I'm Bored 2/2

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?

It's Been A Long Day

Cray and I looked down the long corridor. After everything that had taken place in the last 24hours, a dark corridor was the last place we wanted to walk down. However, since it was Edie's apartment building, the hesistancy seemed to fade rather quickly. Then, as I thought about what we had just been through, my anxiety rose a little. I'm sure Cray had the same feelings as she looked at me, as if to say 'I'm waiting for you to walk first.' I took a breath and slowly started down the hall. I clutched the key Edie had given me, as I carefully listened for any sound other than our footfalls and breathing.

Finally, we made it to the end of the hall where her apartment was. I quickly inserted the key and entered, Cray right on my heels. We closed the door and as the last lock clicked into place, we finally felt safe.

The place looked as if no one had lived there for a while. Everything was perfectly untouched, serene in this quiet little loft. Cray and I were almost afraid of putting our things down because it seemed we might disturb the peace.

Cray dropped her bags and heaved a sigh of release. "Well that was an interesting day, let's get to work". We proceeded to dump our bags in her living room and head to her home office. She had given us instructions to look up and contact some people in her circle of peers, as well as grab some files she said were key to "what would happen next". Cray and I didn't question the "what would happen next." I honestly could say I didn't want to know, but I trusted Edie. If she gave us these instructions then what was coming was good, right? Just as the question popped into my brain, my cell went off. It was Edie. "Hey! We made it in... whoa, slow down... uhuh, uhuh..." Cray looked at me quizzically and mouthed 'what's wrong'. Guess my face shared the uneasy feeling that was building in my gut with every word Edie uttered. I hung up the phone and looked at her. "Change of plans. We need to grab everything you think is valuable, all the information she had wanted initially, and then we have to..." I had to pause, cause what I was about to say was ludicrous. "Have to what?" "We, umm, she said we had to burn this place down". Again, Cray shot me a very quizzical look, then simply said, "well where does she keep her matches, cause this place is huge!" On that note, we got to work.

I'm Bored 1/2

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!

Who's On the Menu?

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....