The Walking Dead

Working out, resting, friends and sleep were his normal schedule, everything was completely out of sync now with all the chaos in the streets building and building to unprecedented levels. This was some other level shit, cars on fire, blood all over the place and some people seemed to be…eating each other!? That was it for Dan when he saw the latter happening in the streets from his third story apartment. Quickly he grabbed his gun, ammo and knife. Before he dashed out the door he grabbed his gym bag and shoved as much water and food into it as he could and with the clothes on his back he made way out the door. Inside making his way down the stairs he could hear the sounds of the outside almost echoing through the walls, gun shots and small explosions every ware.

His hand fell onto the handle to the front door of the complex and with his pistol in the other hand with half a clip inside he almost pulled the door open but quickly backed off as two of the infected appeared and were pushing up against the door. Cross lifted the gun to fire but saw they lacked any kind of intelligence to open the door the correct way, after a full minute of pushing against a pull door Cross lowered the gun and stepped forward thrusting all his weight into a front kick into the door knocking one of the infected clear out of the way.

pop!pop!

Two shots entered and exited the still standing infected taking it out forever. Many of these flesh eating infected were slowly creeping up to Dan after he popped off those rounds making him regret his actions. "Fuck that was a bad move." He picked up his bag that he dropped inside and was quick enough to get past the walker he had kicked out of the way, making his way to the alley planning on sticking with those routes till he found a place that was safe for the time being. He stopped at the other end of the alley and the other street was a lot more clear then the former one, taking a glance back a small horde was building behind him.

Braking into a full run Cross made a B-line for a open door across the way hoping to lose the slightly fast walker.

David Barry wheezed, cursing his lack of stamina as he dashed through the growing pandemonium in suburbia. It was just two hours ago that he was happy that an immediate catastrophic social breakdown was occurring due to zombie apocalypse if it just meant a five minute break from his horrible, incompetent boss. Despite the molten pain in his limbs, David’s right hand still tingled pleasantly. The uppercut had probably been the best in his life, shattering Mr. Cary Barker’s jaw and silencing his annoying whining for the whatever remained for the rest of his miserable life.

David used the uppercut again to blast away his overweight neighbor Cally and then rammed a shoulder deep into her gut, knocking her down. The look of astonishment in her face mirrored that of his co-workers after he had knocked his boss’s lights out. All that was missing to mirror that scene was a few people clapping softly. Instead, the steady pounding of undead footsteps was his applause; their moaning was the chorus of laughter. The howls grew louder and more appreciative as Cally’s high pitched shriek joined them.

David’s shaking hands almost dropped his keys, and struggled to shove his key into the lock. Cally shrieked louder, and David dropped his keys. “Fuck!” David never thought he would be facing a zombie apocalypse unarmed. He took a few deep breaths to calm his terror, and picked his keys up. His house key scrabbled against the surface of his lock, and finally slid into place as Cally went silent. A quick turn of the key and he wrenched the door open. The horrid moans of the dead followed him as he slammed the door shut and locked the deadbolt.

He leant against the door, breathing heavily. Relief spread like anesthetic through his limbs and he sank heavily down to the floor. David took a heavy breath and then another, feeling life to return to his limbs. He rose unsteadily—no doubt exactly the same way Cally would any minute. Unlike the boisterous, callous and cruel Cally, nerdy David actually had plans in case such an unlikely sci-fi catastrophe were to actually occur. David staggered into his small organized office and unlocked his gun safe. The 9mm was a comforting weight in his hand, and he slid a magazine in with an authoritative click. It went into a modified belt with more than a holster for a gun.

He tossed his all-important thumb drives into a zip-lock bag and stuffed it into the BOB along with a mini-notebook. David made a mental note to knock over a Radioshack after the pharmacy to cobble together a hand generator and for an adapter. He grabbed the canteens and camelback and dragged them over to the kitchen sink and filled them hurriedly. The scrabbling of broken nails became audible over the sound of water. David cursed again, and repacked the water. He calmly poured himself a glass and started stuffing his face with high calorie easily accessible food.

The sound of wood splintering caused David to lift his Faire mace apprehensively. Despite his planning with his buddies at the last Faire, terror stole the strength from his limbs. Logic and experience dictated careful positioning. The first zombie through the shattered door was met with 6 lb. mace, shattering skull and splattering gray matter everywhere. The back hand shattered the jaw of the next zombie and knocked it to the floor. He stepped back and raised his pistol. 8 shots rang out and four zombies ceased moaning forever. Cally moaned in the door, and the zombie with the broken jaw shambled towards him. 5 more shots ended them as well. David turned and vomited.

David tossed the black trash bag covered in zombie gore, the mace head no longer dripping with gore. The ruined corpses of half a dozen of re-dead zombies littered the entrance of the small sporting goods store. He whistled cheerfully, twirling in his right hand. It was his twentieth kill, and David was feeling quite a rosy glow.