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?!”