Thursday, March 24, 2011

Ahhh! Real Monsters...

The girls ran out as if a fire had been lit under their shoes. I stood perfectly still, feeling partially in awe, and partially vindicated that I had been right all along!

My excitement stemmed from the fact that Patient X was my little side project. Well, the finale of my little side project. Unlike many of the other patients that had been flooding the ER, Patient X was DOA, and not because of any bite or scratch wound. As soon as I saw his chart being handed over to the hospital's mortuary staff, I knew I had found my perfect specimen. I waited three days before following up with the Patient X case. He had yet to be claimed by next-of-kin, or anyone for that matter. May be the reason he killed himself. I pulled some strings and had the body brought up for testing a week later. Recalling the beginning of experiments is almost as good as actually starting them. I felt a rush I can't quite pin-point; it's somewhere between euphoria and dread.

As the lights flickered back on, Patient X and I just stared at each other. I could see the vacancy in his eyes; but a hunger soon took over the look. I opened the door behind me without much further thought, and went into the decontamination room. Without turning on any lights, I reached for a locked box under one of the wash units and fished for the tranquilizer gun I knew was there. Why we had a tranquilizer gun in the OR’s decontamination room was beyond me. I never really questioned it, just assumed it was NYC and sometimes, no matter what the place, things got a bit crazy. As I loaded the tranquilizer into the feed, I began to observe Patient X in the OR. I squealed in excitement at the opportunity!...

He held himself and his posture in a peculiar manner, not what I would normally expect from a wounded living patient. I had removed a portion of his scalp and brain for examination, so there remained a gouged out area in his head. This should have affected the sensory and motor branches of the spinal nerves and muscles. He showed no particular attention to these strains, though. He was fucking fascinating! As he ambled in my direction, I lingered, simply watching him - so gracelessly beautiful. I was done loading the gun, and I should be tranquing him, I know, but I got an idea. Sorry, I couldn't help the need to poke and prod at him a little more. I decided to raise the gun's light attachment and aim it straight at his eyes from behind my glass defense. An animal might have become altered, spooked, or taken a defensive or aggressive posture. A human being would have at least normal pupillary function - with the pupil dilating to allow less light in. But no, not him; he was so very unique. His eyes remained fixed on me, mutual objects of interest. Well, fuckdamnit, I finally had to tranq him. I exited the decontamination room and felt his gaze follow my every move. I slowly made my way into a corner of the room, never losing direct eye contact with him. I'm not sure how, but he seemed to register that I could not back up anymore and took the oppurtunity to lunge toward me. I sidestepped, and sent the tranq straight into his chest, right before he would have made impact. I quickly wheeled in a gurney and positioned him as best I could on his back. I took a quick skin sample and scraping, as his blood was already drained. Then proceeded to do what I knew had to be done. I retrieved the bone saw off the main OR table and began to cut through the spinal column, right at the nape of his neck. I had to go, there was too much to be done. And alright, I'll admit it, it hurt a bit to leave him. He was just so interesting, so special in those few moments I observed him... my little monster.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Goodbye Cookie

One last time, we're let down today. One last time, until we fade away.....

I loved her so much. I love her still. Each day that passes makes me miss her more and drives me closer to insanity. I wait for the day that I meet my match and I can join her in the afterlife. I can't just give up my life so easily though. I promised her I would fight. I promised her I would find out who was responsible. I promised her I would make them pay!

The day that I lost her was the longest, hardest day of my life. We woke up that morning in my bed, both wondering if what we witnessed was just a terrible nightmare. However, the bandages on her back told us that that was just wishful thinking. This was real. It was the end of days. As promised, I ran into the garage and salvaged whatever was left of Joe's tools and wood. Joe was renovating the basement for about a year now, and he had plenty of useful things to work with. I spent hours trying to board up all of the windows and light leaks that could be seen from outside of the house. I didn't want to take a single chance. I'm not a carpenter, nor am I a contractor. But, I did the best I could with the materials that I had. It wasn't perfect, but I got the job done. As long as my baby was safe, I didn't care.

After my attempt at construction, I went to check on Shelah. She wasn't looking so hot. She actually looked kind of feverish. Damn, was this a bad time to get sick. I gave her some Advil and told her to get some rest. Hopefully the drugs would reduce her fever. While she slept, I cooked whatever I could put together. There was dry spinach and arugula along with some raw chicken. I threw some seasoning on the chicken and tossed it in the oven. I put it all together and made a grilled chicken caesar. That was one of our favorite, quick meals.

She was still asleep when I brought up the food. She looked so peaceful aside from being extremely pale. I couldn't help but daydream for a moment. Memories of a better time came to mind. I remembered the days we spent together in Atlantic City, when it was just the two of us. Coming back to the room, after playing poker all day, to see her waiting for a hug and a kiss from her man.
I remember the time that she went out drinking with her friends all night, while I stayed home and slept. She snuck into my house and into my room just because she wanted to be in my arms while she slept. Those were the good days, the great times, the happy life.

I felt her forehead before waking her. Her fever appeared to be gone. But, now her forehead was ice cold. I was worried so I tried to wake her up. I shook and shook until she finally opened her eyes. Her white, lifeless eyes looked right up at me and, immediately, I knew. She was gone. An empty shell of what used to be my everything, my life, my future.
I knew what had to be done but, I couldn't bring myself to just kill her and get it over with. There was so much that I needed to tell her. I had to say goodbye. I tied her to the bed and gagged her so that she couldn't bite. I spoke to whatever was left of her inside that body. And, I'll never forget my final words to her:

"Baby, I'm so sorry that I couldn't protect you. I fought as hard as I could and did my best. My best just wasn't good enough to keep u safe. I'll never forgive myself for that. I hope u can forgive me though. I wont stop fighting now. I promise I'll find the fucks who are responsible for this. I promise that they'll all pay for what happened to you and my mother.

I'm sorry that I couldn't be everything that u deserved me to be for you. I could have been a better man for you. I'm sorry for every moment I missed with you. You were always more important to me than my job, my films, and my games. I'm sorry for every time I hurt your feelings or fought with you. I never told you that you were always right, even when you were wrong. I'm sorry for every single tear that you've ever shed because of me. I wanted to take away all of your pain, not bring you more. Most of all, I'm sorry that I broke my first promise to you. A promise that we would get married and bring the two most amazing children into this world.
I promise that I'll make it all up to you in the afterlife. We can relive all of the amazing moments we shared together and create new ones. I'll be with you soon enough. Goodbye Cookie. Tell my mother that I love her when u see her in Heaven"

Sunday, March 20, 2011

I'm Bored 2/2

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?

Saturday, March 19, 2011

It's Been A Long Day

Cray and I looked down the long corridor. After everything that had taken place in the last 24hours, a dark corridor was the last place we wanted to walk down. However, since it was Edie's apartment building, the hesistancy seemed to fade rather quickly. Then, as I thought about what we had just been through, my anxiety rose a little. I'm sure Cray had the same feelings as she looked at me, as if to say 'I'm waiting for you to walk first.' I took a breath and slowly started down the hall. I clutched the key Edie had given me, as I carefully listened for any sound other than our footfalls and breathing.
Finally, we made it to the end of the hall where her apartment was. I quickly inserted the key and entered, Cray right on my heels. We closed the door and as the last lock clicked into place, we finally felt safe.
The place looked as if no one had lived there for a while. Everything was perfectly untouched, serene in this quiet little loft. Cray and I were almost afraid of putting our things down because it seemed we might disturb the peace.
Cray dropped her bags and heaved a sigh of release. "Well that was an interesting day, let's get to work". We proceeded to dump our bags in her living room and head to her home office. She had given us instructions to look up and contact some people in her circle of peers, as well as grab some files she said were key to "what would happen next". Cray and I didn't question the "what would happen next." I honestly could say I didn't want to know, but I trusted Edie. If she gave us these instructions then what was coming was good, right? Just as the question popped into my brain, my cell went off. It was Edie. "Hey! We made it in... whoa, slow down... uhuh, uhuh..." Cray looked at me quizzically and mouthed 'what's wrong'. Guess my face shared the uneasy feeling that was building in my gut with every word Edie uttered. I hung up the phone and looked at her. "Change of plans. We need to grab everything you think is valuable, all the information she had wanted initially, and then we have to..." I had to pause, cause what I was about to say was ludicrous. "Have to what?" "We, umm, she said we had to burn this place down". Again, Cray shot me a very quizzical look, then simply said, "well where does she keep her matches, cause this place is huge!" On that note, we got to work.

Monday, March 14, 2011

I'm Bored 1/2

The world had officially fallen apart. I was completely alone, it had been…well I can’t even remember how long it’s been since I lost Stephanie, there were zombies everywhere and I was living off of canned food and Twinkies. In all this mess, there was only one thought running through my mind. I’M BORED! I don’t know what had gotten into me. Maybe it was being cooped up in this attic all day, or not having anyone to talk to, or being stuck with only horrible thoughts running through my mind and not having anything else to fill the gap, but damn it I was bored as all hell! At least Tom Hanks had a volleyball to talk to when he got stuck on that island, lucky bastard. I don’t know what got into me, but I told myself I was going do something to make myself smile even if it was the last thing I did. It wasn’t the last thing I ever did, but it sure as hell put a smile on my face. And that’s the part that scared me.

Earlier memories of when all this crap was still hitting the fan are all jumbled together. I only really remembered certain events. Traumatic things that in one way or another led me to where I am now, and for the most part, kept me alive. I remember one event specifically, because I couldn’t figure it out. I saw a man running out of his house covered in blood. Now I don’t know if he had been bitten himself, but I know for sure he was covered in blood, whoever’s blood it happened to be. Anyway, I remember him being out in the street and just standing there looking around. He was out in plain sight in the middle of the day with a good number of zombies around, and not a single one even paid him any mind. They either walked right by him or didn’t even think twice about touching him. The only conclusion I could come to was the blood on his clothes was making him smell dead. I know it sounds weird, but these things all have a distinct smell. They all smell, for lack of a better word, dead. I don’t know how to describe it but it’s just sort of a rotting, fleshy kind of dead smell. Whatever the hell you want to call it, these things smell. That man smelled like one of them and they left him alone. That gave me an idea.

Boredom often leads to stupid things, but let’s face it I’m not the smartest guy in town anyway. First I was already going to break one of my main rules and travel at night. You’d think my first encounter being chased at night would have taught me better, but at this point I didn’t care. Either zombies were going to kill me out there, or my mind was going to kill me up in that attic. Either way I was screwed, so I figured what the hell I’m going out at night. I unlocked the front door to my safe-house as quietly as I could and I made my way very cautiously away from it. I had my bat with me, of course, and my hunting knife. It was time to go to work.

I only made it about two blocks before I spotted exactly what I wanted; one zombie, just listlessly drifting through the streets. He was a pretty big guy too, or he used to be before he got half eaten. I could tell he was missing his left arm by the way his jacket was flapping down on his left side. Whoever took him down must have taken him by surprise, and I assure you tonight wasn’t going to be any different. I was crouched behind a car and I spotted a small rock by my foot and picked it up. I threw it straight at the left side of his head and plunked him nice and hard. He stumbled one tiny step and then began to turn to his left to see what the source of that rock throw was. Exactly the way I planned it. I snuck around behind him as he was turning and with one quick plunge I buried my hunting knife into the back of his neck, right on the spine. He dropped to his knees but I could tell he wasn’t finished. Without a seconds hesitation I jammed the knife right through the top of his head, and that seemed to do the trick. I really was glad he was so much bigger than me, because it made the next part so much easier. I took off his blood soaked jacket and his torn up pants and slid them on over my own clothes. The smell was unbearable and I definitely threw up right out in the street, but I’ve had enough drunken street vomiting nights to let this slide easily. Now that I had his ridiculously over-sized clothes on, I was ready to have some fun. Time to go hunting!

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Who's On the Menu?

Every single bite I take makes me wonder if I'm crazy or if I've already become one of them.....

It was about a week after the breakout. All of the news reports ended. The television was filled with blank screens. Every radio station turned to high pitched scratch. I only had a very limited amount of DVDs. I had to let Smokey and the cats go free because I didn't feel fit to take care of them anymore. I couldn't even take care of myself. I hadn't been outside since the day my world turned to ash. I was bored. I was lonely. I was fucking hungry.

I had eaten everything in my house, from the canned tuna to the spoiled milk. A week was a long time and alot of meals, especially when you don't go outside to the supermarket. I just couldn't bring myself to leave. I didn't want to pass the headstones that I carved and the graves that I dug. They brought back too many memories of a former life.

After a few days of borderline starvation, I realized it was either eat or die. So before the thought of leaving the house, I gave every pantry one last check for scraps. Didn't find a goddamn thing in my house. I went downstairs into Joe's apartment and still found nothing in the cabinets. There was nothing left in the refrigerator. However, there was something in the freezer that I completely disregarded, up until now. The remains of Joe's body. At that point, it looked like a fine porterhouse steak, just waiting to be devoured. So, I did what had to be done. I took his thigh, let it thaw out for a few hours and prepared it for broiling. We Brazilians love the taste of meat with only a seasoning of salt. The natural flavor of the meat can be tasted at its full potential. I chopped the meat into small pieces then threw it in the oven. 10 minutes on each side and it was ready. Yeah, I know what you are thinking, "that was infected flesh." And you're right, it was. I figured that cooking the meat would either kill the infection or mutate it to something far less extreme.

After I let it cool down a bit, I noticed that it actually looked a bit like boneless beef ribs. And let me tell you, maybe it was because I was starving, but the first bite was like heaven. It tasted like someone took a prime rib and crossed it with filet mignon. I had never tasted anything so fucking delicious. It was like the first time I tried halal food from the halal guys on 56th street. I was in complete and utter awe. I had to have more. I went through Joe's entire body within days. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were Joe steak, Joe sandwich, and Sloppy Joes. It was only a matter of time until I would crave more. I had no choice but to go outside and get more. I wasn't going to eat the dead body in my yard because I figured it was all spoiled. I needed fresh or frozen meat. So I spent the next couple of days preparing myself for a hunt.

I needed to be undetectable. I decided to look and smell just like they did. I grabbed the Halloween costume that I wore last year that was a zombie doctor outfit. It was complete with white contacts that gave my eyes that cold, lifeless look. I quickly ran outside and cut myself a piece of mailman to rub all over my coat to mask my living scent. Next, I had to have a good weapon and good fighting skills. So I took my axe and sharpened it, razor thin. But it needed a name. I wasn't sure about a name until I started watching random fight scenes from my small collection of films. "Kill Bill" was my favorite in the bunch. She could kill numerous amounts of conscious men with ease. Her name in the film was Beatriz Kiddo. As would be the name of my weapon. She would become my most prized possession and my best friend.

After my preparation, I opened the back door and began my hunt. There weren't any zombies in sight. I needed a way to attract them to me so that I wouldn't have to stray too far from my house. I needed to make sure I could get back inside in case my plan failed. So, I decided to slam into a few parked cars. Their alarms were certainly loud enough to catch the attention of anything within a 4 block radius. I waited patiently for about 5 minutes until i finally saw the first sign of life. Or death? There were 3 of them walking around aimlessly. I creeped up as close as I could to test my disguise. They didn't seem to aim their attention toward me in the least. So I took full advantage and swung my axe with full force. The first blow was quick and fatal, leaving the first zombie completely lifeless. Then, I decided to have a little fun. I was going to make every single fucking zombie pay for my misery. And it started with the remaining 2. I took out one leg from each of them, using Beatriz's powerful sting. Then I proceeded to detach the rest of their limbs with my bare hands. I used the limbs to beat their skulls in until they were only recognizable as roadkill.
After my brutality was over, I threw the bodies over my shoulders and dragged them to the house. Two of them were thrown into a pile along with the mail man. And the other one was chopped into pieces and thrown into the freezer. Food for days!!!

And so it would was. The fear was gone. Every chance I got, I became a hunter and gatherer. I would hunt for a few victims and devour their carcases. I would use the time I spent, waiting for them, to gather a few luxuries and necessities. I made trips to blockbuster for new movies and television shows to watch. Gathered food supplies and grooming equipment. There was time to create a more secure barrier around my house, just in case. I was building the perfect fort. I was building the perfect me. You would think that there was no need to eat the dead, now that I wasn't afraid to travel to the supermarket. But, it wasn't that simple. I craved them. I couldn't go more than a few days without feeling the need to kill. I had to feed....

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Choosing a Proper Hideout

Everyone has heard the saying “you can run but you can’t hide.” Yeah, well I say that’s bull! You can definitely hide. In fact, in this zombie infested wasteland I’d say hiding is your best bet. However, the reality is that the vast majority of us are not skilled builders or contractors who can go into a house board up every single window and door, and fortify the place into an impenetrable fortress to safeguard us from the infected. So for the vast majority of us, here are some tips on choosing a proper hide out.

Tip #1 Attics are better than basements

Now I know what you’re going to say; you’re going to tell me “but basements are underground and have no windows so nothing can see you.” This is very true. However, you can easily be trapped in a basement. If the infected do happen to break into the house you’re as good as dead sitting in a basement. They typically only have one entrance and exit and you will have no way out should you become surrounded. Attics are better because their entrances are usually hidden and difficult to see. Also we can assume that the zombies wouldn’t be coordinated enough to find the entrance to the attic or to find a way to climb up there. Also, some attics offer a window that allows you to look outside which is good for you to be able to survey your surroundings and keep track of the days and nights without having to leave your hiding spot. Should you find yourself surrounded and trapped in the attic, you can use the window as a means for escape. Overall, attics tend to be better hiding places than basements.

Tip #2 Beware of windows

Zombies have a nasty tendency of crashing through windows and breaking their way into places. I know this may seem inconsiderate, but they are trying to eat you so manners don’t really play a role here. Picking a hide out with as few windows as possible is useful because it allows you to move around inside without many places for you to be seen. Also, it’s less work for you to have to cover up fewer windows. It is especially important to pick a hideout with as few windows on the ground level. Since these are the most easily accessible windows it is important that there be as few of them as possible. Also many people like to hide out in grocery stores or supermarkets. While this may seem like a good idea due to all the food and water you have to remember that these stores often always have huge windows and large glass doors. They can be easily smashed through and you will be visible in almost every area of the store. Unless the zombies have never seen you going into the supermarket I wouldn’t suggest hiding there.

Tip #3 Buildings are useful

Seeing that I’m from New York I have access to a lot of buildings. These served useful for me in my adventures because they offer excellent places to hide. Multiple floors offer different ways around the inside of the building. Also most of the bigger buildings have multiple exits which should come in handy in a sticky situation. Of course you have to make sure that whatever area of the building you are going into is clear of any danger (i.e. NO ZOMBIES!) The one drawback is that buildings, particularly the larger ones in the city, have many places where the infected can be waiting for you and it may be difficult to clear out the entire building. Stick to focusing on one floor at a time. Be certain that whichever floor of the building you are on is clear of any flesheaters, try to make as little noise as possible at all times and remaining unseen is always essential.

For those of you who can fortify a two story home into an impenetrable fortress of zombie fighting power, congratulations you’re amazing. For the rest of us normal people, these tips should come in handy when looking for a place to escape from zombies or just to spend a night or two.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Why I love my SUV

Cray and I sped through the streets of our neighborhood like never before. It was already midday Monday. The sun was bright and the air chilled. The buzz of life normally associated with this hour seemed to be low, but I chalked it up to it being New Year’s Eve, eve. Many houses we passed by seemed vacant, or had their owners in their driveways loading vehicles. Again, I just correlated what I was witnessing to holiday travel. The silence in the car started to bug Cray, so she turned on the radio. I have come to hate the radio - always the same playlist and way too many commercials. The radio jockey came on for a brief news update, and of course Cray took this opportunity to start talking. “So, that was really weird! When I spoke with Edie she said that those”, she swallowed hard, “people we just encountered may have to do with the recent rabies outbreak in the city”. In the past two weeks, the news was littered with random “rabies” attacks. At first, the reports were only animals getting savagely attacked; and then slowly reports started to come in that people were attacking people, biting people, to be more specific, at an alarming rate. “Cray, last time I checked, rabies didn’t do what we just saw. For God’s sake, her head was backwards!" Cray sat further down in the passenger’s seat, “Yea, true… hope Edie has some good news…” The rest of the ride was pretty silent. Heading toward Columbia University Medical Center seemed normal enough, but as we parked and approached the entrance, madness seemed to be draped around the building. Ambulances were racing in and out, people seemed to be flooding out from the ER and pouring into other departments. Cray and I tried to keep composed and bee-lined to find our friend Edie, who worked in the Neuro center.
“Guys! Over here!” Edie waved us over to where she was standing amid the typical office chaos. “Hi!” she squealed. Edie had been working a double shift and it showed. Tired eyes, but wired with whatever she was hopped up on this time around. That seemed to be Edie all the time though - constant energy. “Hey!” I responded warmly. We hugged briefly, and as I pulled away, she gasped and yanked me into a free room, leaving Cray nervously shifting against the wall as she tried to avoid all personal contact with those filling the hallways. Edie locked the door. “Why do you have a blood speck on your chin?” She said this while getting closer to my face, inspecting every inch. “Well, I thought Cray brought you up to speed…” I felt a finger on my mouth and she unzipped my coat. "Take off that shirt, now. I will need to run labs ASAP. This is, I am assuming, the dead guy's blood?” “Ugh, yeah, with mix parts of Charlie, I guess?” She was engrossed with the stains on my shirt. “Well, hand over the shirt.”
Two hours later, I was in the same room in fresh clothing that Cray had packed. Edie had left us in here as she went off to test the shirt, as well as residue from under my fingernails. I shuddered to think of what the test would yield. As my thoughts started turning over what her findings might be, she burst through the door. "We've got to go!" As soon as she had popped in, she popped out… Cray and I just looked at each other, grabbed our belongings, and quickly caught up to Edie. She was walking with a purpose, and given the situation, that really scared the crap out of me. We followed her into an empty OR - well almost empty; there was a cadaver on the table with a sheet over it; just the feet and toe-tag visible. Not what I wanted to see after what I had just been through. She caught my eye and gave a nervous smile. "It’s OK; dead, see.” She tapped it’s forehead to backup her words. With no response from the dead body, she laid a folder on its abdomen, as if it were the cold steel table. “Alright, so I got some of the test results back.” She took some film and placed them on the film illuminator. We quietly gathered around as she started pointing out anomalies. “These scans are actually of this specimen...guy right here”. She pointed to the body, and then back to the screen. “The tissue I was able to salvage from your shirt was definitely dead tissue, and very closely resembled the tissue samples I took from him" - again, she pointed back to the body behind us - “before he was 'dead'" - she made the bunny ears with her fingers. This made me even more uneasy, being in the room with this guy. She continued on, as if she had said nothing out of the ordinary. “ The blood results, well… I’m still waiting on some..." Her sentence was cut short, as the electricity went out. In the seconds that the lights went out, so did the hope that what we were encountering was going to be easily explained. We heard the folder hit the floor, yet none of us had moved since the lights went out. Before I even heard the hum of the backup generator, I bolted for the door. All I could hear were our footfalls as we ran out of the OR. Well, I thought it was all of our feet... fucking Edie.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

The End is Just the Beginning 2/2

What the hell was I supposed to do? I know he was her father. But I had to protect her, right? I mean, he was standing right between us and our only way out. Well she surely didn't enjoy watching me take him by the throat and ram his head through the wall. Rather, I smashed the wall through his head. I didn't enjoy it too much either. I had nothing but love and respect for the man.

"Be strong baby. I had no choice and you know that. He was one of those things. A zombie," I said sofly. " That's not the fucking point! He was my father goddamnit, have some sympathy!" She was right, I could have been more sensitive. But, there was no time to be sympathetic. It was "zombie apocalypse" for Christ's sake.
We headed back to my house. I didn't want to leave my mother alone for much longer. It seemed that in the 5 minutes we were at Shelah's house, things had already gotten a lot worse. There were bodies everywhere, sprawled across the streets. And some of them were getting up. Scratch that, all of them were getting up!!!
This time, I drove carelessly. Everyone seemed to be infected and I didn't want to take my chances. I have to admit that I was afraid. I was especially afraid for my mother and Shelah. I didn't know if I was capable of keeping them safe. But, I was going to do everything in my power. I was going to fight!!!
We arrived back at my place. I figured we can defend ourselves from there. We have strong doors and large dogs. When we sprinted into the house from the car, I yelled for my mother. No answer. What the hell could she be doing? I told her not to move until I came back for her. I ran upstairs to look for her, but she was nowhere to be found. I heard a loud, painful yelp from downstairs. It was Bandit's cry! Bandit was my dog and my best friend. "Shit!! One of those things is here in the goddamn house. What am I gonna do baby?" She freaked out just as much as I did, but somehow came to her senses once she noticed the axe that was mounted on my wall. I got that axe about two years ago from the Renaissance Faire and haven't touched it since it was nailed to my wall. "Take it, baby," She said without a stutter, "I know that you'll get us out of this. I trust you with my life. You're Isaac. You can do anything, baby." Encouraging words. Actually made me feel invincible. A feeling that lasted about ten seconds, because when I came downstairs, I saw what made Bandit cry so loud. It was my mother. She was on her knees, ripping his stomach out while Smokey, my other dog, watched in fear.
"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!!!!" I started freaking out and crying at the same time. That was my mother!! She raised me, supported me, loved me for more than 24 years. What was I supposed to do now? I looked at Shelah and saw that she was just as scared as I was. She asked me if I needed her to do it. But I couldn't let her. What if my mother got a hold of her? Then I would have lost them both, ya know. So I did what I had to do. I'm not going into details now because I'm already on the verge of crying hysterically.

After I handled the situation, I took a few moments to myself to reflect on what I had just done. Shelah didn't say a word, she just held me while I sat there. If anyone understood my pain, it was her. It hurt. I felt like I lost a part of my heart that moment. I lost a part of me.

After I came to, I grabbed my axe and headed straight to the basement. The house was locked up, so the only way my mother could have been bitten was from the inside. The only one home was my tenant. He was about to get it the worst of all. I slammed the door open and looked straight into the bastard's lifeless eyes. If these things could show fear, he would have been showing plenty of it. Joe was a big guy, and in pretty good shape. He ought to be, being a fireman and all. But he was no match for my axe. I didn't want to just kill him. I wanted to make him suffer, if that was at all possible.

The first thing I did was yell up to Shelah, "whatever you do baby, don't come down here. You don't wanna see this." Then I shut the door behind me. My first swing was aimed directly for his right knee. Then the left one. The axe was blunt, so it took a few swings before I could remove each leg. Now that his legs were gone I took off each arm, individually. This was a little easier because the meat on his arms were thinner as well as his bones. There had to be little to no blood left in him. But, somehow he was still alive and still chomping his teeth at me. I knew these things had to die somehow. I remembered my previous two killings were both blows to the head, so that must have been the answer. So, I stayed away from his head as long as possible. I swung away, and each bash was harder than the next. Each new sound of his bones breaking and organs squishing brought more of an unfamiliar satisfaction to me. At that moment, I lost even more of the man that I once was. After about 7 or 8 minutes, all that remained, of the creature that was once Joe, was his head. Eyes still open and mouth still moving, I decided not to finish the job. I grabbed his head from behind and tossed it in the freezer along with the rest of his body parts. I didn't know where else to put it all. A job well done.

Covered in blood, I ran upstairs to change. Before I could make it to the top floor of my house, Shelah and I heard a loud banging on the door. It was the mail man. Remembering what I saw on Shelah's steps, I figured this was the reason for Shelah's parents' demise. I guess my job wasn't finished yet. Again, I sent Shelah upstairs and told her to lock herself in my room. Mr. mail man was about to suffer just as much as Joe. I let him in and took a few steps back. Upon entering, he looked at me for a moment. He just stared through me as though I wasn't even there. "It's the blood!!" I said to myself. With all of the "Zombie Joe" blood on me, he must not be able to recognize me as being among the living. All the same, I made him suffer the exact same fate as my previous victim. I wouldn't let Shelah come downstairs until I cleaned up everything. I didn't want her to have to see all of it. She had enough to deal with that day. I tossed all of the body parts into my backyard and attempted to mop up the remains.

After all was done, I went up to comfort Shelah. "All of the doors are locked. Tomorrow I will get some chains and wood to lock up the doors and board up all of the windows. I guess for now we are safe, baby. I'm sorry about everything that has happened to you. Just know that I'm going to protect you from here on out. I promise...." She began to shiver and just wanted me to hold her. After we laid there for a few minutes, I remembered the wound on her shoulder. I got the first aid kit from Joe's apartment and patched her up. "There you go baby, good as new." At that moment, I was just so happy that she wasn't bitten. I couldn't imagine losing the love of my life.....

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Homecoming 3/3

Before I could even process the situation, Chris is jumping across the bed and coming after me. This moment was the closest I’ve ever been to being a 5 year old little girl. I screamed at the top of my lungs as he lunged towards me, and I did the only thing I could think of; I threw the phone at him. This, of course, did nothing as I watched the plastic house phone bounce off the top of his head and flop helplessly to the floor. Chris tackles me backwards against my mothers’ dresser. The mirror shatters as the weight of both our bodies slams against it. He’s a lot stronger than he looked. I don’t know if this whole rage induced frenzy has given him super human strength or something, but the situation was quickly turning pretty damn bad for me. He lunges at me with his mouth open trying to take a bite out of my neck, but I side step him and push him away just in time for him to miss my neck by inches and send his head crashing into the wall.

I quickly get behind him, wrap my arms around his waist and spin him around, tossing him over the bed and onto the floor on the other side of the room. I managed to get him away from me but now he’s on the side of the room with the only door. “Think Ant think, how the hell can I get out of here?” As soon as he stands up, I knew I had to make a quick move. I bend down, grab the bottom of the bed and flip the mattress upright. I push it towards him, and keep pushing until he’s trapped between the mattress and the wall. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but seeing as how my mother has a Queen sized mattress, I had now managed to block the door as well. This really sucks. In a moment of complete panic, and probably even more complete stupidity, I do the only thing I can think of; I rush straight at the window and jump. I was only on the second floor and I knew we had an awning for me to roll on, but it was still pretty damn stupid. But what can I say, I had no other choice, and I had to get out of there. I roll across the top of the awning making as much noise as one man could possibly make, fall off the awning and begin to topple down towards my driveway. At a minimum I expected to walk away from this fall with at least a broken leg, which was a guaranteed death sentence right now. As I roll off the awning and fall, I manage to grab hold of the railing on our patio, which was only about six feet below the awning itself. I’ve never been able to do a single pull-up a day in my life, yet somehow today I managed to dive through a glass window, roll off an awning and then catch myself in mid-air with one hand on our patio railing. I don’t question why or how things happened, I’m just damn grateful they did. I hang there for a second in sheer disbelief that I had stopped falling, and then I see my neighbor come bursting through our front door.

I let go of the railing and drop the last 8 feet straight down to our driveway. I managed to land on my feet and simply stumble back a bit. I can’t help but think to myself “Nice catch Ant.” Chris is already running down our front stairs heading after me. I don’t know who else is around to have heard all the noise I just made, but honestly I don’t care to find out. I make a mad dash for my car, jump in and fire up the engine. My neighbor jumps on my hood, and punches my windshield. With one giant shot of force he cracks my windshield. I scream out “OH SHIT!” and I speed out of my driveway in reverse. I whip the car around and watch this possessed former neighbor of mine get flung off my hood and go flying over a parked car. Smoke from my tires fills the street, and I speed out of there faster than any safety regulations would recommend. “What the hell just happened?!” I look in my rear view mirror, and not only do I see my neighbor giving chase, but a huge crowd of at least forty people behind him as well. They were all running after me as fast as they possibly could, but let’s face it I’m in my car now and if you didn’t kill me while I was trapped in a bedroom with only a phone to defend myself, you sure as hell weren’t catching me now. I speed down Crosby Avenue with no general destination in mind. All I knew was I had to get the hell away from my house and figure out what in the hell was going on! But who could I turn to? Where could I go? Who had information? I plug my phone into the charger, and let the battery get some life back into it. Maybe my friends were having some better luck right now than I was. Then again, I’m assuming my friends weren’t all messed up like my neighbor was. All I knew was I just escaped the clutches of certain death, and I was grateful.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Where is the Chosen 1?



After an unprecedented overflow of concerned calls and letters by all the beautiful women of the world asking where Jay MF Ruez is, our covert news team has finally located him and asked him for the reason of his sudden silence. His response:

“Ladies, the chosen one has not forgotten ya, nonono, still love the shit out of ya, even the regular looking ones. Daddy is still alive and cooling. Prophecy still in effect. Gospel of Impregnation still a go. Reason for the resent silence is because a lot of shit went down, daddy will recap the whole EPIC adventure for ya so that my legend can be told to the new world of Jay MF Ruez created babies. Mwah ladies, I’m playing Cutie right now thinking of ya”

And There You Have it Ladies, dudes stop hating. Jay MF Ruez is safe and apparently has some EPIC & LEGENDARY account of his recent interactions with the zombies.

Stay Tuned

This is why no one likes Mondays

Screaming, more screaming, and blood... That’s all I sensed at the moment. “May! Oh my God, May, what did you do? Can you hear me? Please, talk to me.” I finally snapped to, dropping the shovel as I surveyed the damage. I could not bear to look anymore, especially at the carnage that was once Charlie. I let myself fall into Cray’s embrace. “May, I don’t know what’s going on around here, but we need to call Edie. You know she’s on top of weird, unexplainable shit.” I just nodded and let her lead me back into my home. I collapsed on my sofa, still really shaken by the experience. Cray looked at me. "OK… what the hell happened?" She extended a tissue from the box on the coffee table next to the sofa, and patiently waited for me to recount my morning. About an hour and a whole tissue box later, I was done with my tale and more composed. Cray began searching through my house for some acceptable clothes and items to pack. In the hour I was mumbling away, she seemed to be mentally packing, arranging and setting up my itinerary for the day. I let her live out her agenda; I trusted her wholeheartedly. I grabbed a towel from under the sink, picked up the shovel, and went back out to the butchery. Gently, I wrapped what was left of Charlie in the towel, and headed toward my backyard to bury his remains. I could care less about the bloody stump lying across my front lawn. I made a little grave and, as I began to cover the site, Cray came running out the back door. "We got to go, now!" Confused, I looked at her as she started half dragging me back to the front of the house. "Cray, what’s going on? I need to lock up the house…" "We do not have time, I just spoke with Edie." She began loading my car, which was right in the driveway, with the 'essentials' she’d packed for me. This translated into 2 duffel bags of, who the hell knows what, and 3 grocery bags full of water, some fruits, a flashlight, a mix of AA and AAA batteries, and I couldn’t make out the rest. "We’re going to pick her up at her job. She said she knows what’s going on... well sort of knows. Says Luis knows more but hasn’t reached out to her in over 24hrs. He’s out in Atlanta doing God knows what… Anyway, she said we need to hurry to her." "Cray, wait. I can’t just leave everything. What about Michael?" At the name, Cray cringed a little. "Cray, I know you hate him right now, but he’s still your husband, and my brother. Have you heard anything from him at all?" She just shook her head. "Did you check all your messages; you mentioned you received a lot." "Did you check yours?" she tartly responded. At this, I looked at my hand and realized it was gripping the shovel, not my phone. Cray caught the glance to my right hand. "I put it in the 'essentials' bag; we’ll charge it in the car. He didn’t call me, but he called you…" She began to look past me. I turned around to follow her line of sight… We both then looked at each other, and practically jumped into the car. Doors locked, engine on, shovel tossed in the backseat... I had never pulled out of my driveway so fast! As I did, I heard the sickening thump and crunch as I ran over what Cray and I had just been starring at. It was my neighbor, Ms. Xavies - only her head was in the wrong direction long before my car ran over it… Way to start off my Monday!

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The End is Just the Beginning 1/2

It's the end of the fucking world. I'm all alone. I've lost everything and everyone I've ever cared about. The only one who hasn't left my side is my beloved Beatriz. I know I'm not the only survivor left out there. I'm tired of being by myself, with only my thoughts: The memories of a much happier time......
I'll never forget that first day. I woke up with an unbareable headache from the festivities of New Year's Eve at the Thirsty Turtle - my beautiful girlfriend sleeping at my side. Her name was Shelah. She had long legs, brown hair, innocent brown eyes, and the most amazing smile. You know, perfect. We grew up together, only a few blocks away from one another in Pelham Bay. We never really spent much time together over the years because we went to different high schools and had different groups of friends. We reconnected about a year ago, and it immediately became something great. I was in love - Something I never knew before; something I never thought I could feel... We were the couple that they wrote novels about, and romantic screenplays. We couldn't wait to get married. We saw our children in each other's eyes: Baby, Mary Anne, and her big brother, James Maldonado. We were perfect.
I was woken up by a news report on my clock radio, rather than the usual 101.9 morning music. All I could hear before I shut off the alarm was "stay indoors." So I assumed we were probably just getting another snow storm. I woke up Shelah, and headed down to make some breakfast. My dogs were barking at the front door repeatedly. I told them to shut up. I figured there was a dog outside the house and they were just being territorial. My mother, Mary Anne, was already in the kitchen making eggs and wheat toast. She definitely wasn't your average mother. She was perfectly fit and incredibly hard working. Most people are exhausted after a single aerobic workout. She averaged 5 a day! Then she would come home and clean the entire hous,e and still find time to cook for me and my brothers. I helped her around the house because I was her only child still living at home. I definitely could have helped her more. I wish I did. Even though I didn't always show it, I loved her more than anything. She was the biggest part of what made me, me.
I guess u can say I was a good person - Stress the word "was." I was kind-hearted, loving, strong-willed, hopeful. I've always been a huge animal lover. I always tried to do the right thing, as often as I could. I worked out daily, making sure I always got my cardio in. A film major at Hunter College, I was almost ready to graduate. I was ready to spend the rest of my life in success and happiness. I had my whole life ahead of me.
So, after having breakfast with the two women who meant the most to me, I was going to drop off Shelah at her house and say hello to her parents. We exited the house, only to the sight of complete and utter chaos: Multiple cars crashed into one another, some on fire and smoking up the air... Many of my neighbors running for their lives, from their own family members. "What the fuck?!?!?" I screamed at this horrific site. I've had countless dreams about a zombie apocalypse, but never imagined it would really occur. The first thing i did was hit myself in an attempt to wake myself up. But, my intense headache gave me a pretty clear message that this was really happening.
The first words out of Shelah's mouth were "My parents!!!" as she jetted for my car. Immediately, I knew that this was a terrible idea, but I couldn't leave her alone. I had to protect her. So, I alerted my mother of the situation, to which she freaked out. I locked the door behind me and ran for my car, alongside Shelah. Her house is only about 5 blocks away from mine, so this wasn't a very far journey. I had no idea who was who, so I drove as carefully as possible, trying as hard as I could not to hit any of my fellow New Yorkers. Upon arriving at Shelah's, I knew that her parents were going to be safe. Her father locks up the place like a fortress. When we got to the front door, I noticed a mail carrier's bag on the steps, and stains of blood on the storm door. This wasn't a good sign.
After gaining entry, Shelah ran up the stairs - fastest run ever - and continued to call out to her mother. But, no answer. When we got into her living room, we could see her mother resting on her favorite chair. We tried to wake her up and inform her of whatever the hell was going on. But she wouldn't budge. I said to Shelah, "look!" as I pointed her to the bite marks in her mother's arm. Just as Shelah began to cry, her mother woke up, with the emptiest look in her eyes. She looked right at Shelah and reached out for her, scratching her neck and shoulder. I managed to pull Shelah from her mother's grasp, and headed towards the door, dragging her behind me. Still, she fought me. She didn't know what was going on, and didn't want to leave her mother like that. I had to tell her, "there's nothing we can do for her now, baby. I'm sorry. Your father can't be very far from here, and, judging by the look of the place, he isn't in much better shape than your mother right now." I couldn't keep her from crying, and I knew that there was nothing I could do to relieve this pain she was feeling. I could have only imagined how I would be if I lost my parents. All I could do is drag her to the stairs, and get her to her feet so we could escape.

There he was, at the foot of the stairs. Shelah's father looked up at us, as though he was ready to devour us both......

Monday, February 21, 2011

Homecoming 2/3

*BANG BANG* The banging continued to echo all the way up into my mothers bedroom. It sounded like someone was banging on the back door, which leads into the kitchen from the backyard. “Maybe it’s mom!” I thought to myself. Maybe she was outside in the backyard and she got locked out. She has a tendency of always leaving her keys in the house whenever she goes out to do little things like running to the corner store, or even just going downstairs to the laundry room. She never really went very far, but I always told her to take her keys with her just in case. I used to lock the door sometimes, just as a joke, and lock her outside for a minute or two. But this time there was nothing funny about what was happening outside. I ran downstairs to see what the banging was, hoping it would bring me some good news.

Just as my foot reaches the last step, I hear the back door shatter. Glass comes crashing down onto my kitchen floor in a million broken pieces. I hear foot steps entering the kitchen, crunching down on the broken glass, and I freeze in place still standing one step off the ground. Who the hell just shattered my back door? I pause on the first step, and slowly turn my head around the banister and towards the kitchen. Unfortunately for me, the wall between the living room and the kitchen blocks the back door so I couldn’t see who or what had come into the house. “Great,” I thought to myself, “now I have to walk into the kitchen and see who or what the hell that was.” As I stepped off the last stair it creaked, the same way all wooden stairs tend to creak when you’re trying to quietly sneak in or out of your house. It’s almost as if parents put a magic spell on staircases to make a ridiculously huge amount of noise at the most inconvenient times. Before I got both feet down on the floor, I heard the footsteps from the kitchen come sprinting down the hallway in my direction. Fear locked me in place as I saw my neighbor Chris come barreling toward me. His shirt was ripped and covered in blood, as was his face. He had scratches going up and down his arms, blood dripping from his lips, and a chunk of flesh missing from the top of his right forearm. Even as he was still a good 10 feet away from me I could smell something that just reeked of rotten or infected flesh. I was hoping the banging from the back door would bring me some relief from this nightmare I had come home to, but clearly this was not to be the case. I knew I wasn’t going to get any answers from my blood drenched neighbor, who was now charging at me as if he just caught me sleeping with his wife, so I did the logical thing and tried to get my ass the hell out of there.

Luckily for me I turned and made it up two stairs before doing the stupidest thing you could possibly do in a situation like this. Yep you guessed it, I fell. My neighbor, or whatever the hell this thing was now that used to be my neighbor, grabbed my left ankle and started dragging me down the stairs. Lucky for me despite losing some weight I was still pretty damn big, and not that easily dragged. I turned over and kicked him square in the face with my right foot, and sent him flying backwards into the wall. He hit the wall with such a thud that he broke a nice sized hole in it. Great now I have to worry about fixing a wall when all this mess is over, exactly what I needed! I run up the stairs and go straight into my mothers’ bedroom, because it’s the only room with a phone in it on the second floor. I locked the door and dive across the bed reaching for the house phone. I don’t know what I expected to happen when I picked up that phone, but I dialed 911 and of course…busy. “Shit! Now what?!” I hear my neighbor make it to the top of the stairs, and of course he can tell which room I’m in seeing as how it’s the only one with the door closed. I don’t know how much protection I thought a thin wooden door and one lock was going to offer me, but it clearly wasn’t enough. I’ve gotten angry and punched holes straight through doors like these before, so it was no difficult task for this thing to just charge at the door and break it off the hinges. Now he’s in the room with me, and I’m standing there wide eyed like a deer in headlights with nothing but a house phone in my hand and that annoying busy signal noise chirping away like there’s no tomorrow. The only thought racing through my mind is “Now what the hell am I going to do?”

Unthinkable Finale 2/2

     I fired ahead and shot one of the zombies in the knee cap, but it took me two shots while the other moved past this crippled one.  He lunged at me while I was rolling over and I fired right at his face and once while he was down.  This leaves me with one bullet which I was proud to walk right up to this garbage undead and blast right in its brain.  I immediately went into the hallway and went straight into my rooms direction where Pippo was still barking.

     Upon arriving at my room's door I noticed these zombies were breaking it down and left a huge hole down the middle.  Mah du Pippo was almost dinner and I can assure you I wouldn't have been able to go on with the guilt.  I opened the door and picked him up in relief.  His heart racing at an unprecedented rate.

     This is the point now where I realize it won't be too safe to just linger in one place.   I am going to need to find other survivors and hopefully their shelter is still worthy of being called a safe-house.  This night will result in me boarding up the back door with the kitchen table wood.

     It only took me 1 hour for that operation to take place and this is the point where I'd shut all the lights off and make sure Pippo has everything he needs upstairs so he doesn't require barking to alert me.  I decided from this day forth the 2nd floor wouldn't be the safest place in the house, but I should take this to the 3rd floor.  I am now thinking I should go to my car and get "Old Faithful" and bring it inside because I could have sure used it earlier.

     The time comes around 9 p.m. where I grow about insecure not having my hockey stick handy and I decide I'll see if it is clear outside so I can grab it from the backseat.  When I reach the living room and look through the blinds out the front window I see a horde of zombies at the surrounding houses.  Must be about 20 or 25 of them.  "How the hell is this happening?!?" is the only thing running across my mind.  Within seconds I hear something I had hoped I'd never hear and it makes me realize there was one thing I forgot to do...check the 3rd floor.  The sound of furniture moving and constantly.  Pippo is beginning to bark and I am worried the horde will hear him.  Not to mention all I have is my gun which would be too loud and draw the attention to my house.  I cant deny the panic spreading throughout my body and mind.  I decide to keep the door leading to the 3rd floor locked until I can find something silent and pray it is just one.  When I collected my thoughts I realized I had an entire golfing set downstairs in the laundry room and had an assortment of weapons to utilize.

     The 3-Wood always worked wonders for me and I am certain it wont fail me now, but to be safe I will take my 8-Iron as well.  I place the 9mm in the back of my pants and decide to make sure people is calm and anybody that had the luxury to meet the guy know all that will take is some bread.  This is the moment where I am so friggin annoyed that I unlock the door quietly and make my way up to the 3rd floor gingerly.  I wait about 5 steps from the top hoping a sound is made so I can know which direction to give my attention first.  The sound is finally made and it is just to the right in the large living room with the connected kitchen.  No way around it at this point I am freaking out because the 3rd floor always scares me at night since I was just a boy.  I have my 3-Wood in hand because it has longer range and I creep slowly towards the living room when I noticed something I couldn't believe.  One of the walkers was upstairs in my house standing at the window and stumbling backwards pushing the couch back and coffee table.

     I move into the room and look left into the dark kitchen and it seems clear.  It crosses my mind that this thing will likely smell me as I approach it closer.  So i noticed the lamp was within reach of me and I outstretched my arm and grabbed it.  Too bad once I grabbed this lamp the sound of the cord in socket getting pulled drew the attention of this undead woman and she turned quickly and screeched.  Not only am I pissed she is in my house and I am going to have to clean up, but that screech was awful.  I dropped the lamp and clutched my 3-Wood like I would a baseball bat and swung directly at her temple.  She dropped hard and that's when I switched to my 8-Iron and bashed her head in multiple times.

     Now I realize it is best to be safe and check the rest of the floor for walkers and fortunately there was nothing left for me to kill.  I am annoyed because I have an OCD with being clean and keeping things clean, but this horde outside is preventing me from clearing these bodies.  Instead I decide to tie this one undead woman up to the door hinge with a rope that was in the hallway closet.  While also locking the door until morning.  Next up were the zombies downstairs.  I brought them all into one room and tied them together by their legs and closed them in my parents room until morning and sealed that door off as well.

    There better not be anymore traumatic events like this because I will likely lose my nerve and get careless with precautions and just light these creatures up.  God, why is this happening?!

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

This is why no one likes Mondays

Charlie was nibbling my hand, beckoning me to wake up. I lifted my hand and turned over in my bed, giving my back to him. He took this as the signal to bark, loudly and repeatedly. "I’m up. I’m up. Are you happy, now?" I got two barks which I took as "No. I will not be happy 'til I’m walked and fed." I threw on some sweats, a hoodie, baseball cap to mask gnarly morning hair, and headed out of my bedroom. Charlie was already waiting by the front door, knowing that soon he’d be basking in the beautiful sun outside. I reached for the door, getting ready to release the beast, when something caught the corner of my eye through the front window. It looked like a grown man sprawled on my front lawn - fully dressed in a tuxedo, but no shoes. As I took a closer look, now from the safety of the door’s peep-hole, shoes were not the only things missing. I backed slowly toward my couch and scooped up the bag my friend Cray had gotten for me. I rummaged, looking for my cell. Why did she get me such a big bag?! I could never find anything in this damn thing. It was pretty though, and sparkled in the light. I smiled to myself as I held the bag up to the sun, and lost myself for a moment in fashion euphoria... only to be rudely brought back to the world by a thump at my door. I finally grabbed hold of my cell and cautiously went toward the door. I scanned the front window, hoping to find the thing still on my lawn. He was not there, leading me to believe it was at my door. Charlie was riled up, hopping maybe 2 or so inches off the ground as Multipoos tend to do when overly excited. I checked the peep hole - holy crap - I gasped aloud - Thump. It was out there, and had just looked me in the eye through the peep-hole. "What do I do?" - Thump, Thump - "Charlie, please shush, I must think!" O.k., it looked pretty beat up. There had to be some logical explanation to his being sprawled on my lawn and missing part of his jaw… right? "May, get it together! You are a renowned lawyer, breathe" - Thump - "I'm coming!!!" I gingerly opened the door, wide enough as not to be rude, narrow enough to slam in this things face in a nanosecond. Unfortunately, it proved to be just right for Charlie to slip out. I threw open the door and only thought about it afterwards. Thank God this thing's attention was on Charlie. "Charlie, get back here," I yelled. Charlie paid no heed, as he was now growling and maneuvering around this thing. I changed my approach and started calling to the man/thing. "Hey... hey dude. Peeper guy. Hello! Why don’t you leave my dog alone! He has every right to growl; this is his… Hey! Get your hands off of my Charlie!!!" Charlie was now barely escaping the things attempts to catch him. He ran under my hydrangeas for shelter, and cat-like began fending off the guy's hands with his paw-swats. This was enough! I knew I had pepper spray in my purse, at the very least! In the seconds it took to grab the bag, I heard a squeal...My heart raced, and I ran out with the bag in hand. I looked toward the hydrangeas. Charlie was holding his little paw up, and their seemed to be blood. "You sonofabitch, you scratched my dog!!! What the fuck is your problem?!" I began to whack the peeper - that was now on its knees trying to drag Charlie out - with the bag. This did little to nothing … For some reason, I began to bargain with the peeper. "Look, this bag is worth a lot of money. It has a lot of money in it. Just drop the need for my dog and leave!" He proceeded to get up, and I thought my plea bargaining had worked. I warily started heading back to my door. And then it happened... It turned to me and made direct eye contact as I stood in the doorway, and I saw that what used to be a man most certainly was not anymore. The eyes were so dark - literally a vacant glazed black pool. I slammed the door just in time, as it sprinted towards me. I was shaking. I dropped the bag and realized the phone was still clutched in my right hand. I called my best friend Cray. Maybe she could make sense of this nightmare. She recently moved up the block, and I needed her to get here ASAP! “Come on, pick up!” I kept glancing out my front window, hoping that this man… thing… would just disappear! “Hello?” Oh, thank God she picked up… "Seriously, you’re already talking to me about your outfit?"…I began to cry.. "There’s this thing outside, harassing Charlie. I bargained that piece-of-shit bag for Charlie and he, he scoffed at it and..." I was babbling and tried to calm myself. I looked out the window. I dropped my phone... That thing had Charlie in its grasp! I shut the phone, threw open my door, grabbed the first thing next to the bushes by my door, and proceeded to beat, smash, and I lost myself… When I came to, I just remember hearing Cray screaming and holding me... and the echo of my own anguished yells.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

So Young, So Beautiful... 4/4

... Ugh... Where am I? How did I get here? It's so dark here. Am I dead? Maybe I'm blind. I'm so damn hungry, I must have been out for a while. Why can't I remember where I am or how I got here? Why can't I remember who I am....

At the moment, standing up seems to be a hard enough task. My legs and arms aren't responding well. I can only imagine that I hit my head pretty hard and it damaged some of my brain's functions.

I get to my feet and feel around for an exit from the darkness. It's cold here, must be in a basement or cellar. I found a set of stairs but I'm having some dificulty climbing them. Oh good, a door. I can see light through the crack beneath the door and I feel comfort, knowing that im not blind. I open the door to see that it is daytime. I'm so hungry, I must not have eaten much recently. I find the refrigerator and reach for the milk. Sour, disgusting! Must be expired. I check the date but that's no help, especially because I have no idea what day it is.

How do I look right now? I search for a mirror and I finally can see who I am. Not bad. A little pale, but maybe thats just the way that I look normally. Althougjh, for someone who has just woken up, I look like I haven't slept in days. Whats that? Seems like my clothes are torn open near my shoulder. I must have been attacked by a dog. Funny, I don't see a dog.

I search the house for some kind of clue as to who I might be. Every picture frame includes people I don't recognize and the same two people appear in a large percentage of the pictures. Must not be my home. But, what was I doing in the basement when the owners are not here? Perhaps I'm a friend or maybe even a thief. I guess that my being a thief would explain my torn clothing. Well, if I am a thief, let me get out of the house before the owners find me.

I exit the house only to find that there is not a soul in sight. The streets are filled with garbage and broken vehicles. What happened here and why was I left behind in all of this mess? I can only hope that i'm not the cause off all this mess and destruction. I travel slowly to the end of the block. I see a man walking slowly, opposite my direction. I attempt to call out to him but the words don't come out. I really must have damaged something. Or, maybe i've always been mute. I continue towards him and close the gap between us. He clearly hears my footsteps and slowly turns around. My God!

The man's face is mangled and his chest has been torn wide open. How could he have possibly survived such wounds? Why isn't he at the hospital? For some reason, my first, natural instinct is not to be afraid and run in fear. I must be used to seeing something like this. Maybe i'm a doctor. He walks very slowly and drags one leg behind. He is coming towards me and reaches out, as though to get me in his grasp, but he can't seem to reach me. I notice in the distance that there are tons more like him, and it appears that they can move faster. As fast as I can (which at the moment is pretty slow), I head for the nearest hiding place.
I continue toward the back yard of the nearest home. I probably have a better chance of not being see if I enter through a back door somewhere. I find a large shed with thick, steel walls and a heavy-looking door. Something is drawing me to the door. I must somehow recognize it as my mouth begins to salivate. I must know that there is food inside. There is a peep hole. Why would a shed need a peep hole? Oh no, it's locked. There must be someone inside. Perhaps they can let me in to take shelter.

I slam on the door repeatedly. I hear a voice but I can't understand the words from behind the door. I hear the unlocking of the door. And, before me stands a little girl. Her hair is short, bouncy, and strawberry blonde. Her eyes are a bright blue. She smiles because she appears to recognize me. Her smile creates these amazing little dimples. Who is this angelic looking girl? all that can pass through my mind is that she looks so young, so beautiful, and so delicious.......

-The End-

Monday, February 14, 2011

Unthinkable 1/2

Seeing signs that somebody out there is still alive gave me great satisfaction.  I started to believe that things might get brighter for me in the days ahead.  It was dusk out when I pulled onto my street and parked my car in the driveway.  Upon stepping out of my car and closing the door I immediately felt as though my heart had stopped for a split-second.  All I could hear is loud barking coming from my backyard.  It was Pippo and I knew it!
     I took my 9mm off safety and ran to the backyard without even thinking what could be back there waiting for me.  All I knew at this point is that my last remaining buddy was distressed over something.  I ran down the long driveway and much to my dismay my backdoor was open.  Now at this point I started crying, but only because all I could think of was the worst case scenario.  How could I not think that?  Entering the house I knew that I had locked Pippo in my room and so maybe he was just nervous.  

Step by Step:
  1. I entered the kitchen through the backdoor and noticed nothing was touched.  
  2. Passing through the kitchen I heard a bang from upstairs.  It is at this point my hear rate is at its peak.
  3. Moving passed by bathroom door there was nothing in there.
  4. I get passed the study room where my chairs were knocked over which leads me to believe that my house has been raided by either a survivor or worse an undead.
  5. The boiler room door is closed and I didn't intend on opening it.
  6. I creep passed the laundry room where there was nothing, but dirty laundry.
  7. I went up the stairs quietly, but quickly.  Have to be nimble.  
  8. And Now...

     Upon reaching the top stairs it was the worst sight I had ever seen.  Three zombies were standing right outside my bedroom door.  It was locked and I made a fatal error.  I didn't check my back while going up the stairs.  I heard steps behind me and turned around to see there were two adult male zombies making their way up the staircase.  In my mind I knew this could very well be the end of my journey if I didn't make every shot count.  My hockey stick was in the car and all I had was the 9mm and whatever else I can get my hands on in the house within reach.

     These two zombies were clearly athletic and would be more than capable of keeping up with my speed.  I knew I had to take them out first as the other three haven't noticed I arrived yet.  I fired down the stairs hitting one undead in the nose and it dropped to the floor in front of the other which bought me maybe five seconds to shoot ahead by creating a stumbling block.  Pippo's barks were getting louder and I knew I had to make it to my boy before this were to be our end.  I fired at the three ahead of me only hitting two and they dropped while the other now turned his attention to me and solely to me.  

     There was one zombie behind me and he is now running up the stairs.  At this point I am just in complete tears because let's face it this is the end of me with only 5 bullets left and little room to run which is my strong point.  I maneuvered into my parent's room knowing there was only one way in and out.  I slid in and pointed my gun to the door and fired directly ahead...

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Homecoming 1/3

I wasn’t always a zombie killing machine. It took a lot of time, and many, many horrible experiences to mold me into the man I am now. Fear was a piece of my skin that I had to shed a long time ago. In times like this, a man cannot afford the luxury of fear. Emotional ties also had to be severed. As I walk alone, I feel like I’m walking on a road to hell, or at least through hell. But like I said, it took a long time for me to get that first kill under my belt.

I had come home two days after the outbreak was announced. I had been away at a party out of state celebrating the New Year. The drive home was long and lonesome. I kept hearing emergency broadcasts on the radio, but there were not enough details to really understand what was going on. It seemed to me as if animals were going wild in the cities and spreading some type of infection. They kept talking about how bites and scratches spread the infection, and that we should stay away from any infected at all times. It took me about thirty miles of listening before I started to realize they were talking about people spreading this infection to other people, not animals spreading it. I really did not entirely understand what they were talking about. The details were sketchy, and the reporters seemed like they were in as much of a rush to get the hell out of the station as I was to get home. I knew I had to hurry, so I put my foot down and pushed my crumby Nissan as much as I could. I did about 110mph the entire way on the I95 until I reached my exit. Luckily there were no cops to pull me over. I honestly don’t know if that was a good or bad sign, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. My eyes and my brain were not ready for what I was about to experience.

From the highway exit to my house is only two blocks, but it was a virtual impossibility to make it the two blocks to my house. The road was absolutely littered with vehicles, trash, broken glass, cars set on fire, clothes and what looked like blood and…body parts? What in the hell happened to Crosby Avenue?! There was a fire truck overturned and blocking my way down the final block toward my house. How in the hell did this happen? My panic took over, and I did something stupid, but clearly necessary. I didn’t see any cops around, so I drove up on the sidewalk and got around the fire truck. I did about 60mph the last block toward my house, and I pulled into the driveway and screeched to a stop. My brother’s car is always parked in the driveway, but this time it was not there. Maybe he went out. After all it was mid afternoon. I saw my mom’s car parked across the street. OH NO! Is she home? Is she alone? Or worse… I can’t think about this now. I ran up the stairs and fumbled for my keys. My hands were shaking from my nervousness, and it was hard to get the key in the door. I got the front door open and slammed it shut behind me as soon as I got in. I locked the door and immediately began to call out for my mom. I was upset that I got no response. I’m screaming my lungs out and I’m getting nothing.

“Ok Ant, time to calm down and get rational. Losing your cool won’t help anything.” I grabbed my cell phone and try to call my brother. Too bad I was so focused on speeding the entire way home that I didn’t charge my cell phone in the car. What a stupid move that was. I run up to the second floor to see if maybe, just maybe, my mom decided to take a nap and was in her room. I get to her bed room, practically break the door off the hinges, and of course, nothing. I don’t know what I expected to find; my mother has never taken a nap a day in her life. This is honestly turning into the worst scenario possible. There is some type of crazy emergency being broadcasted on my car radio. I get back to the Bronx and find that it is completely ripped to shreds. I make it to my house and there is no one here, and to top it off my cell phone is dead. “MY HOUSE PHONE!” In this technological age I tend to forget we have a phone in my house also. I run over to the phone, and just before I grab it I hear a massive bang come from downstairs. “What the hell was that?!”

Saturday, February 12, 2011

It's raining again....

It seems to rain a lot lately...

Then again, you begin to notice things you never noticed before when it plays a part in your survival. Maybe it hasn't been raining a lot? Maybe this is typical New York weather, but I had better things to think about before these wastes of flesh took over. Either way, the rain seems to keep them at bay. So as far as I'm concerned, let it pour.

45 days has passed since I kissed my boyfriend goodbye, went to work and never returned home. I've been working my way back, slowly...cautiously, moving from apartment to apartment. I'm not interested in keeping these streets "clean" so to speak. I'm interested in resources; food, weapons, shelter. Not friends, allies or help. Luckily for me, I worked in a drug infested area - so weapons aren't a problem. I have learned to use and gain access to everything and anything from shotguns to pistols to switchblades and can probably shoot a beer can from 2 blocks away - if given the right sniper rifle of course.

In other words, stay the fuck out of my way.

Did I ever think I'd be this kind of girl? No. But you do what you have to do to survive. And so far, I'm doing something right.

Through it all, hope and memories are what keeps me going - hope that things go back to normal. Hope that he's waiting at home for me. I'm convinced he is. And I hope he's looking for me too.

Then again, hope only goes so far and memories fade.

And just like that, the rain stopped......