A flash of light was the only thing that lit up the stormy night in the worn down city. There were no lights, no energy at all, the city was dead. It had been three weeks since it had begun, three weeks of horror. Now time had use only from when the sun came up to when the sun came down. It was all a race against time to do what needed to be done in a day.
Low moans could be heard on and off throughout the city, the only noise that could be heard any more. It was the sign of the infected, the ones that didn't survive the apocalypse, or the time ensuing. The stench of rotten flesh was forever stuck in the air. For those that weren't used to it by now, they would have instantly started gagging. It was now a land of un-dead, re-animated corpses that fed on the living. A more simple term that one would use- Zombie....
The sky began to light up. It was morning, but still not much living movement. Those that were alive were either out of the city by now or were hiding. Long, deep shadows were cast by large buildings that were once filled with life; now they were nothing more than a quiet tomb.
Alone in a room sat a young man, in Room 47, the door at the end of the right side on the third floor of a five-story apartment complex. He was awake. He always woke up a half-hour before the sun rose, and he would always be back before the sun would set. He was 22 years old, a country kid that moved to the city. This is his story, the way it ended, or maybe the way it had begun.
He gave a heavy sigh, looking out of the window from his apartment building. It was relatively dark outside, but that didn't change much. His eyes had adjusted to it, and he could see the slow movements of the re-animated corpses below. There were only about two separate packs of them in the street, though they were decently spread out. They weren't like most movies would say they would be. Most of them were slow moving and would attack in numbers, like a pack of wolves. Then there were the runners. He had run into five of them only yesterday in a pack. It was the closest call he had had yet during the infection. He looked over to the wall beside the window.
Resting against it was his best friend, and his lifeline in these times-a .22 Bullpup Walter G22 Rifle w/ Scope, shoulder strap, and bi-pod mount. Some would probably think it was stupid to use such a low caliber weapon against the un-dead, but it served its purpose. The head or the throat, the two main kill shots for zombies, no heavy caliber was required for it. He put his hand on the forehand grip, lifting it up from its current position and using his left hand to widen the shoulder strap before slinging it over is left shoulder. He ran his hand down the strap to make sure it was tight enough, then put his hand toward his gut what looked like a fanny pack was sitting there, a small ammo belt containing five more clips of ammo for the rifle, 10 rounds for every clip. His hand went down to the left side of his hip. Strapped to his belt was a holster, containing a .22 revolver. The reason for the low caliber weapons was because he used to hunt squirrel. He liked being outdoors.
He slowly stood up, turning to the left and heading towards the door. Nothing could be heard on the other side. The hallways were all cleared out by him, so he wouldn't have to worry about one of them sneaking up on him from behind. He unlocked the dead-bolt on the door before lightly placing his right hand on the knob, turning it and placing his hand on the revolver holster, just in case. He slowly pushed the door open and looked down the hall. Nothing was there, it was clear. He slowly walked out of the room, closing the door once clear of it and making sure it was shut. After this, he proceeded down the hallway toward the stairs. He knew nothing was going to come out of the doors. The zombies hadn't yet learned how to open them. As he reached the stairs he finally pulled out the revolver, not trusting the two floors below enough to just walk down.
He slowly moved down the stairs, keeping to the edge and looking below him. He didn't see any movement below. He turned as the staircase turned and continued to move down, heading towards the landing on the second floor, stopping a few feet before he reached it.
He edged towards the wall, slowly moving his head out and looking around the corner. It was only light enough to see outlines and a slight bit of detail. He could see no outline of a human body, or anything else as a matter of fact, but three doors that were opened down the hall. These doors he kept open to run into if he needed to get away from a runner or buy some time. He looked down the other way. Nothing was there either, just an empty hall with no opened doors or anything of the sort. A dead silence had set in.
He gave a light sigh as he came out of the staircase and moved to the right. After six steps he turned to face another set of stairs. It went down to the first floor. He carefully took each step down, a light pitter-patter made by his shoes against the tiled stairs. He was about halfway down the current set of stairs before he heard it, the thing that most people would begin to flip out to now. It was the low moan of an infected. Another followed this low moan. There were multiple infected on the floor below, but how many was the question.
The man brought the gun up slightly, cupping his right hand and placing it under the left hand gripping the gun. This would greatly help in the aiming process, keeping him steady and reducing the muzzle recoil as much as possible. He feared he would have to fight his way out of the place again. He reached the halfway point on the stairs, spinning 180 degrees with his back to the current wall in front of him and slowly shuffling his feet to the left, looking down the rest of the stairs to see what he was up against. It was slightly brighter below. The reception area had many windows for people to look in. From his position, he counted four of them, but that was likely far from the total amount.
He slowly moved forward, placing his left foot first down on the stairs, slowly putting weight on it and lifting up his right, moving it and lightly placing it on the step below the one his left was on, trying to be as quiet as possible. He knew this would only get him so far, but if he could get down to the landing he could likely move out of the building without much more trouble, saving ammo and potentially leading the zombies out of the area so they wouldn't bother him later on. He hated to try moving their bodies so that they didn't completely stink up the place. He took it one step at a time, moving closer and closer to the landing of the first floor. The one on the far left was looking out towards the street. They were all spaced out, probably three to five feet in between each. The one behind the first was looking the opposite direction, toward the door that led into the management area but was partially blocked by the other undead in front of him, which had his head slightly bowed down. The last was just standing with his back to the staircase. Luckily, they didn't really notice him yet.
As his right foot reached down for the next step, there was a light crunching noise. He had just stepped on something. He froze in his position, his eyes stuck on the undead below him. The one that was staring to the end of the hall had now turned its head as best it could to look up the stairs, his upper body slightly moving with it. The left side of its face was torn open. The muscle and ligament could be seen and the eyeball in the right eye socket was missing. It gave out a light and quick moan which alerted the others to its new find-fresh meat. They turned their attention to him. The one that first spotted him had begun to slowly move his feet around to face the stairs. The one that had its head bowed still stood in his position, not moving at all, which greatly alarmed Ezekiel.
Ezekiel didn't want to wait any more. He aimed his revolver to the head of the one that still was trying to turn around, the closest one to him, and slowly squeezed on the trigger. The hammer was brought back on the gun before quickly going forward. A loud bang rang through the buildings and into the outside, alarming all undead within a block of his current position that there was food. Low moans could be heard. The hunt had begun. They were all going to begin to move, individually at first, but as they gathered together they would act as a group, slowly coming after their prey.
Back inside the building, the body of the one closest fell, a small bit of brain matter spraying out as it fell forward like a sack of coal. One down and three to go. He moved forward now, not wanting to stay there. He knew he would be in much more trouble soon enough now. He aimed at the one in the way of his heading into the lobby, firing off a round into the side of its head, its neck flicking to the side as the round hit it and it fell. The small round had only enough power to kill them with a head or neck shot, and that was all he ever aimed for. He jumped the last four steps and hit the ground in a light jog, almost heading right for the one that had its full attention to him now. He jumped slightly and quickly brought up his foot, slamming it against the slow moving corpses chest, throwing it back and to the ground. It was faster than shooting it and allowed him a little more digression. He turned his head to look at the zombie who had finally raised its head. Its eyes were white and the skin over the right side of its jaw was missing, showing off the bone and teeth, its mouth opening slightly as if to say something, but not moving at all. Ezekiel knew what was about to come.
“You have got to be kidding me,” were the first words out of his mouth this day, turning his head and quickly looking the other way to make sure he could get out.
Three more undead littered the way, but they were far enough apart for him to move with ease. He turned his entire body and holstered his pistol, flicking his let hand on the clip of the holster and locking it back into place before his right hand grabbed onto the strap for his rifle, pulling it from his shoulder as he began to run down the hall. He quickly moved to the left to dodge the first zombie's capable reach. He continued to run, getting past the second by the time he had his left hand on the grip, his index finger over the trigger guard and firmly placing the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, the barrel aiming down and to the right. He moved to the right and passed by the third zombie, reaching the front doors and going through the broken glass. He clomped his feet on the ground as he slowed down quickly, coming to a stop five steps later, and looking from left to right.
On his right side, the road was beginning to become littered with the undead that heard the dinner call, meaning it would be impossible for him to go that way. To the right they were beginning to move in as well, but that side was closest and they were still only starting to gather, meaning he had a chance to move. He turned and went into a run once more. He was going to turn right off the road and try going off to a street halfway down the block.
As he ran down the street he could hear the fast moan behind him, a little bit like a yell. As he looked over his shoulder, knowing what was coming after him. The zombie that had been inside of the building before came running out after him. Now it was running behind him like a maniac, almost seeming like it should have fallen with every step. It kept on pushing forward after its prey. He let go of his gun with his right hand, digging into his right pants pocket and pulling out a folded up 4” pocket knife and opening it with his teeth, slowing down into a jog. As the zombie got closer to him he did a quick spin around and slid back slightly, then raising his hand up and having the blade for a downwards stab, he lunged forward and put all of his force behind the strike, planting the blade to the hilt in the running zombie's forehead. He let go of it before pushing the body away with the gun, stopping and regaining his composure for a moment before turning once more and running. He didn't want to be caught. He needed to get out of there before anything else happened. He had left his book bag inside of the building. It had the two .22 LR ammo and some other needed supplies. He was going to have to abandon it for now, leaving him at a disadvantage when it came to ammo and close combat weapons.
He reached the corner and ran around it, his eyes widening slightly at what was in front of him. A group of roughly twenty or so undead were slowly moving forward, and they were no more than 25 yards away. They would be hard to get past. “Out of twenty...” he whispered to himself, doing the math in his head of the chances of having three or more runners in their group. It was too much of a risk for him. He would have to start shooting rounds off soon, and that would bring more trouble than wanted, but he was ready for it. He looked off to the side. About 15 yards up there was an alley off to the left side of the street. It was his only chance. He went into a light jog, his eyes roaming over to the group. He would be fine for now, as long as there weren't many in the alley. He would have to risk it. He went around the corner, quickly bringing up the rifle to look down the scope, both eyes wide open and looking down the alley as he went down it. He would have to aim and watch out at the same time. Eight of them were down the alleyway, all of them at different places, and then there were an additional three at the end of the alleyway. He would have some fun. He aimed to his right, only taking two seconds to get the shot lined up in his scope before pulling the trigger. The first round went off and was planted through the zombie's nasal cavity.
His aim went to the second one, pulling the trigger prematurely and having it go off and hit the side of the neck, a bit of coagulated blood flying out as it moved slightly from the hit. Without giving another moment he moved the rifle an inch over and shot it right through the throat, going through the back of the neck and sticking onto the wall. He aimed further down to the left, taking at least five more seconds to line up the shot before pulling the trigger. The round went through the temple. He ran down the alley way now. The rest were further down, and he didn't have the time to worry about it much more, the groups were going to get up behind him soon enough, and he would be damned if he were to die here.
He stopped halfway down the alley, taking aim at another's head and pulling the trigger, but it only clicked. He quickly pulled the trigger again. The same thing happened the second time. “Crap!” He yelled rather loudly as he brought his right hand back to the breach and pulling back. The dud round was ejected and a new replaced it as he let go, putting his hand back on the forehand grip. He aimed once more and fired off the round. This time the gun sang as it did as he pleased, the round tearing into the zombie's head with ferocity at the temple and brain matter flying. He ran a little farther down the alleyway, but soon found himself in a predicament. At the end of the alleyway there were more coming down now. He was trapped.
He moved the gun from his shoulder and looked from side to side, seeing a fire escape. He began to move quickly, taking his left hand off of the gun and moving it through the sling once more. He tossed it behind his back, and jumping as best he could, planted his foot on the wall before thrusting upwards with all of his strength to reach the fire escape. His hand reached up to grab it. Unfortunately, it was three inches away when he came back down and crouched. Cursing rather loudly at it, he turned and looked from left to right. They were closing in on him. He was screwed if he didn't do something fast. He saw a trash can not far away. Quickly moving over to it and lifting it up, it had a horrible stench, but he would deal with it.
He placed it under the fire escape and got on top of it, not worrying if it did or didn't hold his weight as he jumped up and grabbed the fire escape with both hands. The ladder pulled down under his weight as he then began to climb up. The zombies were getting closer, but they were already too late. He pulled himself up onto the platform and looked down to the ladder. They didn't know how to climb, but he wasn't going to take the chance. He got hold of the rope to the ladder that was used to pull it back up after drills and pulled it up some before tying it off. He turned his attention to the stairs he would now have to climb, looking up to see how many stories he would have to go. It looked like he would be going at least ten stories up to get to the top, but he didn't care, as long as he could get away. He began to climb up, going for the top, and from there he hoped he could then get to a staircase to get to the front of the building. That would be much easier. As he continued to climb up he pulled the rifle from his shoulder once more, holding the forearm grip with his left hand, with the barrel pointing up. He grabbed onto the clip that was currently in, pushing a button on the side to release it and pulling it out. He then put his hand further down on the stock, pulling out the spare clip and using it to replace the one he had pulled out. He stuck the one with only 3 rounds left in his pocket.
He moved up the fire escape as fast as possible, wanting to get over with this as soon as possible. He had a full day ahead of him. It took him roughly two minutes to move up the fire escape, breathing heavily afterward. He looked at the roof in front of him. There were some plants and other small items lying about, clotheslines with shirts and bed sheets still on them. It was untouched by the carnage below, except for the fact that nothing had been taken care of. He moved across the roof, looking from side to side for the door, finding it to his right and moving toward it.
As he reached it he moved his hands around on the rifle, his finger being over the trigger guard once more as he placed it against his shoulder, aiming at the door as he placed his hand on the knob, twisting it to see if it would open. Luckily, it was unlocked and he pushed it open, his hand moving back to the forehand grip, as his eyes roamed through the darkness behind the door. The light coming in from the side was not enough to see in well, a pitch-black darkness awaited him if he entered. It was the worst possible place to be right now.
He gave a heavy sigh, standing straight up and letting his rifle barrel go down, the barrel pointing down and to the right as he moved the gun slightly away from his shoulder. “You have got to be kidding me,” he moaned slightly as he looked down the stairway a few more moments before bowing his head down, taking in a deep breath and giving out a heavy sigh before raising his head and looking to the sky above.
The clouds were broken up, and the sun was coming up, giving everything light. It felt warm against his face. It was one of the simple pleasures he couldn't enjoy as of late. He closed his eyes and stood there for a few more moments, taking in all of his options and weighing them before opening his eyes and looking down the stairs once more. “It looks like you are going to have to wait a little bit,” he spoke to it, meaning that he wasn't going to take that route just yet.
He reached his hand in and closed the door before turning to the side and walking over to the edge of the building. Looking down to the ground below, he was far too high up to try making any kind of rope and repel down. He continued to walk around the edge of the building, looking at the ground below. He was looking for an alternate escape route, and he was beginning to wish he had brought more with him than what he currently had. He gave a heavy sigh when he had reached the latter, looking down at the undead moving below. Both sides of the alley way were blocked off. The zombies had flooded into the alleyway and were currently all lost, or so it seemed. He moved back over to the door, looking at it a few more moments before sighing heavily and putting his hand on the doorknob
“God, don't fail me now,” he whispered as he held up his rifle and slowly moved forward. His eyes darted left and right through the darkness. He was leaning against a wall as he took every step, not wanting to fall down any time. He felt something soft being stepped on under his right foot. Pointing his gun down quickly, he tried to see through the darkness, which his eyes were still getting used to. It wasn't as dark as he had thought, but it was still quite bad if he went up against more than two of them at a time. He couldn't tell what he had stepped on, and decided not to try anything. He continued down the stairs slowly as his feet met floor.
He knew it could be one of three things. Either this was the floor below or a halfway point in between floors, or it could possibly mean that this staircase was completely enclosed. He felt around a bit with his right hand. The darkness was getting worse. He felt that it was probably the last one. He took hold of the gun with his right hand as he let go with his left, digging it into his pocket. He pulled out a brass lighter and flicked it open, striking it a few times. It finally came to life with a small flame.
He lifted it up and moved it from left to right, trying to see what he could from the glow. Sure enough it was an enclosed staircase, witch meant things would be a little easier for him to move about. He set down the lighter before putting his left arm through the strap once more, getting the rifle behind his back and withdrawing the revolver from its holster. He picked the lighter back up with his right hand and turned around, getting his bearing quickly before moving on to go down the stairs, holding the lighter in front of him with his pistol up. He didn't need to start shooting at shadows, unless they were moving quickly. He wasn't going to get taken out in this place.
He slowly moved down the stairs, taking his time not to fall or let the lighter go out. He had gone down what must have been five floors when he stopped. The door to the right of the stairs was open, something he wished wasn't. He slowly moved forward, looking around quickly to make sure there were no undead down the stairs a little further before his gaze went back to the door. It was only partially open, and there was some light coming from behind, though it was quite dim. He figured it could be daylight, but was also curious why this was the only door so far that he had seen open, so he moved forward.
He used the knuckles of the hand holding the lighter to slowly push it open, now aiming the revolver forward, not wanting to be caught off guard by some undead. As he got the door the rest of the way open, he could see three doors down the hall were open. At the end of the hall there was a window that was letting the light in, but then the others had none. He moved slowly towards it. Stopping only a few feet away he heard something move around inside of the room. He edged towards the door now, flicking the top of the lighter over the flame, extinguishing it before using the hand to push the door open a little more. As he did he heard a bit more rustling before it stopped.
He pushed the door open a little more before bringing his hand back. He got his right hand in a cup under the grip of the revolver and his hand, that way he could take a steady shot. He hugged his back against the wall, leaning mover and peering into the room. He didn't see anything. He slowly turned his body and moved into the doorframe, trying to peer around the corner and quickly pulling his head back. A bat came crashing down to the floor. He was startled by what he had seen. A woman had been standing there with the bat over her head and she swung down as he had put his head completely in. She pulled it back as if getting ready for another attack.
“Wait, I am human!!” He yelled from his position, hoping she would listen. It was silent for a long time, as if time itself had stopped in the building. What followed next had surprised him. The young woman moved slowly form the side to be in front of him in the doorframe, looking up to his face in a cold stare, as if trying to decide whether or not to still bash his head open.
He took his right hand away from the gun, his left still holding it but by his side. “Hello there,” he said quietly. He didn't have such occasions every day. The last group he was with died after only a few days. They were stupid to waste ammo and try to run through an area of the undead. He stayed behind, having business still in this city, as well as the fact that he didn't see much reason to get out, no matter where they went. It was all the same.
The woman suddenly lunged forward, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her head into his gut, sobbing heavily. He was confused about it. It was quite a sudden change, but he put his left arm behind her back and his right hand rested behind her head.
“It is alright... You are not alone... But it would be a good idea to move,” he said quietly, not knowing if she could hear him now. He lightly rubbed her back to console her further, which didn't have any effect. She quieted down and after a few minutes she moved away. Her eyes were red and puffy. She paused for a moment, sniffing slightly. Her nose was running.
“I thought I was going to die soon,” she said in a quiet yet higher voice. She had to be at least 17-18, he thought.
He smiled softly. “It is alright now.”
He paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to best move this situation. An idea popped into his head. “My name is Ezekiel, and right now I need you to follow me out of this place, alright?” He moved his hands away from her.
She lightly nodded her head, wiping her eyes with her arm before looking at him.
He smiled. “We are leaving now. Don't worry about anything other than the weapon in your hands, and your own health. Stay close to me.”
He moved into the room for a moment to see what was making the light. It was a lamp. Scattered across the room were cans and wrappers. She had survived by getting the canned goods out of the others rooms. Beside the lamp was an emergency crank flashlight.
He walked over to it, holstering the revolver and shoving the lighter back in his pocket before picking up the flashlight and clicking the button. It was currently dead. He flipped out the crank while walking back out of the room and looking at her, beginning to spin it around and charge up the battery inside.
“You did well in surviving. Let's get you out of here quickly,” he said. After two minutes of cranking as quickly as he could, he flicked it back into place and pushed the button on the flashlight. It worked like a charm. He had her follow him the rest of the way down the stairs before finding their way to the front of the building, so far no more zombies. It seems that they had all followed the crowd around back, hunting him down. He turned off the flashlight and walked outside, getting his rifle ready once more.
Ezekiel led the young woman down the street, continuing on his daily routine, on the way down he had explained to her that he was currently going out for some supplies and more ammo. As he turned a road he saw the street littered with undead, none of them were grouped, but spread out. He looked over to her before giving a light sigh; he couldn’t lead her through that. As he turned the other way he could see a few more down the street, two of them were just staring right back, he didn’t like the look of things. One of them opened their mouth, letting out a low set moan.
Soon nearly every zombie down the street had straitened slightly in attention and turned towards the moan, and in effect seeing the two standing there. Ezekiel looked back to her and then over to the now slow moving group of zombies, he didn’t like the looks of this, they were getting organized now, and he felt it wasn’t over yet. He began to move down the other way of the street, away from the large group. The woman followed him, keeping up as they began to jog. Soon there was a louder moan and through the group ran roughly eight runners, coming up after them. Ezekiel looked to the woman, she didn’t have much of a chance against them, and he would have to deal with it. “Keep on running until you get to the end of the street. If you can move three blocks to the east and head into the white apartment complex. Go up the third floor and into the room at the end of the hall on the right.”
He stopped where he was, her jogging past him and up the road a little bit before stopping, looking back at him “What are you doing?” She cried out to him. He turned his head back to her for a moment, smiling slightly “Saving your life…” He said loud enough for her to hear before turning his attention back to the horde. He raised his rifle up and began firing shots, emptying the clip quickly and pulling it out, replacing it with another. The woman began to run once more, trying to get to the end of the street.
As she got to the end and turned, she stopped in her tracks, a group of only 15 zombies stood there, moving towards them. She began to run towards it, moving off to the side of the street and running past, heading the way she told him. She didn’t know what was to become of the man that saved her, but he did.
He finished off the second clip and moved on to the third, looking at the slow moving group in front of him, he had killed off the runners, at least the first few that came out. There was no way out of it, he was covered on both sides now, and he didn’t see any alleyways to move into. He gave a heavy sigh; this was the end for him. He hoped the woman was able to get away with his sacrifice, something that most likely no other man would do now. He brought the rifle up and began to fire rounds again; three rounds went off before it clicked.
He pulled back on the breach and tried firing another, it cracked to life as another round went off, but then the breach stayed open, he hadn’t filled the clip up all of the way. He looked behind him, not much time left. He dropped the rifle and took out his revolver, opening the side cover and rolling the cylinder, two rounds were left, he just needed one. He ejected the rest of the empty shells before spinning the cylinder, closing the side cover and placing it to the side of his head. “I will not become one of you.” The last thing he said before he pulled the trigger…
Click, the gun didn’t do anything. Click, the gun still didn’t come to life. Click, What was taking so long? Click, shouldn’t it have fired by now? Click..
“What in the?” He yelled as he pulled the trigger one last time, it didn’t fire. He cursed loudly and pointed the gun at a zombie and pulled the trigger, it kicked slightly as the round went off, going strait into the zombies face. He looked at the gun, wondering why it didn’t fire until now. The undead were within 10 meters of him now; he wouldn’t be able to get away no matter how hard he tried.
Suddenly everything became weird, the sound of a vehicle coming down the street could be heard, he turned to look, but couldn’t see anything over the heads of the undead, soon gunfire tore through the group, it was a heavy caliber round, It was military humvee’s. He watched as the MG tore through the crowds. He watched for a few moments before turning around and looking at the group closing in on him, it seemed there was still a glimpse of hope, a last chance of survival. He knelt down to try and avoid the incoming gunfire, the undead were getting torn apart. Soon the gunfire stopped, but as he got up he couldn’t hear much of anything, his ears were ringing from the gunfire. As he turned to look at those that saved him there were soldiers running up, three of which had their guns pointed at him and gas masks on. He raised his hands up in the air and dropped the pistol, he was alive and kicking, and it was all thanks to the military. As he slowly walked foreword he began to hear again, one of the soldiers were yelling at him to stand still, which he now did. “I am Ezekiel, A survivor of the infection. I have not been bitten, scratched, or infected.” He spoke loudly to them, but it seemed that they weren’t paying attention to his words.
They continued to point their guns at him, but soon two men in hazmat suits came out of the vehicle, one of them holding a rifle and aiming it at him, the other beginning to pull out a stretcher. The last thing he felt was a stinging in his chest as he was struck by a dart, fleeting thoughts going through his head as his knees hit the ground, his eyes blurred and uncoordinated, finally falling to the side with no ability to control himself. The last thought he had was of that woman he saved, and if she would be all right.
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