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?
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
*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?”
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
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
- I entered the kitchen through the backdoor and noticed nothing was touched.
- Passing through the kitchen I heard a bang from upstairs. It is at this point my hear rate is at its peak.
- Moving passed by bathroom door there was nothing in there.
- 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.
- The boiler room door is closed and I didn't intend on opening it.
- I creep passed the laundry room where there was nothing, but dirty laundry.
- I went up the stairs quietly, but quickly. Have to be nimble.
- And Now...
Sunday, February 13, 2011
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
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......