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?
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