What makes a loner a "loner" isn't bad looks and a surly demeanor. In my case, it went like this:
Chapter 1.1
The start of this whole thing came at a unique point in my life. I had quit my dingy office job and started a new career as a writer (ironically, venting on paper now is my only reprieve from this living hell). I had even met someone new-her name was Alice. She was a nurse at Einstein Medical Center in the Bronx who was also going to MED School. Nice catch right?
At the start of the "outbreak", everyone flew in droves to the hospitals for the immunization shots. I'd seen enough movies to know that:
1) There was no immunization shots, just quarrentine zones.
2) Confined spaces were not where I wanted to be during this particular kind of crisis, even if it was a hospital.
Plus, I had a distrust of medicine-just never felt quite natural to me.
Anyways, Alice was absolutely swamped with the heavy workload and couldn't take it anymore. After the disease started to morph into something much more gruesome, she came up with the idea to run away. Since the ordeal made the months we had been together feel like years, I quickly agreed without a second thought.
Now, you might be saying to me, "But what about your family?" Unfortunately, they were already in the throes of infection, and I knew nothing could save them in time. It was the first truly hard decision I ever had to make, but it taught me a lot about myself. How heartless I could be when I had no choice.
Hard choices came quickly in this new world, and I was far from the experiencing the worse of it...
*End Chapter 1.1.*
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Don't Judge Me
From all of the zombie movies I have seen, the biggest obstacle that the white people go through is supplies (**Note I have never seen a Dominican in a Zombie Movie or book, hence I had no preparation references**). Therefore, I decided that the first stop would be my uncle’s grocery store. Now, reminder, I live in the hood. You would think that finding a gun would be easy; NOT A MOTHAFUKN ONE, not even a fucking BEEBEE gun I tell you, NOTHING. It got me questioning how we got such a high crime rate in the South Bronx. In the absence of guns, I found weapons at my mother’s house that are native to Dominicans, MACHETES. I strapped two on to my back, looking like a ninja. Looking cooler than a mothafucka if I do say so myself. Picked out a matching outfit before heading out, you never know, Miss Awesome might be waiting for Daddy to rescue her, have to look the part J. So I head out to the grocery store, looking like a ghetto super ninja. Started stocking up on canned soup, couldn’t take platanos unfortunately, cereal (Lucky Charms & Fruit Loops are my fav. Don’t judge me), and most important of all……. Vicks vapor-rub (**Note- To us Dominicans, vapor-rub is the cure for everything, fuck around and it might be the cure to this zombie problem, don’t judge me J.)
While turning the corner from the grocery store, I noticed a zombie standing in front of a Kennedy’s Fried Chicken (Not KFC, this is the ghetto one). Old habits die hard so out of instinct I say out loud, “wow, she is wack!”. In that instant, the zombie turns around and locks eyes with me, then starts sprinting. This fat bitch was running after me as if I was carrying the last donut in the world. I was Speedy Gonzalez-ing the shit out of our race because I will be damned if I was going to get killed by some chubby girl. After a few blocks, she was still not slowing down and by this time I’m panicking. The fact that I was yelling every curse word in every language I knew(which are English, Spanish [Duh], Japanese, and German. I know you didn’t expect those last two, its ok, be impressed J) wasn’t helping my stamina. I saw a gated construction site and made an Allen Iverson crossover to it and climbed that gate in one jump. Now for those haters out there that are doubting this Olympic leap I will have you know that when your life is on the line, and your dignity is in jeopardy by being eaten alive by someone you should have been able to get away from by even crawling, you might be able to jump that way too, aaaaannnnddddd I had Jordans on, the black and white Space Jams to be exact J (I know, its cheating, but fuck you it’s the apocalypse).
Apparently the lords of zombiedom gave this Jiggulypuff looking chick the ability to run like a NFL Running-back but forgot to give her jumping powers. I know zombies don’t have emotions per say but she looked super mad. I’m sure our encounter was reminiscent of the times they didn’t have her favorite ice-cream at the supermarket. Also, the fact that I was singing and dancing to my remix of David Guetta’s-Sexy Bitch, Fat Bitch by Jay Ruez. “Dam yous a fat bitch, a fat bitch” wasn't helping. Now for all the chubby joint survivors out there reading this blog, please note that I still love you, you are all in my list of impregnation so that we can save this world, don’t panic. Back to this chubby zombie, bitch tried to start a argument with me, as if we were dating or something. She could not formulate words but I have dated enough ghetto chubby joints to sense an attitude. She was giving out short grunts and looking at me with the “you aint shit and I never liked you anyways look.” And in true immature fashion, I said, “If you the shit then why can’t you jump this gate? Exactly, SHUT THE FUCK UP” (Immature I know, I know. But Fuck you, don’t judge me J). Fell asleep as soon as I got home.
Love,
Jay MF Ruez
Happy New Year?
Ball drops and you'd think that you would be welcoming a new year into the world. I, instead had to spend my New Year celebration alone and away from family as they all vacationed to visit our family in Toronto. Thankfully I had our one-year old dog, Pippo, to keep me company while everybody was celebrating. Just when I thought that my holiday was depressing because I was alone things took a further turn for the worse.
I wake up the next day aiming to go through my usual routine which commences with breakfast in front of the t/v except this day is different from the others as every t/v channel has no signal. I assumed there were technical difficulties and went on with my morning. I fed Pippo and started preparing for my daily gym session at the New York Sports Club. I had my ipod in ear and started the brief three to four minute walk to the gym. When I arrived at the NYSC entrance it was locked and all the lights were off. The only thought on my mind was, "why would it be closed without informing its clients?". Nothing led me to the reality of the events transpiring before me.
On my walk home I realized that the regular traffic in the streets is non-existent. Shocking? Yes. Though this did not phase me enough to want to figure out why.
After arriving home I decided I'd just play some FIFA on Playstation 3 to kill some time while waiting for my family to call. It's now around 2p.m. when suddenly there is a loud bang on my door which alerts my dog, myself, and anybody within 15 yards. I can't help, but think it is the postal service delivering a package. My dog is a frequent barker, but after a while he will stop except this time he doesn't seem to quiet down and so I send him downstairs.
I approach the door as anybody normally would and upon opening the door I was taken back. My knees felt weak, my hands quivering, and my heart fluttering. It was my neighbor Mary and she did not look like her normal self. She is twenty-years old with blonde hair, blue eyes, bright smile, and as fit as any twenty-year old girl can be (in a good way). Basically this girl was a ten out of ten on any day of the week. There she was standing at the bottom of the steps with no shoes on and what looked to be blood on her face, hand, shirt, and hair. So I immediately become alarmed and ask her, "Mary, what the hell happened to you?". No response from her. All she could do is stare intensely at me.
I have my dog in the background barking my ears off and here is this once beautiful girl all bloody and surprisingly still looking good. I get frustrated easily and when she didn't respond I realized it's time to shut the door. This wasn't a situation that required the police were my feelings. As I stepped back to shut the door she was still standing there grinning at me with this look on her face that would only turn on the creepiest of creeps. I moved to close the door and then it happened, she sprinted as if I were a gazelle and she were a lioness. I managed to close the door and lock it, but my experience with zombie films and games makes me realize "holy shit!". My nightmare is now a reality or is it? I didn't care as I was focused on the girl at the front of my house trying to get her lunch meal.
It was this moment now that I ran downstairs into my basement and grabbed hold of my old faithful, my hockey stick. My dog moved himself into my room and I closed him in there because he is in no way prepared for this if I wasn't the least bit prepared. My adrenaline was driven by fear and curiosity. I peered out the living room window and there she was staring at my door. All I could think was, "There is no way this is really happening. She can't be a zombie.". It was a true shame because this girl had that special thing about her. Before stepping back out there I decided to go to my roof and peer around the street to see if she was alone or if anybody else was out that could maybe explain to me what was going on. Much to my dismay there was nobody, but Mary. At this point I realized I'm going to have to kill this once beautiful girl. I grab my hockey stick and make my way down the ladder (which is on my 3rd floor and can access my roof from inside), it is very convenient.
I take a deep breath before opening the front door and grip my hockey stick as though I were ready to take a slap-shot that were to clock 120 mph. I open the door and she starts at me again as if she made it a goal of hers to have me to herself (where was this attitude 2 days ago when you weren't so blood thirsty). I push her back down the stairs with the butt of the stick and before she can get back up I run down and take a swing right at her temple. She drops hard, but I know that it's time to enact the "Double Tap-Rule #2" and continue beating on her skull. Her body now lied there motionless and full of blood from her head down to her chest. A true tragedy. I left her body there because I figured worst case scenario the cops would show up and I can explain to them what happened. Wasn't that wishful thinking?
What the hell is going on? Is my family safe in Toronto? Where are all my friends? Some of the endless thoughts running through my mind. I sure as hell wasn't going to be able to fall asleep after what I just encountered. I have to hope that I will receive answers tomorrow. As if living in this recession isn't hard enough.
---Francesco "Cardio First"
I wake up the next day aiming to go through my usual routine which commences with breakfast in front of the t/v except this day is different from the others as every t/v channel has no signal. I assumed there were technical difficulties and went on with my morning. I fed Pippo and started preparing for my daily gym session at the New York Sports Club. I had my ipod in ear and started the brief three to four minute walk to the gym. When I arrived at the NYSC entrance it was locked and all the lights were off. The only thought on my mind was, "why would it be closed without informing its clients?". Nothing led me to the reality of the events transpiring before me.
On my walk home I realized that the regular traffic in the streets is non-existent. Shocking? Yes. Though this did not phase me enough to want to figure out why.
After arriving home I decided I'd just play some FIFA on Playstation 3 to kill some time while waiting for my family to call. It's now around 2p.m. when suddenly there is a loud bang on my door which alerts my dog, myself, and anybody within 15 yards. I can't help, but think it is the postal service delivering a package. My dog is a frequent barker, but after a while he will stop except this time he doesn't seem to quiet down and so I send him downstairs.
I approach the door as anybody normally would and upon opening the door I was taken back. My knees felt weak, my hands quivering, and my heart fluttering. It was my neighbor Mary and she did not look like her normal self. She is twenty-years old with blonde hair, blue eyes, bright smile, and as fit as any twenty-year old girl can be (in a good way). Basically this girl was a ten out of ten on any day of the week. There she was standing at the bottom of the steps with no shoes on and what looked to be blood on her face, hand, shirt, and hair. So I immediately become alarmed and ask her, "Mary, what the hell happened to you?". No response from her. All she could do is stare intensely at me.
I have my dog in the background barking my ears off and here is this once beautiful girl all bloody and surprisingly still looking good. I get frustrated easily and when she didn't respond I realized it's time to shut the door. This wasn't a situation that required the police were my feelings. As I stepped back to shut the door she was still standing there grinning at me with this look on her face that would only turn on the creepiest of creeps. I moved to close the door and then it happened, she sprinted as if I were a gazelle and she were a lioness. I managed to close the door and lock it, but my experience with zombie films and games makes me realize "holy shit!". My nightmare is now a reality or is it? I didn't care as I was focused on the girl at the front of my house trying to get her lunch meal.
It was this moment now that I ran downstairs into my basement and grabbed hold of my old faithful, my hockey stick. My dog moved himself into my room and I closed him in there because he is in no way prepared for this if I wasn't the least bit prepared. My adrenaline was driven by fear and curiosity. I peered out the living room window and there she was staring at my door. All I could think was, "There is no way this is really happening. She can't be a zombie.". It was a true shame because this girl had that special thing about her. Before stepping back out there I decided to go to my roof and peer around the street to see if she was alone or if anybody else was out that could maybe explain to me what was going on. Much to my dismay there was nobody, but Mary. At this point I realized I'm going to have to kill this once beautiful girl. I grab my hockey stick and make my way down the ladder (which is on my 3rd floor and can access my roof from inside), it is very convenient.
I take a deep breath before opening the front door and grip my hockey stick as though I were ready to take a slap-shot that were to clock 120 mph. I open the door and she starts at me again as if she made it a goal of hers to have me to herself (where was this attitude 2 days ago when you weren't so blood thirsty). I push her back down the stairs with the butt of the stick and before she can get back up I run down and take a swing right at her temple. She drops hard, but I know that it's time to enact the "Double Tap-Rule #2" and continue beating on her skull. Her body now lied there motionless and full of blood from her head down to her chest. A true tragedy. I left her body there because I figured worst case scenario the cops would show up and I can explain to them what happened. Wasn't that wishful thinking?
What the hell is going on? Is my family safe in Toronto? Where are all my friends? Some of the endless thoughts running through my mind. I sure as hell wasn't going to be able to fall asleep after what I just encountered. I have to hope that I will receive answers tomorrow. As if living in this recession isn't hard enough.
---Francesco "Cardio First"
You Never Forget Your First...
I’ll never forget my first encounter with a sprinter. I don’t think I can forget any encounters with any zombies but this one in particular stands out; it was my first kill. It happened not too long after the infection spread. Most of those infected were still healthy, or as healthy as a zombie could be. This is to say they weren’t missing many major body parts. Most people had just been bitten once and then had the infection spread throughout their body. They weren’t really ripped to shreds and eaten like most bodies later on. This is mainly because in the beginning there still weren’t as many large groups of zombies, so people had the chance to get away after just being bitten. Since most people were just infected and still well fed from their normal lives they still had a lot more strength and stamina. This made running away from them that much more challenging. Damn I hate sprinters.
I was creeping my way through an area not too far from my house. It was late at night and my naivety told me traveling at night was a good idea. Later I’d come to my senses and use the daylight to my advantage, but for now I was still new at this. I don’t think you ever fully adjust to living among zombies, but for arguments sake let’s just say adjusting to these earlier days was much more difficult than life is now. Anyway, I was trying to make my way to a local supermarket to see what I could scavenge. The streets seemed empty except for one zombie about 50 yards to my right. I was hiding behind some cars and he was just standing there. He wasn’t looking around, wasn’t moving, wasn’t focusing on anything particular; he was just standing. You might ask yourself how I knew it was a zombie and not just someone standing around in the street. First of all, I don’t think in a time like this anyone would be stupid enough to just stand around the street like that. Second of all, and more importantly, the smell of a zombie is unmistakable. Something about the infection and the way it plays on the body gives off this odor that can’t be missed. It’s hard to pinpoint specifically, but the only way I can describe it is to say it just smells like death. In times like this your nose is just as important as your eyes. It took me a second too long to realize what he was doing. He was listening to the silence of the night, checking for any disturbances in the hushed quiet that was dominating this street. One misstep by me and he turned immediately. It was dark and I didn’t see the empty soda can by my foot. I kicked it and he was after me in a flash. Now I’m no athlete, but I can run when I have to. Put me in a situation with a zombie chasing me, and I’d say that’s a “have to run” situation. This zombie was faster than anyone I had ever seen. He closed the distance on me in what felt like three steps. He hadn’t caught me yet but he was getting damn close, and he was sure as hell closer than I wanted him to be by now. I was already running as hard as I could for about three blocks and my breathing was getting heavier and heavier. Meanwhile this sprinter is bounding after me jumping over cars, knocking over trash cans and barreling through anything that was between him and me. All I had weapon wise was a kitchen knife tucked away in the back of my pants and my baseball bat. I didn’t own a gun and contrary to popular movie beliefs there aren’t that many gun stores around for me to go raid and come safely back to my home. Besides shooting a gun in a quiet street was only going to draw more attention to me anyway. The bat unfortunately for me was becoming more of a hindrance as I was trying to outrun this speed demon on my tail. I knew my fatigue was only going to make this situation worse and the longer I ran the more tired I was going to get. I knew I wouldn’t outrun this thing for much longer, and hiding was not an option. So, I did what I had to. I ran a few more steps and then came to a dead stop. I turned around and charged straight at the sprinter. One of us was going to die tonight, that was for sure. I knew damn well I wasn’t going to let anything kill me; not so early into all this damn mess. I ran straight back towards him and at the last possible second I stepped to the side and swung my bat straight into his ribs. I could hear them crack on impact and the zombie practically flipped head over heels. He was already on his knees getting back up as I ran over to him. Before he got up any further I took a swing with every ounce of strength I had in me and drove my bat straight across his forehead. It split open and I watched his neck snap back and then flail loosely to the side. His body dropped in a heap, and aside from a few last little twitches he was a goner. I knew the noise would attract attention and I didn’t have a good enough idea of what was around me to want to stick around. I ran back to my house and figured I was going to just spend the night without eating. I didn’t have much of an appetite after that anyway. I learned two valuable lessons that night. The first lesson was not to travel at night anymore. The darkness is too much of a handicap and even the littlest obstacles such as a damn soda can have to be accounted for. Second, sprinters are damn fast and I never ever want to run into, or run from, another one again. This was my first kill, and it felt damn good. What was happening to me?
I was creeping my way through an area not too far from my house. It was late at night and my naivety told me traveling at night was a good idea. Later I’d come to my senses and use the daylight to my advantage, but for now I was still new at this. I don’t think you ever fully adjust to living among zombies, but for arguments sake let’s just say adjusting to these earlier days was much more difficult than life is now. Anyway, I was trying to make my way to a local supermarket to see what I could scavenge. The streets seemed empty except for one zombie about 50 yards to my right. I was hiding behind some cars and he was just standing there. He wasn’t looking around, wasn’t moving, wasn’t focusing on anything particular; he was just standing. You might ask yourself how I knew it was a zombie and not just someone standing around in the street. First of all, I don’t think in a time like this anyone would be stupid enough to just stand around the street like that. Second of all, and more importantly, the smell of a zombie is unmistakable. Something about the infection and the way it plays on the body gives off this odor that can’t be missed. It’s hard to pinpoint specifically, but the only way I can describe it is to say it just smells like death. In times like this your nose is just as important as your eyes. It took me a second too long to realize what he was doing. He was listening to the silence of the night, checking for any disturbances in the hushed quiet that was dominating this street. One misstep by me and he turned immediately. It was dark and I didn’t see the empty soda can by my foot. I kicked it and he was after me in a flash. Now I’m no athlete, but I can run when I have to. Put me in a situation with a zombie chasing me, and I’d say that’s a “have to run” situation. This zombie was faster than anyone I had ever seen. He closed the distance on me in what felt like three steps. He hadn’t caught me yet but he was getting damn close, and he was sure as hell closer than I wanted him to be by now. I was already running as hard as I could for about three blocks and my breathing was getting heavier and heavier. Meanwhile this sprinter is bounding after me jumping over cars, knocking over trash cans and barreling through anything that was between him and me. All I had weapon wise was a kitchen knife tucked away in the back of my pants and my baseball bat. I didn’t own a gun and contrary to popular movie beliefs there aren’t that many gun stores around for me to go raid and come safely back to my home. Besides shooting a gun in a quiet street was only going to draw more attention to me anyway. The bat unfortunately for me was becoming more of a hindrance as I was trying to outrun this speed demon on my tail. I knew my fatigue was only going to make this situation worse and the longer I ran the more tired I was going to get. I knew I wouldn’t outrun this thing for much longer, and hiding was not an option. So, I did what I had to. I ran a few more steps and then came to a dead stop. I turned around and charged straight at the sprinter. One of us was going to die tonight, that was for sure. I knew damn well I wasn’t going to let anything kill me; not so early into all this damn mess. I ran straight back towards him and at the last possible second I stepped to the side and swung my bat straight into his ribs. I could hear them crack on impact and the zombie practically flipped head over heels. He was already on his knees getting back up as I ran over to him. Before he got up any further I took a swing with every ounce of strength I had in me and drove my bat straight across his forehead. It split open and I watched his neck snap back and then flail loosely to the side. His body dropped in a heap, and aside from a few last little twitches he was a goner. I knew the noise would attract attention and I didn’t have a good enough idea of what was around me to want to stick around. I ran back to my house and figured I was going to just spend the night without eating. I didn’t have much of an appetite after that anyway. I learned two valuable lessons that night. The first lesson was not to travel at night anymore. The darkness is too much of a handicap and even the littlest obstacles such as a damn soda can have to be accounted for. Second, sprinters are damn fast and I never ever want to run into, or run from, another one again. This was my first kill, and it felt damn good. What was happening to me?
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