The World is Fucked Up

The world is a fucked up place. You remember that incident when the guy ate another guy’s face off and they blamed it on bath salts? If you don’t, that was probably because they mentioned it once before the whole thing just magically disappeared. Turns out it was really the beginning of the zombie uprising. One experiment got out, and, in time, whatever they were concocting in their secret labs couldn’t be contained. I imagine all the rich people probably rushed to their bunkers in the desert or hopped in a spaceship bound for Mars when things got really out of hand and left us poor people to play Walking Dead.

When the wave hit my town, it was actually a relief for me. There were rumors going around that shit was hitting the fan, but the whistle blowers were all labeled as crazy by the mainstream media. I knew it was only a matter of time before the truth hit home, and I was at work when it did. Debbie, the chubby lady with cat claws for nails that worked in the cubicle across from me, came back from lunch looking ill. Determined not to be at ground zero when the zombie apocalypse hit my neck of the woods, I was vigilant for any signs that such an event was coming, so I took the opportunity to clock out for my break. As I reached the stairs the screams began. No doubt, people had approached Debbie to see if she was alright, and she took it as an opportunity to turn the workplace into a buffet. As I pulled out from the parking lot of my job, I saw a body go flying out of a third story window. When what landed got up and began chasing people, I knew it was time to find a new career: survival.

I took the back roads home so as not to get stuck in traffic. When things get bad, everyone tries to leave town using the highway. I had learned of several alternate routes home during my time of dodging five o’ clock traffic. It would be the last time I drove a car since the eventual lack of maneuverability would make the vehicle useless. Most people would have turned on the radio to get updates on what was going on. Perhaps the government would prepare a safe place to go. I laughed inside of my head. Years of exposure to zombie movies taught me that populated areas were deathtraps, and the government NEVER had the answer, unless it was in the form of a nuke. I had my own plan formulated years ago specifically for a time like this and didn’t require updates.

In my basement I kept a backpack with a supply of water and MREs along with a machete, a crossbow, and a foldable electric bike. After acquiring these items, the first order of business would be to escape to a less densely populated area. Being as how I lived in the suburbs rather than a city, the countryside was a relative hop, skip, and a jump away. Approximately, fifteen miles, to be more precise. Once there, I would find an isolated farmhouse to secure for myself. If there were people there, then I would simply “evict” them.

Most people would attempt to find family or friends, but that was also folly. I mentally prepared myself for their deaths by visualizing the demise of all I loved during meditation. Therefore, when it happened in reality, I wouldn’t be crippled by grief. I left my home and my former life without looking back.

The sun was just about to set when I found the perfect home to take over. It had a gate that could eventually be reinforced and was set several hundred feet away from the main road. Two vehicles were in the driveway and light shone from one window, but there were no signs of movement. The front door hung open with only a screen door to keep the insects and anything else that would want entry out. Upon closer inspection, I could here the news on the TV. Maybe the owners were all crowded around the TV in shock and fear for their well-being. Maybe they’d be so engrossed that they wouldn’t notice the guy with the machete walk into the room and start swinging until it was too late. Hopefully there were no kids. I had no issues with chopping down an adult, but kids…would be a mercy kill. Who would want to grow up in a shitty world like this? I would be fucked up if I let a child continue to exist in a state where they may be constantly starving and in fear of undead monsters. Every kill would be a mercy kill.

Death didn’t come by my hand. The fresh corpses of a couple sat together on a couch. On the stand next to them stood a whiskey bottle and box of rat poison. I checked all the rooms to see if there was anyone else, alive or dead, in the house. We three were the only occupants. I knew it was risky, but I considered how fresh the dead woman’s body was. Was she still warm and rigor mortis free? This would probably be my last time to be with a woman. Necrophilia isn’t so bad once you get past the thought. You just think of the body like a sex toy. I’m not personally proud of it, but we live in a new world now.