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Survival

A Zombie Short Story

By Jennifer TerryPublished 3 years ago 30 min read
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Survival
Photo by Miha Rekar on Unsplash

The city was dark and deserted. Buildings lay in ruin, cars tossed around like a child’s play set. The moon shone on half formed buildings, their silhouettes stretching across the barren landscape like clawing fingers. Bodies, some whole and others partially decayed, littered the streets, the blood and stench rising and hovering over the city in a cloud.

A small, dark figure was running through the streets, melting from shadow to shadow. A hood covered his eyes and a cloth was tied over his face, keeping the worst of the smell out, leaving only two shining eyes peering out from the gloom. His legs were clothed with dark pants, knives strapped on his thighs and calves. He wore a dark shirt with a heavy coat over top. A rifle was slung over his shoulders, pistols to his hips. His feet, shod in large, thick combat boots, made little sound as he skittered across the city.

His eyes darted from side to side, taking in everything. There were no crows to feast upon the dead today. There hasn’t been any sign of life for a few weeks now. No humans, no birds, no animals. It was a ghost town. He was a survivor. One of the few. One of the only.

It was what everyone had feared. The zombie apocalypse. The zombie virus that soon swept the world, leaving its people to fend for themselves. They weren’t strong, not even particularly quick, but there were always so many of them. One against a thousand. One whole, healthy, armed man against a thousand rotting corpses.

It started somewhere small, an unnamed lab in Kentucky. The scientists were working on a formula that would raise the dead. They had hoped it would bring them back whole and healthy. Murder victims could be avenged, young children could get another chance at life. It didn’t go to plan. This lab in Kentucky created this formula, this virus, something that reanimated the dead. Instead of bringing them back in perfect condition, the virus brought back the dead as flesh eating monsters. It was never supposed to get out, it was supposed to stay in this little lab, but one woman was infected, and she left, carrying the virus with her. The virus killed her, reanimated her, and the apocalypse began.

There was nothing that the government could do, and they’ve been trying so hard to fix it. Talk of how to fight the zombies, how to stop the virus, circled around the debate chambers all across the world until the virus took them all one by one. Still, it wasn’t entirely useless. There was information on how to survive the apocalypse, hints and tools that were circulated so that the human race could still survive.

The man grunted as he slammed his shoulder against a door, breaking into a building. He looked around as he slowly crept forward. He had learned long ago that when you let your guard down, you were killed. He heard the click of a gun and turned to the sound, his magnum in hand. From the shadows, the muzzle of a shotgun hit the moonlight, followed by the man holding it.

“Clean?”

“Yes, you?”

“Aye.”

They both lowered their weapons and looked at each other. The man with the shotgun had vivid red hair that stuck out all over the place. His green eyes were bright and clear on his dirt-covered face. He wore flannel and plaid and stood in hiker boots.

“Name’s Tom, you?” the redhead introduced himself.

“Alex.”

“What brings you here?” Tom stepped closer, slowly and hesitantly. “Ain’t no one been here since that infection started around.”

Alex noted the slight southern drawl and flung his hood back.

“The city I was living in was overrun. I came for safety,” the lies came smoothly to Alex.

“Boy, did you come to the wrong spot for that,” Tom shook his head. “Come on back, let me introduce you to the crew.”

Alex shoved his magnum back into his holster and followed Tom through the building. It was large with dozens of aisles of empty shelves. Shopping carts were scattered around, motionless in pools of blood. There were no lights, but after a few months of living in the night, Alex was adjusted to the darkness.

“The good thing about a supermarket is that you don’t run out of supplies,” Tom said. “But this one ain’t got much left. Maria reckons we’ve gotta move on soon.”

Alex nodded, mumbling some noise of understanding as Tom led him through the back. The back was cleaner than the front. It was all steel and concrete with cardboard boxes stacked near forklifts, very few bloodstains here. They came to a large door, strong wood with steel hinges. Tom knocked three times. They waited, then the door opened and Alex found himself in a warm room.

A small, portable heater was in the corner, the source of the heat. Candles were scattered around the room, lighting it with a small warm glow. Cupboards lined the walls. Five people were sitting at a table in the center, pouring over a map, all of them armed to the teeth. There were doors leading from this room, and a few other survivors poked their heads out.

“Maria, I brought someone,” Tom said, sitting at an empty spot. “Get him some food.”

A woman stood from the table and went to one of the many cupboards that lined the walls, took out a can of ravioli, opened it, got a plastic fork and brought it to Alex. He nodded his thanks as she sat back down.

“And who are you?” she demanded.

“I’m Alex,” he said around the food in his mouth.

“Ah, right, introductions,” Tom said.

He pointed to each one in turn. All in all, they had about a dozen survivors. Men, women, children. Alex nodded to each. When the introductions were done, they went back to the others rooms, leaving Tom and Alex alone.

“We’re going to destroy the nest,” Tom said.

“Nest?” Alex questioned.

“Yup,” Tom brought Alex to the table and pointed to a red dot on the map. “The zombies have a nest here, at this hotel. We’re gonna destroy it. Gonna burn it to the ground.”

“Good luck,” Alex said as he placed his half-empty can on the table. He leaned forward, looking at the map with interest. Ohio. At least he knew where he was now.

“Could use your help,” Tom said.

“You ain’t getting it,” Alex mimicked Tom’s accent.

“You ain’t got a lick of sense, boy.”

“You’re the one talking nonsense,” Alex responded. “I’m not here to change this world. I’m here to kill any zombies that get in my way.”

“You said you came for safety,” Tom accused

“I came because I killed all the zombies where I was,” Alex admitted. “I’ve killed zombies everywhere I went, not moving on until the city was clean.”

“Then why won’t you help? This is gonna wipe out all the zombies here.”

“You’re doing it in the name of revolution,” Alex said. “Do you really think that after this humanity can just go back to normal? That we can just go on with our lives like nothing happened?”

“Don’t know until we try.”

“We can’t,” Alex growled, pushing away from the table and pacing the floor. “We can’t fix the world. It’s broken. For good this time. All we can hope to do is kill as many of those monsters before we die.”

“You think we should give up?” Tom said.

“No.” Alex said. “We should fight as hard as we can, but we should not go on a suicide run. We should wait for them to come to us, take them out, one by one.”

“We can’t live like this forever!” Tom slammed his hands on the table. “I have a wife and daughter. Don’t you know what that’s like? All I want is to give them a safe place to live! Can’t you understand that?”

“More than you know,” Alex said softly.

~

When the first news hit of the zombie apocalypse, Alex didn’t believe it. Hell, no one believed it. It was all science fiction, all make believe, all in the realm of Sophia. She was the one who believed it. She used to tell Alex stories of zombie attacks, tell him about her plans for the apocalypse, her survival strategy. It was part of the reason he fell in love with her. She saw the world through fiction and fantasy.

“We’ll get a bunker,” she said, leaning backwards in her recliner, her feet resting on the soft green carpet. “Fill it with guns and food.”

Alex shrugged from his spot on the floor, eyes focused on his video game, “Sure.”

“We will!” Sophia insisted, leaning forward so her hands could reach his shoulders. “It’ll be in Alaska or something. Somewhere cold where the zombies can’t get us.”

“Anywhere you want,” he grinned, pressing a series of buttons on the controller.

She planted a large kiss on his cheek and continued on her plans for the zombie attack. He humored her, went along wither her plans, and kept her firmly rooted in reality.

It was her strategies that he used now.

~

“When are you planning on attacking?” Alex asked, picking up his can of ravioli and finishing it off.

“Next few days,” Tom said. “Even if you’re not comin’ with us, you’re welcome to stay here ‘til you wanna move on.”

“Thanks,” Alex set the empty can on the table.

“We gotta stick together,” Tom said, putting his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Even if we disagree. Come on, you’ll be bunking with John.”

Alex followed Tom. The doors led to a larger room, filled with blankets and mattresses. Candles lined the walls, creating a dim light. A few smaller rooms branched off the main one. Most of them were filled with boxes, more supplies. In the back corner was a young man, blond. He was cleaning a weapon as he sat on a flat mattress. He glanced up from his gun when they approached.

“Hey boss,” he smiled. “Need something?”

“John, this here is Alex. He’s gonna stay with us for a bit,” Tom said. “Show him around, keep him company.”

John nodded seriously and stood up, holding his hand out to Alex. Alex, amusement flickering in his eyes, took it.

“You gonna help us with the nest then?” John asked, sitting down on the mattress as he picked up his gun. “Tom’s been trying to get as much help as he could.”

“No,” Alex sat down on the floor.

“Alright,” John didn’t press the issue.

Alex sat in silence, watching as John oiled the parts of his weapon. He put it back together easily. He’d been doing this for a while but he wasn’t trained. His hand occasionally slipped on the parts and he paused, as if trying to remember what to do next.

“So how did you get here?” John asked, putting his now clean gun aside. “I mean, everyone’s got their story. I was visiting my parents when it happened. Worried about graduation, of all things. Barely managed to escape. Don’t know what happened to them. But Tom found me. Him and Abigail, his daughter, brought me with them here. So what’s your story?”

“Sorry kid,” Alex said. “I don’t have one.”

“Come off it, man,” John leaned forward. “You don’t survive this long without a story.”

~

Sophia taught him all about zombies. When word first hit their small town about the zombie virus, her eyes lit up, it was like Christmas for her. Everything that she had dreamed and believed was coming true right before her eyes. She dragged Alex along and made sure they had everything they would possibly need. They bought guns and knives, nonperishable food, better clothes. They learned how to shoot and stab, how to hot-wire a car, how to make explosives. Even when there were zombies at the door, Sophia never panicked.

It was Halloween. The house was boarded up, thick planks of wood nailed across the door and windows. The only light was from the few lamps they had scattered throughout the rooms. Emergency escape bags were near the closet, stocked with guns.

Only a few of their friends had survived. Friends from childhood, from weddings, from college. Things were going well. They had instant apple cider, a few bits of candy corn, and a can of beans each. They weren’t worried. They had survived four days in this house, keeping the zombies at bay. Sophia was convinced that they could outlast the zombies as long as they stayed in their house. After all, that’s what all her comics told her to do. As long as they were quiet and kept the lights low, they were safe. After four days, the zombies had to have left, and it was Halloween, why not celebrate?

“They’re coming,” someone said, looking out the window. “They’re a ways off, but coming fast. I guess five minutes, tops.”

“Let’s get ready for them,” Sophia said, her blond hair tied up in a ponytail.

Without hesitation, she gave orders. The festive spirit evaporated and Alex gathered up the cups, cans, and spoons, tossing them in the sink, peering through a gap in the windows. The zombies were coming. It was the biggest horde he had ever seen. Price of celebration.

“They’re close! Three minutes before they’re knocking.”

“Shotgun!” Sophia turned to Alex.

He nodded and ran upstairs. He threw open the door to their bedroom and reached under the bed for the shotgun. He pulled it out, grabbing his own guns from the dresser and slid down the banister. Alex tossed the gun to his wife and she caught it easily, loading it and standing at the door.

“Estimate how many?”

“Few hundred,” they backed away from the door. “More than we’ve seen before.”

“We can do it.”

They waited. The waiting was the hard part. Wondering when the zombies would get to the door and if you would be ready for them. To sit and hear the horde outside your door, moaning and growling, the sound of their soft flesh scratching at the walls.

The first slam on the door caused them all to jump. Sophia gasped, her grip tightening.

“Wait for it,” she said. “Wait.”

They stood there, still as stone, waiting for Sophia. When the zombies had broken most of the door, enough that they could shove an arm through, the rotting flesh catching on the wood, they still didn’t move.

“Sophia,” Alex muttered. “Honey, we’re running out of time.”

The door burst open and zombies began flooding the house.

“Now!”

~

John was still looking at Alex expectantly. Hoping for a heroic story about how Alex survived. His eyes were lit up like Sophia’s.

“I don’t have one,” Alex said again. “Not one worth telling.”

John sighed loudly and fell backwards onto his mattress. “Alright. Dawn’s coming if you wanna sleep.”

Alex nodded silently and leaned up against the wall. He took out his weapons and looked them over. His two magnums were in good condition, probably enough ammo for another week. His rifle, an AR-15, had mud on it. He knew he should have gone with the AK-47. Less accurate but more reliable. He painstakingly took his rifle apart and cleaned it. It was his best weapon and he couldn’t have it in bad shape. Alex unstrapped the knives from his legs, wiping the last remnants of blood from them.

Idly, he flipped the knife in his hand, curving into a neat arc and landing back into his hand. Knives were his last resort weapon. Zombies could only be killed by a quick hit to the head. Destroy the brain. Bullets, knives, bats, Alex once saw a man take an ax to a zombie’s head. Whatever weapon you had, aim for the head. Break the skull, destroy the brain and kill the zombie. That was Rule 2 in surviving. Aim for the head. Rule 1 was simple.

Run.

~

Alex wasn’t sure what to do when their house was overrun. He remembered watching his friends fall down, zombies tearing at their bodies. He remembered the screams of pain as they had their chest torn open. He remembered the blood. He and Sophia made it out, barely. They grabbed the emergency bags and ran for the jeep hidden in the back. They tossed what they had in the back on top of a dozen containers of gas. Sophia was at the wheel and they drove off.

It was a quiet drive across the countryside, neither wanted to talk about what just happened. The blood on their clothes dried and scratched at their skin. They finally had to stop at a gas station, refill the car and their containers, and scavenge the store for some more food. Alex could still hear the screams in his head.

Sophia returned to the jeep with her arms filled with chips and cookies, a couple of liters of soda, and a box of water bottles. She had tried to wash off the worse of the blood in the bathroom sink but her skin was still tinged with red. Alex put the last of the gas containers in the back and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Now what?” he asked quietly.

“We go on,” Sophia said. “It’s all we can do.”

“Where to we go?”

“North.”

“Sophia...” he started. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was,” she said. “I was wrong. Everything I know is wrong. I thought this would be so easy and it’s not Alex. This is horrible.”

“You did your best.”

“Just drive,” she said, turning to the window. “Get us out of here.”

~

Alex slept the entire day. When he woke, the sun was just starting to set, filling the sky with orange and reds. The survivors were moving in and out the doors, scavenging the city for goods. A woman gave Alex a box of crackers and a water bottle. He nodded gratefully and inhaled the food. John noticed Alex was awake and was at his side instantly.

“The boss wants to talk to you,” John said. “He’s in the front room now.”

Alex nodded, picked up a handgun and went to the front room. Tom and two women were there, looking at the map and marking points on it with a red sharpie. Tom looked up when he heard Alex walk in.

“Alex!” Tom said. “This is my wife, Maria, and our daughter, Abigail.”

Maria stood almost as tall as Tom, her dark hair cropped short and her brown eyes hard. Abigail had her father’s red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose. He nodded his greeting and they nodded back, Abigail giving a shy smile.

“John said you wanted to speak with me,” Alex said.

“Yeah,” Tom pulled him over. “From what I guess you’ve been on the run for a while and you must’ve learned somethin’ about these monsters. So take a look at our plan and tell me if it’s gonna work.”

Maria stepped forward, pointing at the map. “We’ve got fourteen survivors. Three children, which leaves us eleven good fighters, twelve if you come. We would take eight to the front, draw out the zombies, keep them distracted. The others would go inside and attach these bombs-” Abigail pulled out some homemade explosives “-to the inside. Then we wait until dawn when the zombies crawl back inside and blow the entire place back to hell.”

“So what do you think?” Tom asked. “Think we stand a chance?”

“We’ve never stood a chance,” Alex said, looking at each of them in turn. “But if you’re determined to go after this nest, I don’t see a better option. When are you doing this?”

“Tomorrow night,” Tom said. “Could still use your help?”

“No chance,” Alex shook his head.

“Ah, worth a try,” Tom shrugged. “Still welcome to stay though.”

“Thanks but I should be going.”

“Nah, stay a while,” Tom insisted. “If ya think we’re all gonna die tomorrow, at least give us a good last night.”

“Yes, please stay,” Abigail spoke up for the first time. “You can tell us about how you came here. Everyone loves hearing a new story. It’s all we’ve got now.”

“I’ll stay one more day,” Alex said. “Tomorrow I’m leaving.”

Rule 4. Don’t get attached. With Abigail’s smile, Alex knew he’d broken that rule.

~

Sophia and Alex drove for over a week, taking turns so the other could sleep. When they ran out of gas, they walked, hoping to find another car, hoping to find a gas station that was still functioning. By now most of the gas was gone. Cars became an obstacle, something to fight through, not something to save you.

They found a small band of survivors. Half a dozen, if that. They were holed up in an abandoned ranch house. It was wide, open, with plenty of room to escape. They stayed with them. Occasionally they would go to the city for supplies, but they mostly kept to the ranch. It was safe, comfortable. Perhaps they could wait out the zombies.

A week after they arrived, Alex took a couple of men and went to the city for some medicine. One of the kids had a bad cold and they were out. It was a hot afternoon and they rode horses. The city was abandoned, doors and windows shattered, boxes filling the streets. The pharmacy shelves were stripped, but Alex found a small box of cold medicine. He turned to tell the others and was faced with zombies.

He wanted to shoot them. One bullet straight through the brain. He couldn’t risk a gunshot. The sound might bring more. He pulled out a kitchen knife instead. Running out he jumped on his horse and rode back for the ranch. Turning around he saw a small horde chasing after him. Zombies rarely came out in broad daylight, but that was no excuse for recklessness.

“They’re here!” he ran up to the door. “We’ve got to leave. Zombies are coming!”

They ran as fast as they could for their weapons. Shotguns, rifles, pistols. But by the time the horde reached them, it had increased.

“I thought zombies couldn’t run in the sunlight!”

“They can, they’re just slower!” Sophia shouted.

The horde advanced slowly. Their dead bodies decaying in the hot sunlight. The survivors rained bullets on the zombies. The horde attacked for almost an entire hour and they were running low on ammo. Alex dropped his guns, pulling out his knife again, and began to slice into the zombie heads.

Covered in blood, taking deep breaths, he looked around. Zombies littered the ground. Sophia was standing a few yards away, her hands tight around a baseball bat. Around her were the dead bodies of the people they were staying with.

“Couldn’t save them either,” Sophia dropped her bat. “We should go.”

“At least we’re alive,” Alex took her into his arms.

“We need to stop meeting up with people,” Sophia said. “All we do is get them killed.”

“If that’s what you want,” Alex said.

~

Alex spent that night with the group sitting around him. The adults were retelling their stories. Tom told the story of how he kept his family alive, hunting small animals, moving from place to place, siphoning gas from cars. Maria often slapped him and retold it from her point of view. Abigail stood by John, her face crimson.

The three kids, twin girls and a young boy, enjoyed every minute. They had heard these stories at least a dozen times, but they never got old. Silent, Tom turned to Alex. The kids looked up at him with wide-open eyes, wanting to hear his story. Something heroic. Something from a movie. He told them about how he and his wife survived. He told them about how they saved so many people. He told them stories. The ones they wanted to hear.

“Where’s your wife now?” the little boy asked, “Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gone,” Alex said.

“Would she wanna kill the nest?”

“Yeah, I suppose she would.”

“So would you help us if she was here?”

Abigail picked up the little boy, “Hush, he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Alex said. “He’s right. Sophia would want that.”

“So are you gonna help?” one of the girls asked.

“No,” Alex said gently. “She’s not here. Things change after all.”

“How?” the girl pushed.

Alex stood up and left the main room. Abigail was scolding the children. He grabbed his rifle and went out the front door and up to the roof. An older man was there, keeping watch. Alex tapped him on the shoulder. Nodding the man went back downstairs. Alex stood still, keeping an eye out for any zombies that came too close to the store.

~

Sophia and Alex slept quietly in an abandoned house. They had rigged warning systems around the house if any zombies tried to sneak in. A string of cans with rocks. If anything touched the string then the cans would rattle. Hopefully enough to wake them.

Alex woke when he heard the rattling. Sophia was already up. A machete was in her hand. There were the sounds of zombies. Moaning and growling as they made their way through the house. Sophia backed up next to Alex, standing on the opposite wall from the door.

“Are you ready?” she asked softly.

“I’m always ready,” he reassured her.

With the sound of breaking wood, the door opened. Dead hands reaching through the gap for them. Sophia quickly jumped in and began cutting them down, blood spraying her. Alex followed her through the door and they stood back to back.

Exhausted and covered in blood, they turned to each other. Sophia smiled and held her arms out. Alex reached for her.

He didn’t see the zombie. He didn’t even see it bite her. He heard Sophia screaming. Blood gushing from the bite on her neck. The zombie wasn’t done yet. It pulled back, swallowing, before leaning down for another bite. Alex swung his knife into its head, kicking it away from his wife.

“Sophia,” he caught her body as it fell, cradling it close to his chest, a hand on her neck, trying to stop the blood. “Look, it’s not that bad. I’ll get you fixed up and you’ll be fine. You hear me? You’re going to be just fine.”

“Alex,” she said, her voice faint.

“Don’t talk,” he shushed her. He tore at his shirt, folding the cloth into a pad and pressing it against her neck. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Promise me,” she gasped, blood oozing from her lips. “Don’t get yourself killed. Remember our rules, okay?”

“I will,” Alex said, his vision blurring with tears. “I promise.”

“Tell me,” she said, the color fading from her lips.

“I won’t get myself killed,” he said. “Rule 1- run. Rule 2- aim for the head. Rule 3- don’t get bit or scratched. Rule 4- don’t get attached.”

Sophia nodded and her eyes slid shut, her breathing shallow. Alex cried her name and shook her. Her eyes fluttered open.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Don’t leave me Sophia. You can’t.”

“I’ve been bit,” she said, her voice growing weaker. “You know what you have to do.”

“I can’t,” Alex rocked back and forth, choking on his own sobs. “You can’t ask me to do that.”

“You have to,” she said. “Don’t let me become one of them.”

“I can’t,” Alex rubbed at his eyes with his bloody hand. “I can’t kill you!”

“You kill me now. Or you kill me as a zombie.”

“I can’t,” he gasped, tears falling fast. “I’m not strong enough. I can’t do this without you!”

“Yes, you can,” Sophia said.

She reached down and pulled out the gun from her waistband, pressing it into Alex’s hand. She pulled his hand up to her head, clicking the safety off.

“Remember,” she said. “Kill every zombie you can. Every chance you get. Kill them all. Stay alive for as long as possible.”

“Sophia...”

“For me,” she said softly.

Leaning forward she whispered something in his ear. He nodded tearfully. Smiling, she closed her eyes and he pulled the trigger.

~

Alex spent the next day wandering the city with Abigail. She knew the layout and could point him to a few cars that were still running. The roads were still mostly blocked, but it was sure as hell a lot faster than walking. She didn’t bring up Sophia. They ran into a few zombies, nothing more than stragglers. Abigail took care of them quickly with her hatchets.

“Sure you’re not gonna help us out with the nest?” she asked, stowing the hatchets into her belt. “After all you’ve been through. We could use you.”

“I’m sure,” Alex fiddled with his wedding ring. “I’ll leave tonight. I wish you and your father the best of luck.”

“Thanks,” she said.

Alex took his weapons and left the little group. He honestly wished them only goodness, hoping they were able to destroy the nest. Instead of going to one of the many cars Abigail pointed out, he found himself going to the office building across the street from the hotel.

From the rooftop, he had a clear view of the hotel. He would be able to watch as Tom and the others rigged explosives. If he wanted, or needed, he could provide them with cover. But even that was only in the direst of circumstances. A gunshot would be heard across the city, bringing all the zombies to him.

The sun passed the horizon and the darkness began to rise. The city, which looked less gruesome in the light, now looked horrific. Something that Sophia would have kept in her shelves of comic books. As Alex watched, the zombies began to pour out of the hotel. A seemingly endless stream of rotting bodies, shuffling out of the doors. Moaning and growling, looking for food.

Looking down on the street, Alex saw Tom leading his group. He and seven others shot their guns, attracting the attention of the zombies. Growling with renewed force the zombies charge, shuffling as fast as they could down the street. In the alleyway behind the hotel, Abigail, John, and another man were sliding into the building. Abigail had a heavy bag on her back, no doubt carrying the explosives. John and the other man kept her covered.

Alex watched with baited breath. Hoping they would be able to succeed. Sophia would want to help them. This was a way to destroy all the zombies in the area. A quick and easy way. He scanned the streets again, finding a few straggling zombies heading back to the hotel. Not a problem. John could take care of them.

Tom and the others were doing great on their side of the street, keeping most of the horde off them. Alex stood and picked off a few that were too close for comfort. Tom looked up at the building, but Alex had moved to keeping an eye on the hotel.

He and Sophia dragged down so many survivors. Getting them killed because of reckless behavior. He wasn’t going to let these people die. Not this time.

Keeping them safe wasn’t easy. Abigail got the explosives rigged and she and John left the hotel. The third man was nowhere in sight. Tom and the others were trapped in a corner, their numbers down from eight to four. Abigail threw in her hatchets, killing three. Alex turned on his rooftop and rained down on the horde.

Seven people against seven hundred. The odds were not looking good. Alex could not leave the rooftop. These people were gone. Lost. John threw himself in front of Abigail. She fell soon after, her flaming red hair buried under dead bodies. Tom shouted and pushed himself harder. Maria cried as he went down.

Alex put down his rifle. They were gone.

Alex yawned as dawn began to creep up, lighting the sky with pinks and oranges. The night had been hard. After the failed plan, Alex hid a corner of the rooftop, closing his eyes for a brief nap.

Alex gathered his weapons, slung his empty rifle over his shoulder, and walked down the stairs. He needed more ammo, more weapons. It was time to loot the bodies of Tom and his hopefuls. Loot them and kill their brain before the virus reanimated them.

He stepped down to the first floor and looked out the door. There, almost waiting for him, were the zombies. A horde of them, clawing at the door with their broken, bloody fingers. Their mouths gaping open as they screamed for his flesh. The door wouldn’t last much longer and Alex didn’t have time to find another way out.

Alex took a deep breath. This was it. This was the end for him. He saw Sophia’s face swimming before his eyes. Not the pale, bloody face he saw last, but clean and clear. Her blond hair straight, surrounding her heart shaped face, her blue eyes light with joy. She gave him that soft, crooked smile and he knew what to do. The last piece of advice she gave.

“Kill yourself if you get bit. Better to die a human than live a monster.”

Crawling, Alex made his way to the dead bodies in the alleyway. Blood was dripping from a bite on his arm. He didn’t know how long it would take for the virus to infect him. He didn’t know how long he had to live. But if he was going, then he was taking the nest with him. He quickly looted the bodies of the raiding team, careful not to look in their faces.

Machete in hand and handgun in the other, he staggered to the hotel. It was nearing noon and the sun was hot on his back. Alex opened the door and the smell of rotting flesh crashed over him. Coughing, he pulled up the handkerchief he had around his neck.

The zombies were expecting him and they charged forward, hands outstretched. Alex took a breath and jumped in. He was tired and hungry. Prone to mistakes. He fumbled his machete, missing the head completely, and the zombie took advantage of that, grabbing his arms and sinking its teeth into the soft, tender flesh of his neck.

Alex fell to the ground, his blood seeping into his clothes. His eyes began to darken, his fingers grew cold, the pain abated. Darkness slowly drifted over his vision, was the sun setting? Was the night finally here? The zombies crowded around him, their hands pulling apart his clothes, sinking their teeth into any part of his body they could find. Alex vaguely felt the blood seeping down his body, the teeth tearing through skin and muscle, the fingers digging through the soft flesh of his body. He had lost so much blood. He was dying. With one final stretch of energy, he lifted his gun, aiming at the ceiling for the explosive. The kick from the shot took the last of his energy. He closed his eyes and let the heat take him.

zombies
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About the Creator

Jennifer Terry

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