Zombiez

Don't you love Jerry's Zombie Face?

I took a swig of the whiskey and put the flask back into my coat pocket. If I was going to die today, I might as well die with a good little buzz going on. I'd never used a gun before and that's what everyone else was using to fight them off. I kept a knife in my pocket and a metal baseball bat in hand. I heard one approaching and I could feel a chill on my neck. I turned around, brought the baseball bat above my head, and swung it down on the zombie's skull. It fell to the ground immediately and I raised the baseball bat again. Blood squirted onto my brown leather jacket as I crushed it's head. More would be here soon and I still couldn't find shelter. I couldn't find Jerry or James either and I wasn't sure if searching for them was a good idea or not. I stood in the parking lot of the grocery store, debating on whether or not I should venture inside. Looking across the street I saw a four year old little girl's arms and legs be torn off her body by four of them. I said a quick prayer for her, hoping she wouldn't suffer long. Fuck it. I was going in the store. I wanted a cigarette. I pushed open the door and stopped after the door closed after me. I looked around. The store was well lit and appeared to be empty. But come on, you've seen zombie movies. Of course it couldn't be empty. I could smell rotting flesh, but very faintly. I heard a screech in the back of the store and I strode towards the sound, my bat firmly gripped in my hands. I moved through the aisles quickly, the blood pumping loudly through my head. I saw it as I turned the corner and went to swing my back when there were a couple loud pops and the zombie fell over on the ground, a pool of blood seeping from it's head. I looked up the next aisle to see Jerry standing there with a gun in his hand.
"Thanks Jerbear." I grinned at him and took 3 long strides toward him to give him a big hug.
"What are you doing in here?" he started to ask me, but I answered his question when smashed the glass casing in front of the cigarettes. I pulled out two packs of Turkish Royals and tossed him one.
"Shit." I searched my pockets and realized I didn't have a light. "You got one?" Jerry shook his head and I went searching through the store to find a lighter. God, there was nothing more irritating. Not having a cigarette was bad enough. Having a cigarette with nothing to light it with was fucking torture. I spotted a box of matches behind the counter. I turned behind the counter and my foot caught on something and I fell. Right on top of a dead man. He wasn't a zombie and I rolled off of him and looked at his vacant eyes. "What the....?" I muttered softly as I tried to figure out how he died. It looked like he just laid down and died. But with what has been going on these days I would know better. I searched his pockets and found a lighter (thank god), and fifty bucks. The money was useless though. I used the dead man's light and tossed it to Jerry who was looking at comic books. "Quit goofin around," I said to him after taking a drag. "We still have to find shelter."
I heard a moan and I looked down to see the dead man stirring. Apparently he was not so dead. I pulled out my knife and held it in my right hand with my baseball bat in my left. I backed away from him and he started to stand. "For Christ's sakes, Becki! Kill it!" Jerry was pulling out his gun.
"Wait!" I yelled at Jerry and I lowered my weapons also, putting my knife back into my pocket. The not-so-dead man was crying. He just stood there, shaking, and crying. Soft sobs were coming from his mouth. I realized he was trying to talk. "Dead. All dead." He kept repeating himself and when I looked in his eyes they were just as vacant as a dead man's. It was creeping me out so I left him standing there, grabbed Jerry's hand, and got out of the store.
We stood outside for a moment, watching the quiet. The majority of the zombies had probably gone someplace else for awhile. I wondered where James was and wondered if he was safe. I took a drag of my almost-gone cigarette and took another swig from my flask of whiskey.
I asked Jerry where we should go.
He didn't respond.
I looked to my right to see his eyes were bloodshot. And a weird hissing sound started to come from his mouth.
God dammit, he'd been bitten already.
"Sorry, Jerbear." And I shed only one tear when I swiftly pulled the knife out of my jacket pocket and stabbed it deep into the center of his forehead.



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For some reason in my dream I was a total badass. I even looked different. I had dark brown hair, I had serious fighting skills, and I was just a total BADASS! If there really actually was a zombie apocalypse I'm sure I would be one of the first to die or one of the first to be bitten. I'm just a sissy la la! :)