Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
After putting on the big guys’ jacket, I was moving at a feverish pace throughout the streets in my area. I didn’t care where I was going or how far I was from my safe-house. All I knew was that I needed this, or more so, my mind needed this. I was stuck in that attic all the damn time and honestly I was fed up. Life seemed meaningless at this point. I had no word from any family members, I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen a friend, no television, no radio, my iPod like everything else was dead, and worst of all no women! How am I supposed to live my life as a ridiculously sexy 24 year old male when there are no women around?! It’s just not right. So I lost it and decided I was going hunting.
After about 10 minutes, I came across a real challenge. Seven zombies all with their backs turned to me. They were all walking in unison. It was kind of odd to see really. It seemed as if they had a purpose to their walk; almost like a sense of direction. If ever there was a time to test out this “smell theory”, now was the time. As quietly and as slowly as I could, I crept up to the back of the group. I was about ten feet behind them when I stepped on a tiny stick out in the street. It snapped and the group of zombies froze in place. Shit. This can’t be good. One of them turned slowly around, looked at me for a brief moment, and then turned back around. The group started walking again as if I didn’t exist. It was working! I couldn’t believe it. Somehow, the smell of death that was stuck on these clothes was covering up my own scent. My eyes lit up at the thought of being able to just walk up to these zombies and pick them apart. This was going to be glorious!
The one zombie who had stopped and turned to look at me had fallen a few paces behind the rest of the group. I guess the same rules that apply to normal people also applied to zombies; if you fall behind, you die. I crept slowly up behind this zombie, who still had his mailman uniform on, poor bastard, and jammed my knife right into the side of his head. He dropped to the floor instantly. The group just kept on walking as if nothing happened. I’m sure they heard the noise; there was no possible way they couldn’t hear what just happened. But for some reason, I guess in their “minds”, everything smelled normal so they had no reason to be alarmed. Well, I guess the smell theory seemed to be working pretty well; time to take out the rest of these damn things.
I was hardly as subtle and stealthy with the rest of the group. There were six of them left and I honestly just needed to vent some damn anger. I tucked the hunting knife into my belt and I pulled my bat out. I had it strapped neatly to my back with strip of Velcro, and it fit neatly under the oversized blood covered jacket I had on. I ran up to the next straggler of the group and swung as hard as I could at the back of his head. “How does that feel bitch?!” Probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to scream out, but I had clearly snapped. He dropped to the floor like a ragdoll and the other five zombies turned around. If these things could be confused, they sure as hell had that expression on their chewed up, clawed, bloody and decaying faces. If they could be scared, they would have had that look on their faces in a second as well. I charged straight into the five of them and kicked the one in the middle straight in the stomach. I’m not proud about kicking a woman in the stomach, but let’s face it if you try to eat me you’re going to get hit. She went tumbling back and literally flipped as she rolled across the floor. The two zombies on my sides grabbed my arms, but luckily this jacket was so damn big I slipped right out. I had to drop the bat to get my hand through the sleeves so now I’m in a circle of four zombies and my bat is lying on the floor. I don’t know what the hell I had gotten myself into, but I was finding it harder and harder to care.
I took my hunting knife back out and as I ducked down I stabbed a smaller zombie who was standing in front of me right in the leg. It didn’t do much but I had gotten low enough to pick my bat up again. I swung it wildly and spread the four of them off of me. The woman I kicked had gotten up and was slowly making her way towards me again. I decided no running this time; they were all going down. I ran at her and took one good swing, and knocked her head clean off her shoulders. I turned around and threw my knife at the smaller zombie I had just stabbed in the leg. I hit him right in the head and he dropped like a ton of bricks. Three left. Piece of cake. A few good swings and they were all dispatched of in a bloody pile of mangled corpses. I stood there gazing around at the seven bodies strewn about on the street. I stared at the mess I had created, and I didn’t even care. I wasn’t worried about dying. I wasn’t worried that one of these things might have gotten a lucky bite on me and ended everything. It started to rain and I knew I had to make my way back to the safe-house, because the rain was going to wash the dead smell off of me and expose me. But I wasn’t in any hurry to make it back. I slowly worked my way back to my hideout, and the only thought running through my mind was how good it felt to bash all those things over and over. A warm, soothing feeling came over me. I had just killed seven zombies in a crazy fit of rage, and I was more relaxed than I had been in months. What the hell was happening to me?