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, February 21, 2011

The home threat

        Surrounded on three sides, If we fall, the warehouse gets overrun.  There are maybe forty of them lurching towards us, with icy bone fingers outstretched.  "Alright, how are we going to do this?"  Brock readies his bat as the closest one drunkenly stumbles towards him.  With a solid crack, the bat connects with the undead mans face, sending him to the ground before Brock can readjust for the next kill.  "Kind of like that, but about forty times over."  I end the statement with a nervous chuckle.  I'm not sure we can do this myself, but I have an escape plan.  I can run through the crowd if things get nasty, come back for my equipment in a few days if I need to.  Please let this go well, I don't want to abandon them like this...  The moans are beginning to get to me, their dumb howls of hunger melding together, the most unholy sound I had ever heard.  Unnerved, I ready my machete and calmly head to my first target.  An elderly woman in tatters, its skin was grey and patches of what looked like mold were cropping up all over its body.  Her one good eye was locked on me, while the other one dangled by what was left of the stem,  jerking side to side with each step.  With one clean slice, I send the old woman to the ground for good.  Looking up from my recent kill I see more of the creatures boxing me in, All in various states of decay, all of them staggering towards me and ready to tear me apart.
         The undead seem to never end, Each slice becoming less precise and merely knocking them down.    My arm is getting tired, and the fight is far from finished.  I take a moment to check on Brock and Eddie, who are keeping up  with the stream of rotten flesh slowly stumbling their way.  No time to play babysitter, tend to your own "flock".....  Turning around I am greeted with a bony, long decayed hand mere feet from my face.  Unable to swing, I plant my foot on its ribcage and send it flying into several other undead behind it.  "Its starting to thin out on our side, how are you doing?"  Brock yells as he heads to one of the last ones on his end of the street.    Taking a moment to examine my end, I see this is far from over.  "We got a situation!"  I can see our fight and the moans had called more from the other end of town.  This is going to get messy, and the sun is sinking fast.  "Brock, Eddie, we cant keep this up!  We have to get them away from the warehouse!"  I just may have to run, but not just  yet.  My head is throbbing, but I cant leave, not without my supplies.  Slicing through arms and torsos, just trying to keep them from sinking their cold, broken teeth into my skin was all I could concentrate on.  For the first time in a long time, I didn't think, I was like an animal.  Running on raw animal instincts, no anger, no sadness in taking lives, just pure fear.  Fear of becoming another walking corpse, another problem to a living person.  Slowing down, I regain some of my senses.  I see the pile of writhing corpses at my feet, unable to get up, but still moving.  "We have a few minutes before the next group gets here.  Smash the skulls and get ready for the most dangerous brisk walk of your life."  It sounded funnier in my head, but nothing could be further from the truth.
         Brock and Eddie sift through the corpses sprawled out on the ground with their weapons, smashing any skull they see before turning back to me.  "Do we meet them halfway then distract them?"  Eddie pats his hammer on the concrete, trying to get the skull fragments and other bits of gore off the head of the hammer.  Before I could answer him, Lucy exits the warehouse, with a bag in hand.  "Sorry I took so long, but I think I got everything."  She throws the bag over the fence, landing a few feet in front of me.  "You're the best, now get in there and keep them quiet.  We will be back in a while."   Taking a moment to pull out my handgun, still in its holster, out of the bag and adjust it on my leg, I look to Brock and Eddie.  "Its going to get pretty dangerous, I don't like the idea of wandering the streets at night, you sure you don't want to stay with everyone else?"  Looking back down, I see Lucy took the time to strap my shotgun to one of the arms on my bag, which took me a minute to unhook.  As I loaded the first few shells in the barrel, Brock takes the gun from me.  "Like I'm gonna leave your weak ass out here alone.  Plus, this gun looks too big for you anyways."  Smiling as he aims towards the crowd, his sight turns to the two of us.  "Now come on, we cant dawdle around here all night.  I want to get back home before sunrise."

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