Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Another Day...

‘Please, don’t take it, it’s as good as killing me!’ She whimpered. I ignored her, stuffing what little untainted supplies she possessed in to my bag. She grabbed my bag, ‘Please! Have mercy! I…. I….. I can fuck you if you don’t take it.’ I turned to her, ‘Bitch if I wanted to fuck I would take that too. Now shut the fuck up and get out of my way, your pathetic mewling is trying my patience.’ She backed into a corner, sobbing and holding her face with her hands. People like her disgust me, not willing to defend or secure what they need with blood or their lives, no wonder the world is FUBAR right now.

After exiting the apartment complex, I started on the way back to my safe house. Pickings were fucking slim today, each day I range a little farther looking for shit, and each day I find less and less. Running so dangerously low on ammo it’s fucking ridiculous and I’ve resorted to cleaning my weapons with WD-40. Stealth is my best weapon now, best to just skirt around the less attentive ones. However the more alert “patrollers” are becoming a serious annoyance, I don’t know if it’s just me or if they really are getting smarter. Three days ago two of them nearly chased me right into the jaws of another one. I might’ve been imagining it, but I could’ve sworn they were communicating somehow. If it wasn’t for that bumbling fool who drew them away I would definitely be fucked. Maybe he wanted a friend and was trying to save me so we could survive together. He succeeded in saving me, saving himself however….. probably not.

“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.” Charles Darwin is often attributed as saying that, and even though he didn’t, that doesn’t make it any less correct. Even before the world went and got fucked, I had this philosophy. There is one constant in the universe: conflict. The weak die, the ones that can adapt, live. As for the other survivors., many of them would die. I knew that I was sacrificing them for my own ends, but that’s the way the world works. It was a cruel place, and that meant that, sometimes, I had to be crueler.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Night is the New Day - Chapter 1.2

A home is a place where you can feel safe. In this new world, homes became an endangered species.

Chapter 1.2

Cities were the worst places, for obvious reasons. So, our getaway was to small towns and their neighboring woods (sounds quaint, right?). We continued to move down south until the weather became decently warm. One of the perks of being in hell should be that you’re at least not freezing your ass off. After traveling a few weeks, we stopped near a non-descript town somewhere in the South Carolinas. Out in the surrounding woods, we found little communities built by some like-minded survivors. A new sort of economy was taking shape out there, based mostly on the barter system. I won't go into the particulars, but batteries and common flashlights became very valuable very quickly. Since we were younger than most, our agility put us into business. Daily, we would speed into towns for small supplies and leave even quicker, hoping to prey on those who hadn’t been able to let go of luxuries like toilet paper.

A challenge in the communities was to keep close, but never too close. Unfortunately, you never knew which poor neighbor had become infected and decided to keep it a secret. That was never fun: knocking someone's head off during a get together made after dinner conversations just a tad bit… awkward. We always tended to stay away from firearms during any skirmish with the infected, since the sounds would only alert others. Also, the bodies of the infected were so deteriorated that often times a good swing with a bat took care of them immediately (personally, I always prefered aluminum over wood thanks to the lighter weight and all, but some love to hear the crack of a bat on a sunny afternoon). Anyway, we kept a cordial distance from our other "friends", which served me fine. Alice was enough companionship for me.

I found her to be incredibly resourceful. Along with be able to cook and having an extensive knowledge of medicinal herbs, she also had been camping enough in her life to be able to build us a place of our own in the community. I, however, was totally incompetent. I know it sounds odd that I had so little to contribute, but it’s the truth. You would think all the tv shows, movies, and video games would have gotten me ready for this. No. Thankfully, experience is nature's best teacher. When you needed to learn something to live, your mind could become as sharp as a Harvard Grad. Shelters were important, and so were traps for food. Game varied, but you dealt with what you got-in no time, I had no problem with fried bugs and even began to crave a warm Rodent Stew. Every so often a real treat came into our area in the form of a doe. Those really tested my skills in those days, and because of the lack of firearms I had to rely almost solely on the clever snares I had set around the camp. In itself, those were like arming puzzles, which I had always loved. Each takedown brought me great pride since we always turned it into a big meal for everyone. No piece was left on the animal, and we even used the bones to fashion tools for later use. Hunting definitely became my “thing”, and I was only scratching the surface of the depths I would reach in coming months.

One night after dinner, Alice heard a sound in the woods that scared her more than the usual bumps in the night. I asked her what was wrong, but she only looked up at me with terrified eyes. After several long minutes, she explained that while she was in the hospital, she sometimes caught glimpses of people who were affected differently by the infection. Things that displayed far more gruesome attributes than the normal mutation. The noise she heard reminded her of one particular baddie. The thing (she said it couldn't be described as male or female like most infected) had horribly bruised black and deep purple skin. The purple areas were especially nasty, and she claimed that it looked so infected it hurt your eyes if they lingered too long on the spot. Its bones jutted out in odd places, and each one had a razor sharp edge. Worst of all was its jaw-it was completely slack and unhinged, but looked even more dangerous because of it. I cautiously grabbed my bat, and prepared for the worst.

*End of Chapter 1.2*

Monday, January 10, 2011

Teenage Dream

So I’m set, got food, check, got machetes, double mothafukn check, got the ray-ban tortoise black shades so that when I bump into Miss Awesome she can’t notice that I’m staring at her and I look cool and disconnected and not caring and smoother than a mothafuka J, CHECK! Now what is interesting is that in the Zombie movies and books, they focus so much on the survivors preparing themselves for survival, however, they forget to mention how boring things get once things are set. There is no cable, no cell phones, no internet, no music and yes survivors…….. no porno (Its ok, its ok, I cried too. Just let the info sink in…… you will get stronger with time). There is no Facebook, therefore no digital stalking of girls, that if they knew the amount of times you have looked at their profile they would be inclined to call the police on you for harassment. No posts on your wall by girls that clearly know your girlfriend checks that shit, with super ambiguous statements like, “It was great seeing you.” You knowing that what they are really saying in that post is “Yea I wrote this on your wall mothfucka, and yea I know she reads it. I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU DIDN’T CARE ABOUT WHAT SHE THINKS. Go ahead, be a bitch and erase this wall-post.”

After a few hours, I say fuck-it. The beautiful women in this world have been praying everyday for the chosen one to come chill with them. I can’t fight destiny, I must go out. New Addition to the Jay MF Ruez wardrobe, a bachata guitar (I call her Cutie), never know if I have to serenade Miss Awesome. Daddy is ready to go out, machetes, guitar and shades got me looking like Desperado, the Jet Li R&B singer version. Looking cooler then a mothafucka, if I do say so myself. Jumped into a Toyota Prius, hybrid (Fuck you, don’t judge me…….. men can drive small environment friendly cars J .) Turn on the car and Katie Perry’s “Teenage Dream” is blasting…… seems like whoever owned this car had good taste, Teenage Dream is the shit (Don’t judge me, J ). Drove a few blocks down and see a open liquor store, dam zombies are getting smarter setting up a trap like that for me. Drove around the block two times saw the coast was clear and decided, fuck-it. Parked the car across the street from the liquor store went in and started stocking up, Johnny Walker Blue, Rosay, Burgal (You can clean wounds with that shit), Grey Goose, Jamison, and can’t forget to stock up for my ladies, Nuvo. As I reach for that Nuvo bottle I hear some shuffling at the entrance of the store. Turn around and standing there are more than 10 zombies, staring at me. One of them had that judgmental look like, “Nuvo? For real Mang?” Old habits die hard so out of instinct I reply, “fuck you, it’s not even for me.” Gay zombie in the group gave me that Rupaul mmmhhhmmmm yea right grunt. BOOM they start running towards me. Note, in my mind I had envisioned this scenario many a time and I thought that when shit went down I was going to pull out these machetes and cut everything up like nothing. HOWEVER, all that came out was a high pitched OOOOOOOOOO SHIIIIITTTTTTT! Thank God this was a big store because I got the chance to run to the opposite of the store than ballerina spinned (Manly ballerina spin, fuck you don’t judge me) my way past the Rupal looking zombie in one of the aisles and jetted for the door. Got to the car “HAHA BITCHES, FUCK YA, CHASE ME WHILE I PLAY TEENAGE DREAM” Pat pat, where are the keys? Stop playing where are the keys! The group of zombies aren’t even running anymore they are walking up with the “WHAT HAPPENED PLAYA, YOU WAS TALKING SHIT WEREN’T YOU?” faces, the Rupaul dude looked like he was having the time of his life. VOOOM, I start jetting down the street so fast I thought my sneakers were going to catch on fire, the zombies followed suit right away with no hesitation. The Rupaul zombie was skipping yet moving along faster than all of the other zombies, made no fucking sense. I see the gated construction site that saved me last time and I jump the shit out of it again (Hold that haters, the first time was not a fluke). Turn around and start talking shit, “HAHA, what happened to all the laughing? YA WERE TALKING SHIT WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LAUGHING? SUP WITH YOU RUPAUL YOU WAS TALKING SHIT, skipping after me laughing and shit.” Zombies look at each other like oh he’s talking shit now? I start walking away “Ya lucky I’m in a good mood and I don’t machete the shit out of ya, Clink clink clink, turn around, they are over the gate!! High pitched OOOOO SHIIIITTTTTTTTTTT and I pphheeeuuummmmeeeddd out of there. Had no idea I had this kind of stamina, better question is where the fuck do they get theirs. Turn corner, turn corner, pheum pheum, turn corner, turn corner. And then out of my peripheral I notice a dodge challenger with the door open (Fuck-it lets gamble this, I am the chosen one, I know the lord left the key in the car). Michael Jackson side-spinned to the car, jumped in, THE KEY WAS THERE! Looked up and said “DADDY IS STILL HERE LADIES, Lord send the beautiful women a sign or something, salvation is still in effect!” Drove away, middle finger through the sun-roof, Teenage Dream starts blasting out the speakers as well, apparently the owner of this car had good taste too (Fuck you don’t judge me, that song is awesome)


Jay MF Ruez

Sunday, January 9, 2011

So You're Becoming An Undead...Now What?

You fancy yourself a survivor. You’ve managed to survive a good amount of time during the zombieacalypse. You’ve found a group of people, pooled your resources together and have been able to fight off the hungry hordes for quite some time. I bet you feel pretty good about yourself. You’re walking around one day and you lean back against a wall to catch a breather. Too bad your cocky ass didn’t think to check around the corner first. *CHOMP* A nice hefty bite on the forearm. You manage to get the zombie off of you and stab him in the head without making any noise and alerting your group, or worse, other zombies. But now the fun begins….what do you do?

Choice #1:

You can alert the group. Gather them all together gently and subtly and tell them the news. Apologize to them for your mistake and let those dear to you know how much you care for them. You can stay with them until you’re almost turned and then in one last heroic effort go on a zombie massacring rampage and create a diversion that allows the rest of your group to escape safely and continue to live in the wake of your epic failure! You’re a hero…in their eyes, not in mine.

Choice #2

You don’t tell anyone. You keep it to yourself and act like nothing is wrong. You slowly start to get sick and your strength fades. Your group questions you but you chalk it up to fatigue and lack of food, which we both know is NONSENSE! Your team keeps on moving and eventually gets pinned in a tight spot. Just then, your closest friend through all of this tragedy is standing next to you, turns to you and says “Man we need to get out of here!” He waits for you to respond, and when he sees your face you lunge at him and eat his! You’ve jeopardized the group and just eaten your best friend. Congratulations, jerk…

Choice #3

You isolate yourself. Spend your last minutes alone and slowly whisk away into the abyss that is the mind of a flesheater. Too much of a coward to pull the trigger yourself, and too much of a failure to comprehend why you’re in this state right now you ask someone from the group to stay with you until you’re turned. Then you have them put you out of your misery. You’ve now caused one of the people who endured all this hardship with you to have to do one of the hardest things they’ve ever had to do. They will struggle with this for the rest of their lives, however long that may be. Congratulations on ruining someone’s life even further. It’s a good thing you just got shot because I don’t know how you could live with that. Way to go champ…

There are many choices you could make in this situation; these just so happen to be the main and most common three. Another good choice would be choosing a wall to lean against that didn’t have a zombie on the other side of it! Everyone knows you check your corners first! Besides, if you’re going to lean against a wall you lean in the center of the wall or a significant distance away from any corners and doors to avoid being grabbed and bitten. Maybe next time you won’t make this mistake. Too bad there won’t be a next time…

Reality Sinks In

One week has passed since my first encounter with a woman turned zombie. I'm still a little bit disgruntled at who the turned victim was because I'll repeat it is a waste of a perfectly good woman. I now find myself having to head out to the local supermarkets to obtain food for not only myself, but Pippo (the dog).

Throughout the week I was having to move around the streets quickly, but quietly. Fortunately that wasn't much of an issue considering I got my hands on a Prius. Of course keeping the Prius moving at under 5 mph was the true move to success because as we all know a Prius under 5 mph makes absolutely no sound whatsoever. I take all the safety precautions when arriving at the supermarket.

Safety Precautions:

1) Check all the aisles first.
2) Check the offices.
3) Survey the back of the supermarket before continuing shopping.
4) Finally have yourself an alternate exit ready in the instance that a zombie does make an appearance.

*My alternate route out of the supermarket was the front-exit of the store because I don't trust back doors very much.*

Inside the supermarket I grabbed some of your everyday necessities such as: bottled water, granola bars, cereal (sadly dry due to expired milk), and for the dog his food and treats. Carried with me at all times is my 9mm with a full-clip because thank the heavens I hadn't found a reason to fire...yet. The dog was home locked inside the house because the last thing I need is for a zombie to break in desiring a four-legged snack. I started walking towards this Prius that I earlier snatched up when I took notice that two zombies who could have been no older than 13 were hovering just around the car. My thoughts, "okay screw the car it's just a Prius anyway". One would ask, why not just shoot them and get in the car? It's a Prius and so it isn't worth alerting a mob of zombies to my location by firing the gun. So it is at this time I decided I'd walk home the six blocks.

Patrolling the streets with a handgun and a bag of groceries was never an image I had of myself, but I never imagined a zombie apocalypse either. I made it home without a zombie on the street aside from those two around the Prius I had stolen. It does worry me to think that there are four buildings on my block with plenty of tenants that may or may not be zombies. When I got back home I locked up the doors and got ready to prepare a meal for myself and Pippo. He has been extremely sad during this period because he suffers from separation anxiety and it has been a week and half since my family has been home. He wasn't alone with these feelings because I was having a reality check and I missed everyone dear to me since that dreadful ball drop.

The lack of the living dead walking the streets has me thinking that they haven't figured out how to open doors. It is at this point I am starting to think I should get into my car and take a drive out of the 718 area code to see what else is happening and if there are better places to be. I'll sleep on it.