Post by Kass on Mar 7, 2009 16:20:30 GMT -7
I’ve always been afraid of heights. The simplest act of climbing a ladder would set my mind spinning with thoughts of doom. It all seems so trivial now. If I had to choose between falling off of a ladder versus the zombie apocalypse, I’d choose the former.
Now I run from rooftop to rooftop, evading and killing when I have to. I just want to get from point A to point Z in one piece. I don’t worry about the “normal” zombie that much, if you can call them that. It’s the hunters and smokers that make me on edge, especially when they can be up here with me. Sneaky bastards.
The city is so quiet now save for growls, screams, and other noises that go bump in the night. I remember when it pulsed with life. I remember when my family and friends were still alive. I remember when people and cars flooded these streets. It seems so long ago, so far away from the present that I can barely hang on to it. But I will. Because memories are the only sanity I have left.
Time to move. The less time I have to dwell on things, the better off I’ll be. I pull my hood down, retie my shoes, scan my surroundings and begin to run. I always hated running in gym class but now it doesn’t bother me so much. I take a running leap and jump across to another nearby roof. The sign outside of Mercy Hospital is about a block away. If I can make it there, I can scavenge around for some more supplies.
I hear the growls of a hunter somewhere in the night and pray I don’t run into one. Out of all the infected forms, they’re probably the ones I’d respect the most… if they weren’t trying to rip me apart limb by limb.
My rooftop route has come to a standstill. The next destination is too far of a jump. I pull out my machete and move towards the fire escape. I try to be as quiet as I can as I descend the metal stairs then curse to see that my entrance is closed. I’ll have to break the window to gain entry and more than likely gain some attention. Oh well. I’ve always enjoyed making friends.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts. After taking a deep breath and peering through the window to see any immediate threats, I bash the window in with the handle of my pistol. The floor creaks under my feet and I curse silently. I know they’re here somewhere. Their indistinct moans give them away.
I sneak out into the hall, crouching low and peering into the dimly lit hallways. They’re there at the end. That much I know for sure. I take my time getting to them. My machete gripped tightly in one hand while my other holds a pistol. I reach the first one and decapitate it but now my presence is known. A small grin forms on my face as I kick away the closest zombie, knocking it into another, before I shoot them both. It’s a small corridor and now I realize what I’ve done. They flood in like bees to honey.
I try to keep my cool and focus on eliminating as many of those bastards as I can. They’re not infinite and that’s the smallest comfort I have right now. I scream insults and taunts at them as they attempt to bite and claw away at me. I won’t go down without a fight. My machete is sailing through flesh and bone alike while my pistol fires shot after shot. I need to move. I need to get out. There’s a pile of corpses around me, making the zombies and I trip.
I use their imbalance to my advantage. My body is aching but there’s adrenaline too. I run for the nearest door, hoping that there won’t be something worse on the other side. It opens out into an alley filled with debris and a few bodies. It’s better than nothing. I half-limp, half-run and almost laugh when I see the hospital only a few buildings down from me. Granted, it’s probably crowded with the undead but it serves as hope. Someone had once told me that hope can drive a man insane but I feel as if I’ve already surpassed that point.
There are zombies milling around and I’m pretty sure I see a Smoker out in the distance. I keep behind cars, careful not to set off any alarms, and choose my shots carefully.
Now I run from rooftop to rooftop, evading and killing when I have to. I just want to get from point A to point Z in one piece. I don’t worry about the “normal” zombie that much, if you can call them that. It’s the hunters and smokers that make me on edge, especially when they can be up here with me. Sneaky bastards.
The city is so quiet now save for growls, screams, and other noises that go bump in the night. I remember when it pulsed with life. I remember when my family and friends were still alive. I remember when people and cars flooded these streets. It seems so long ago, so far away from the present that I can barely hang on to it. But I will. Because memories are the only sanity I have left.
Time to move. The less time I have to dwell on things, the better off I’ll be. I pull my hood down, retie my shoes, scan my surroundings and begin to run. I always hated running in gym class but now it doesn’t bother me so much. I take a running leap and jump across to another nearby roof. The sign outside of Mercy Hospital is about a block away. If I can make it there, I can scavenge around for some more supplies.
I hear the growls of a hunter somewhere in the night and pray I don’t run into one. Out of all the infected forms, they’re probably the ones I’d respect the most… if they weren’t trying to rip me apart limb by limb.
My rooftop route has come to a standstill. The next destination is too far of a jump. I pull out my machete and move towards the fire escape. I try to be as quiet as I can as I descend the metal stairs then curse to see that my entrance is closed. I’ll have to break the window to gain entry and more than likely gain some attention. Oh well. I’ve always enjoyed making friends.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts. After taking a deep breath and peering through the window to see any immediate threats, I bash the window in with the handle of my pistol. The floor creaks under my feet and I curse silently. I know they’re here somewhere. Their indistinct moans give them away.
I sneak out into the hall, crouching low and peering into the dimly lit hallways. They’re there at the end. That much I know for sure. I take my time getting to them. My machete gripped tightly in one hand while my other holds a pistol. I reach the first one and decapitate it but now my presence is known. A small grin forms on my face as I kick away the closest zombie, knocking it into another, before I shoot them both. It’s a small corridor and now I realize what I’ve done. They flood in like bees to honey.
I try to keep my cool and focus on eliminating as many of those bastards as I can. They’re not infinite and that’s the smallest comfort I have right now. I scream insults and taunts at them as they attempt to bite and claw away at me. I won’t go down without a fight. My machete is sailing through flesh and bone alike while my pistol fires shot after shot. I need to move. I need to get out. There’s a pile of corpses around me, making the zombies and I trip.
I use their imbalance to my advantage. My body is aching but there’s adrenaline too. I run for the nearest door, hoping that there won’t be something worse on the other side. It opens out into an alley filled with debris and a few bodies. It’s better than nothing. I half-limp, half-run and almost laugh when I see the hospital only a few buildings down from me. Granted, it’s probably crowded with the undead but it serves as hope. Someone had once told me that hope can drive a man insane but I feel as if I’ve already surpassed that point.
There are zombies milling around and I’m pretty sure I see a Smoker out in the distance. I keep behind cars, careful not to set off any alarms, and choose my shots carefully.