom on the end of the hall.  Stepping inside, handgun first, I see what seems to be a room converted into a community bedroom.  Clearing the room, I take a moment to relax.  Being out of the biting cold wind was a relief, feeling had begun to return to my face as I sat down and looked at some of the stuff left behind.  Mostly stuffed animals and blankets, a few cell phones and an mp3 player.  Hoping there was still some juice left in it as I picked up and put it in my pocket.  I don't care whats in it as long as I can listen to some freaking music.  Its been a long time since I had heard anything other than gunshots and moans.  Some heavy metal would be a change.  Hell, I would even listen to rap, I'm not going to be picky.Standing back up I head towards the door.  Maybe Brock had found someone, maybe we could get back to the warehouse soon.
       Stepping out as silent as a ghost, I check the last three rooms on the end of the hall.  All locked, heading back to the T, I see no sign of Brock or the other man in our group.  Why cant I remember his name?  Heading down the right side of the hallway, I see an opened door.  Peering in, I see Brock staring at a wall.  As I come to his side, I ask him what he had found.  No answer.  "Hey, are you alright?  You are starting to scare me man, say something."  Still nothing, all he can do is point to a picture on the wall.  I reach out and take the frame off the wall, taking a look at the picture.  It was a group photo, and in that photo was Brock along with a few other adults.  He was holding....  "...your daughter."  I wasn't even aware that I had said it out loud.  He doesn't cry, but his voice is close to breaking.  "I couldn't find her or my wife.  I kept hoping the more people I found, eventually I would find them."  I put my hand on his shoulder, "We'll keep looking.  but for now, lets take the picture and look for who we came to find."  Pulling the photo out of the frame, I put it in his pocket.  Heading back out into the hall I call out, "Hey, we don't have time to admire the wall all day."  I laugh at the end to ease the tension.  About halfway down the hall the wall cuts off, railing continuing the rest of the way towards the stairs.  Looking down I nearly let out a cry of shock, hundreds of the dead listlessly bumping into each other.  This is going to get ugly if they spot us....

Saturday, January 29, 2011


        Days turn to weeks, and the weeks fade into months.  Sitting in my post on the roof I keep an eye out on the streets below.  The snow had been coming down for a few months now.  With the cold weather came a sense of comfort, the undead that had lazily prowled the streets had been frozen solid.  Several groups had been sent out to finish what nature had started with the walking blights.  Leaning back in my chair, I start to relax.  There was no point in a lookout when what was hunting you was frozen, but I still come up here on my allotted days.  It was so peaceful, I was reminded of the walks I would take back in Alaska.  The sense of complete calm a snow covered landscape could bring was welcome.  Periodically, I would look around to see if the teams had come back from their respected tasks, but the streets were clear.  Getting out of my chair, I head towards the stairs.  I had almost reached the door until I heard a distant cry for help, One of the teams had run into trouble.  Running to the edge of the roof, I peer towards the direction of the call for help.  Seeing a man, I think his name was Allen, briskly limping for the gate.  Behind him was a trail of blood, not a good sign, I dart for the door as the steps fly below my feet, Brock needs to know there may be a team injured or gone.
        Making my way towards the center of the first floor, everyone gathered around Brock as he divvied up the tasks for the week, I shout his mane out to get his attention as fast as I could.  "There's been an accident, one of the teams may be in trouble!"  Blurting out as I barely keep myself from running into him.  Right before he could gather a search group, the side door bursts open, Allen staggering in.  A collective gasp of surprise came from the crowd as he dropped to the ground, a sobbing quivering mess.  Running to his side, I kneel to his level, his face pale and weak.  "What happened man?  Is everyone else alright?"  Brock's voice was as worried as if they were all his children.  The longer I stay here, the more respect I find for him, truly a good man.  Walking to the center, he calls for an emergency group, already dressed for the cold I step forward.  "I just need to get my stuff and I'm ready to roll."  Looking back to the crowd, Brock asks, "Well, do we have another volunteer?"
               As I make the final adjustments to my holsters, I make my way to the door.  Allen was sitting by the door, his wounds the result of blindly darting out of "the nest" as he called it.  It was a community center on the coast, used as a hideout from the undead.  Apparently it hadn't held out, the supplies in there were too tempting to pass up.  Knowing whether or not anyone was alive wasn't the problem, it was whether or not I was going to make it back alive that bothered me.  Opening the door, I poke my head out and check the wintry landscape for signs of the undead.  Nothing so far...  Out the door I step as the cold air whips past my face, the smell of salt in the air.  Myself, along with Brock and two others, head across the yard to the gate.  The closer I get to the gate, the harder it is to shake off this looming sense of dread.  I stop in my tracks, the others jog ahead of me.  Time to go, save yourself.  Don't need to be dying for someone else now.    The thoughts were coming back, that self preserving voice in my head was as loud as before, but I didn't want to listen to it.  This was my time to shine.  "Hey, we don't have time to admire the snow!  Come on!"  Brock yelling as he continued in the direction of the blood trail Allen had left.  Suddenly I was back in the real world, and running to catch up.
           Several blocks away we come to an intersection, the blood trail seems to end here.  Taking a closer look someone else finds his foot prints in the snow,  minus the blood.  "Maybe he...maybe he was bit.  Someone needs to warn the others." Brock says as he kneels in the snow, desperately looking for the continuation of the blood trail.  Turning back, one of the men in our group takes this as the time to return to camp.  Me, Brock, and this guy... this just keeps getting better and better.    Here goes nothing.   I  dart out in the opposite direction, checking each window for a broken or non barricaded window to enter.  Not knowing what I was getting into made it easier to dart into blindly, an action that could very well end up killing me.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

déjà vu

    Upon entering the warehouse I am greeted by a sight I have seen several times over.  Humanity making a struggle to survive.  Although the warehouse is spacious, It is a prison to the free willed people within.  Walking past a group in the middle of the area, Brock informs me that introductions will be made after the tour.  The bottom floor of the warehouse is what I can only describe as the common grounds of this fortress like building.  Those not out scavenging for supplies or fortifying the grounds congregate here and try to live as nothing outside is going on.  The second floor once held several offices and have now been converted into sleeping quarters, makeshift beds are scattered over the floor.  Cubicle walls have been rearranged for privacy, and the roof is split into two different sections.  The inner area has been walled off to make a shower area, the outer half is used for lookout posts.  After receiving the grand tour the only thing on my mind is the shower area.  Its been a long time since I took a shower.  Brock starts heading back downstairs, but I remain in place.  The last time I had taken a shower was in St. Louis, back when I was part of another group.  Although so much has happened, I can still see Carmen's face like it was yesterday. Those dark locks of curly hair covering her beautiful face, so full of fear.  I wonder if she is still alive, providing medical attention to those still in that apartment building.  If they are still....  "Hey, you gonna stand there and stare at your feet?  Or are ya gonna meet everybody?"  Brock's voice was loud, but there was a trace of worry in his voice.  Looking up, Carmen's face fading from memory, "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just...kind of trailed off there.  I'm right behind ya."  I say I'm fine, but I don't know if I can convince myself.  But for now, all I need to do is convince everyone else.  I can work on me later.
        Coming back down to the first floor, I see nine people in the center.  A family with a young child.  No younger than that kid...  Again I am haunted by ghosts of my past, someone else I couldn't save.  Mentally shaking it off, I continue down the stairs to meet the others.  "There's a few of them out right now, we have been running out of tools and perishables.  Been meaning to get a farm of sorts going."  Brock says as he heads into the center, waving me to join him.  Continuing to the crowd, his voice is considerably more lighthearted than earlier.  "We have a new guest everybody.  His name is Chris, but I think he could do a better job of introducing himself than I could."  Laughing as he steps back into the crowd.  Looking amongst the faces, many of them seem to be relieved, several looking at me like they should know me.  Suddenly my stomach clenches and I cant find my voice.  I know this feeling, I'm nervous.  A million thoughts come rushing to my head at once.  Where Ive been, what I  have done to make it this far.  The people I have met along the way.  But I don't want to ramble on for hours, so I take a moment and start with what I think is the most important and start from there.
      I'm not one for speeches, but the most important thing for these people is to know the severity of the outbreak.  But I'm sure some, if not all of them, know its quite severe"Well, like Brock said, my name is Chris.  I...Well, I'm not really good with public speaking so ill keep it short.  I don't know if you know, but whatever is happening, its national.  I come from Tennessee.  I met up with a group from Boston.  Ive seen military checkpoints in ruin, but there's still hope.  Ive come across several fortified locations, it means were making a stand. It means what you are doing, its working.  While I'm here Ill do whatever I can to help you all make this place run smoothly."  Standing there for a moment, nobody says a word, they merely stare ahead.  Taking in a new face.  As I come head towards Brock to ask what I can do, an elderly woman approaches me.  "You say you are from Tennessee right?  What part?"  Her voice has a hint of hope, as if she hopes to get information from me.  "Yes ma'am, I'm from Maury county, do you know of it?"  Eyes lighting up she grabs my hand, her frail grip suddenly intensifies.  "I had...have family in Davidson, Do you know if anyone held out there?  I received a call from them saying there was some kind of quarantine, but that's all I got.  I haven't heard from them since..."  Tears begin to well in her eyes, The pain of losing family is intense, I should know.  "Honestly ma'am, I do not know.  Those things attacked while I was at work, I didn't even have time...."  Its my turn to trail off.  I have to take a moment to recollect myself, or I just may have broken down.  Suddenly she had wrapped her arms around me, patting my back.  "Its okay honey, you did what you could, nobody could have prepared for this."
I need a shower.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Welcome to the coast

     Losing my undead followers, I slow down.  The roads are littered with abandoned vehicles but its a manageable drive.  As I begin to approach the city limits the number of cars on the road begin to dwindle.  The car I "acquired" Is a very nice ride.  One of those new models just off the lot, the digital compass helps a great deal.  Thinking about all the luxuries this car had let me escape the real world for a moment.  For once, I had a top of the line car.  I was the only one on the road, and I didn't pay a dime.  A few months ago I would have been on top of the world.  Looking ahead brought me back, in the road there was a trio of the undead hunched over something in the middle of the road.  An out of place grin had cracked across my face, and I stepped on the gas.  The crunch of bones heard below my as the car heaved up and down, the went back to smooth sailing. Looking in the rear view mirror I see a mass of gore, my tires leaving a short trail before disappearing.  Sure it was hell on the car, but its the best Ive felt in a while.  The tangled mass of bodies shrinking in the rear view mirror, which told me I was heading west.
      The wind blowing in the vehicle through the smashed window smelled of the ocean, which had brought back memories from childhood.  Playing on the beach in the Carolinas, I felt like I did when we used to go to the beach.  "Mom, you'd be proud of me.  I'm making it on my own..."  My voice was lost below the wind flowing in.  Slowing down to light a cigarette, the smoke dances in place above my head before being blown away by the wind as I gained speed.  Continuing down the road, the roads begin to thicken with vehicles, a seaside town sprawled behind the sea of steel in front of me.  Unable to traverse the road by car, I say goodbye to most likely the nicest thing I have ever owned, even if temporarily.  Snaking between the wrecked and abandoned vehicles I make my way towards the beginning of the town and flick the cigarette away from me.  Coming to one of the last cars before the streets clear out, I duck behind the trunk and take in the street ahead.  Clear for the most part, but there were some fresh corpses out, a few of them were unmoving.  "Fresh kills, they might be up soon..."  As I unholster my gun, I see a figure dart out from the other side of a building, A leap followed by sending a baseball bat into a head of a nearby ghoul.  Standing up, I head towards the intersection, gun raised.  The man, built like a truck just stares at me, oblivious to the ghoul behind him.  Raising  my gun I nod my head, then pull the trigger.  The man stood there, eyes fixed on mine, a thud sounding behind him.  Turning around he sees the ghoul, a clean bullet hole just above its right eyebrow.  Lowering my gun I start to head towards him.  "I would have warned you, but it was getting too close for my comfort."  Extending my hand out I introduce myself.  "Names Chris.  You from around here?"
       Ignoring my extended hand, he opts to grab me and give me a hug that nearly popped my eyes out.  "Names Brock, and man its good to see another living person!"  letting me go, I feel the blood rush back to my head.  Taking a moment to let my vision return, I ask Brock about the town.  "Hey, do you know much about this town?  I'm looking to find a boat."  Looking at me he points out a flaw that I had never thought about.  "You don't look like the kind that knows how to pilot a boat."  Chuckling as he picks up his bat he continues talking as he heads down  the street.  "You coming with?"  A glance back at me, and he continues down the road.  Unable to say anything, I follow him down the street.  Jogging to catch up I make it a few feet behind him before a large, muscled hand shot out.  His hand easily was as large as my face, keeping me from going any further.  "Shh, let me take these two."  Brock silently walks up to the ghoul blindly shuffling away from him.  One solid swing, followed by a loud crack, and the ghoul falls to the ground.  Dropping the bat, he pulls out a glove, and waits for the nearby ghoul to plod towards its demise.  If it wasn't for the fact that it would devour us without second notice, I would almost feel bad for it.  But I don't.  Fast as lightning, Brock's fist shoots forward, Sending the ghoul flying backwards.  Caving in its skull, it was dead before it hit the ground.  Turning around he sees my jaw has dropped.  Recomposing myself, I look at him and can only say one thing.  "Remind me to not piss you off."  All he could do was chuckle, shaking off the gore from what I now see was a metal plated work glove.  I pick up Brock's bat and ask him where we are going.  Taking his bat, he points to to a warehouse on the end of the street.  Following Brock, we make our way towards the large building.

Thursday, January 20, 2011


       I awake to the sound of rain gently falling on the roof above me.  As I slowly come to, I listen below me for any sounds of shuffling.  Hearing nothing, my curiosity gets the best of me.  Poking my head from the attic I see nothing shambling in the hallway below me.   I cover the entrance back up and gather all of my equipment.    As I head back to the exit I hear something on one of the lower floors shatter.  "sounds like company" I think out loud.  Its the first time I say anything in almost a day, my voice sounding different than I last remember.  It used to be more lively, now robotic.  Opening the hatch for the last time, I drop to the floor below, a loud thud announcing my presence to my guests below.  Handgun drawn, I sneak down the hallway, towards the stairs.  The layout of the house was remarkably similar to my old house, so for the most part I felt safe.  So safe in fact, I think about making a permanent home in the attic, but I have come too far to quit now.  A whimper below broke my train of thought, "The dead don't whimper, somebody is down there..."  My toneless voice hid the bit of hope I had of finding a fellow survivor, another human.  Standing at the top of the stairs I call out, not wanting to surprise a panicked person.  "Hey, is anyone down there?"   No response, but no moan. There was something down there, again I call out to the source of the noise.  "I'm coming down there, its okay..."  Okay was the worst word used to describe this situation thinking about it as I came down the stairs.
     The floor below was pitch black, reaching for my flashlight, I use one hand to train the beam of light on the landing, my other hand aiming the handgun towards the center of the beam.  Coming to the landing, I sweep both sides of the hall.  The light falls on the corpse of one of the undead, a heavy looking vase had been smashed over its head, "That would be the smashing sound I heard earlier."  Another whimper, coming from the door at the end of the hallway, "Hello?  Are you alright?"  Even now my voice is still flat, no joy, just another encounter in a series of dark and depressing events.  I knock on the door, the whimper grows to sobbing, whoever it was, they were scared for their life, opening the door I call out.  "Its alright, I'm not one of them, its safe."  The bedroom seemed empty at first glance, but the sound was coming from the other side of the bed.  To avoid scaring the person further, I slowly make my way to the other side of the bed, "Are you alright?"  Seeing the child made my heart drop.  No more than ten, he was all alone.  And by the looks of it, he had been alone for some time.  Quickly I put my gun away to extend my hand towards him.  Too petrified to move, he just stares at my hand.  "Poor kid, you must be terrified, here take this."  Reaching in my bag, I pull out a bottle of water and hand it to him.  "Its okay, take it.  You look thirsty."  It takes the boy a few minutes, but slowly he reaches for the water, but quickly chugs the bottle.  The child's eyes are wild, darting towards the doors and window, ready to flee at a moments notice.  I sit there with a million questions for him, but cant speak at all.  So many people have died, and here this child is, perfectly fine minus possible malnutrition.   Nothing is said for what seems like hours, all I could do is watch.  Suddenly several fists came crashing down on the front door, the child jumps back to the wall.  "Hey, we need to be quiet, come with me.  I can get you out of here!"  Whispering to keep as silent as possible, although there was no point.  they knew we were here.  Finally the child speaks, "They're back!"  Too fast for me, I try to grab his arm, but I miss.  Out the door and down the hall before I could get up.  "Well, I know how he stayed alive for so long."  Getting up, I hear the the hinges breaking on the front door, they would be in the house any minute.  Time to get out of here.  Making my way to the hallway the door caves in.  Several undead falling on top of the door was my cue to get the fuck out of there.  Running to the opposite side of the hall, I crash into the unopened door the child had fled through.  Garage!  The walls were covered in tools, many of which would be handy.  Behind me I can hear the undead falling down the stairs, and in an instant I snatch the handle for the door and slam it shut.  If I'm gonna get out of here, it needs to be fast.
        Running out of time, I drop to my knees, searching the undercarriage of the only car in the room.  Nothing, panicking, I can hear those things starting to beat on the door.  Looking in the car, I see the keys sitting in the ignition, but the door is locked.  The door behind me starts to splinter, a rotting hand bursts through the door.  Taking a hint from my pursuers, I take my handgun and smash the drivers side of the door. Tossing my bag in the passengers seat, I start the car, thanking whatever Deity I thought was watching over me.  Starting the engine right as the door finally fell in two, reverse full speed through the garage door.  As I speed out of the neighborhood, I cant help but think about the child I am leaving behind.  "Some people just don't want to be saved..."

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Forlorn journey

      I creep into the clothing store situated on the end of the strip mall.  The crunching of broken glass under my feet echoes in the building.  Shotgun aimed ahead of me, I step into the shadows and look for anything useful that was within  reach of the sunlight from the outside.  Luckily for me the men's section was near the shattered display windows, so I headed for the slightly lit area with the men's jeans and jackets.  Making my way out with several extra changes of clothes I stuff them into my already full backpack.  Looking around I see several of the undead slouching in the parking lots, blindly bumping into the cars that littered the parking lot.  I crouch down and try to rearrange my bag to hold my recent findings when suddenly there was a noise of powdered glass being drug across the concrete.  Turning around, gun in hand I see a crawler slowly dragging its mangled body towards me.  Its mouth opens, but no sound is made.  Its throat had been torn out, leaving the ghoul mute. Close call, I think as I send the stock crashing into its decaying skull.  The wet thud of its head caving between my gun and the solid ground is barely heard, I scrape the bits of gore off my gun as I look around the next place to raid.  Seeing a hardware store, I head towards the double doors.
     The hardware store had seen its fair share of looting, the floor was covered in loose nails and washers.  the sound of metal skidding across the tile echoes loudly in the building.  I crouch down and hope I am alone in here.  Looking at the check lane I see something I thought would have been stolen right away.  I see several sets of batteries partially hidden by gum and other last minute items you would see while waiting in line.  Scooping up the batteries, I'm sure they could come in useful in the future.  Taking my time I head down each of the aisles, the skylights in the store providing plenty of light so long as the sun was up.  After walking up and down every aisle in the store I find a flashlight.  Using the batteries I had found at first I put them in the flashlight, making a more thorough sweep of the store, this time unearthing a crowbar from under one of the shelves.  Feeling rather accomplished I leave the store, heading back into the parking lot but I stop dead in my tracks.  The sound of a familiar diesel engine, was roaring and getting louder.  Running to the car I crouch, peeking over the trunk.   I see the bus about a quarter of a mile ahead, continuing down the main road it had stopped on to let me out.  I couldn't help but laugh, I mean I did plan on leaving them and continuing on my own.  But I never expected THEM to leave me.  I wanted to chase after them, but this made my decision much easier.  Instead I head in the opposite direction, towards what looked to be a subdivision.
         After searching for what seemed to be hours looking for the right house to stay in for the night, I find a rather abandoned looking two story house towards the edge of the neighborhood.  Breaking in through a basement window, I sweep each room for undead with the aid of my new flashlight.  After clearing the house, I head straight for the attic.  Its a bit stuffy, but its the safest part of the house.  Safe to let my guard down, safe to sleep.  slowly, I begin to drift off, sleep so appealing in such a safe haven.  My last thoughts are of the bus that had left me and made my decision much easier.  What had they been thinking in the moments before they drove off?  Do they feel guilty for leaving me?  My thoughts were interrupted by a crash below, a window had imploded.  Meaning I had been spotted.  My safe haven had been intruded and now sleep was the last thing I would get.  Silently I sit in the attic, hoping they lose interest in whatever they had seen and wander back out.  I could use the sleep.

Monday, January 3, 2011


        Making it to the roof, I take a look at the town below me, abandoned like all the others.  Looking around for a way down, I find two choices.  The fire exit I used to get up here is choked with undead, along with the alleyway below.  The only other way down was through the exit on the roof.  Headed to the roof, I prepare for the worst.  Shotgun in one hand, I reach for the doorknob.  I hesitate, prepare for what could be a hive festering with the undead.  Twisting the knob, the door gives way, the smell of decay escapes the door frame.  Taking a deep breath, I step inside the building.  The smell of decay seems to have soaked into the cement walls, quietly descending the stairs I come to the first landing.  The latch was unlocked, but something was pressed against the door on the other side, leaving the door jammed shut.  Looking back to the roof, I think about just staying there for the night, but I have to keep moving.  Several flights down I hear several thuds, along with the bleak moans of the walking dead.  Peering down one floor, I see the door to the stairwell is open, leaving several undead in the stairwell below me.  Pulling my shotgun from my back, I take a second to plan this descent out.  I'm going to need to close the door, and I'm going to have to keep moving.  Just one blast will be enough to alert the whole damn building to my presence.  Taking another deep breath I prepare myself for the assault.
             Mentally preparing myself for the run, I'm stopped by the hiss of one of the ghouls below.  Ive been spotted, no more time to prepare.  Gliding down the stairs, shotgun trained at the head of the ghoul, I make it about three steps in front of it before I pull the trigger.  A red explosion of decayed gore follows the roar of the spent shell, every ghoul in earshot is aware of my presence.  Aim and squeeze, aim and squeeze.  I take down the other two mindlessly plodding towards me before checking the hallway.  A swarm of them at the end of the hallway, but they wont be a threat.  Slamming the door shut, I press against it to make sure it latched shut.  Once securely in place, I jogged down the stairs, sound no longer an issue.  The shadows at the bottom of the stairwell were going to be an issue, seems this place has been without power for a while now.  Hearing no moans coming from the ground floor I cautiously make my way to the bottom, eyes adjusting to the shadows to check for any threats.  Seeing the stairwell was clear of undead, I check the glass door to my right, the lobby.  And that was not the way to go.  There must of been a hundred of those things in there, each in varying states of decay.  All mindlessly bumping into each other, unaware of each others existence.  Turning around I see a fire escape, wondering if the alarm was still functioning as I headed towards the steel door.  I put my ear up to the door, silence is all I hear from the other side.  I put my hand on the door, ready to push and run as fast as I can.  Hoping there was nothing on the other side.
                 Opting to keep both hands on the shotgun, I kick the door as hard as I can, the door swinging wide.  Aiming in front of me I see nothing stumbling around me, but I can hear the horde from the lobby stirring.  My rather dramatic exit had caught their attention.  I slam the door shut and I look around.  Seeing a dumpster near the door, I slide it in front of the door, trapping those rotting corpses inside the hotel.  Feeling secure in the dumpster wedged against the door, I walk away from the door, the sound of so many fists slamming into the door slowly fading the further away I got from the door.  Heading down the street, I come to a strip mall.  The stores were all looted, but it wouldn't hurt to check it out, who knows what I could find here.  Walking across the parking lot, I'm greeted by a lonely walker coming out of the closest store.  Plodding slowly, arms outstretched, I switch to my machete.  Letting the ghoul come to me, I waited until it was within reach.  Slicing clean through his neck, it dropped to the ground, head toppling after.  Looking towards the buildings I wonder how many of them are in there.  Taking another deep breath of decay filled air, I head into the nearest building, a clothing store.