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There’s something about a crisis, isn’t there? There’s just something about it. I remember saying something like how the zombies were the closest thing there is to a real human. I remember that. In a way, I’m still kind of right. Yes, they are pure in that they only want one thing, to kill. It’s a driving force that makes them unstoppable and it keeps them going. They’re hungry, so they eat. That’s all they do. The thing about them is that I don’t think that’s really the worst of people. No, not at all. It’s just a purer version. What am I talking about? I don’t even know. It’s been a few days since I took out my first…since I killed my mom. I haven’t had a lot of encounters since then and I’ve met some people along the way. I don’t even remember their names anymore. I don’t remember a lot of things. My head is a blur. I can’t concentrate. At least I’m alive, right?
I’m not really sure what being alive means anymore. There’s surviving, yeah. There’s getting through the day and making it into the next one. Is that being alive? What makes me more human than those wandering things out there? My emotions? The fact that I can think? I don’t even think there’s a line anymore.
I was hiding out in a basement of a house. I was waiting out the day and I saw a girl wandering the streets with her little brother. I think it was her little brother. They must have been scavenging for supplies. Idiots. No one goes out looking without a good weapon and all they had were baseball bats. Aluminum ones. Stupid. You could push them back, but a good whack in the head and what do you have? A dented piece of shit. Idiots.
The walkers were the least of their worries though. There was another group in front of them. People. People who weren’t infected. It was a bunch of guys that looked like they were straight out of some cheap movie about the inner streets of shit city, USA. Real “tough” guys, you know? They looked at her and started making noises at her and saying some stuff I couldn’t hear. Probably some derogatory shit. Happens. She was good looking. Happens. Then, they started walking towards her. I couldn’t hear, but I knew she was telling them to get back. The little brother, brave little bastard, got in front of her with his bat. How old do you think he was? I reckon he was no older than twelve. Brave little bastard.
The lead guy walked up to him and the little kid swung for the fences. He missed and he swung so hard that his body rotated with the swing. The guy caught him by the collar and threw him towards the sidewalk. Then they rushed her. They rushed her and the grabbed her by the wrist. They fucking grabbed her wrists and she was screaming. Screaming and kicking. She got a few hits in, but there were three of them and she was all alone. All alone.
No. No. Not alone. I was there. I was watching. But, it wasn’t my concern. I’m one person. I have a good crowbar, but I’m one person. I’ll get on with the story.
They pinned her down and they started ripping off her clothes. She kept kicking and screaming. Oh, she was crying, too. Crying. I could tell she was crying. And then.....they started getting what they wanted. I saw her. She just closed her eyes and kept crying. I saw them take…..turns. The little brother tried to save her again, but he got clocked in the face and I watched. I was watching. You have to understand, though, I was one person.
They were too many of them.
When they were done, they left her there. I looked at her for a while. She laid there and looked at the sky. There were tears running down her face and they cleared a path along the dirt that got on her face. Her legs were scratched up and she skinned her knees when they made her . . .change positions. She just lay there and looked at the sky. Then I saw movement again. It wasn’t the same guys. Walkers. She didn’t move. She just sat up and looked at them as they eyed her.
There was something in the corner of my eye. I couldn’t see. The window didn’t go that far. A little hand in a puddle of blood. I figured out why she didn’t move. She had no reason to. Nothing to live for anymore. So she let them come. I stopped watching. I closed my eyes and stopped watching.
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It’s been a week since my first kill. Getting through this town has been much more slow going than I thought. That’s what happens when suburbs are pretty much tied together with no discernable border. To be honest, I’m not even sure where I’m headed anymore. I haven’t had to kill anyone since my first one. I’ve been avoiding it as much as possible. I’ve learned how to be quiet and just keep my distance. I really don’t want to have to kill anymore.
I ran into some people recently. Live ones, that is. Two girls and some kid. I’m pretty sure the kid was no older than twelve or something. They’re family, I think. The oldest girl’s name is Carla. She’s nice to look at. I’ve been looking at her since I picked them up from some ransacked pharmacy. I guess they were scavenging for meds. They were glad to see another friendly, non-biting face so it wasn’t hard to get along with them. I decided to walk with them for a bit. We’ve boarded ourselves in this house for the time being. They were also looking for food and I told them about the grocery store back near my house and how it was still stocked. The way back probably has more walkers than last week, though. I’m pretty sure of that much. They decided to hole up with me in this house while they figure out what to do. They have a lot of medical supplies and I have a lot of food. Things will work out for now. I hope I get to travel with them for a while.
I can’t stop looking at Carla. We’ve been here in this house for about two nights and I’ve already been having dreams about her.
Last night’s was a little……intense.
There was heat. I began to sweat. There was a rhythm. I began to move. In between the motions I would bite at her collar bone and she would call to me. No soft whispers and sweet nothings. Just pure adrenaline and instinct. Then I would feel a flash of pain on my back. Nails dug in and dragging I could feel it burning and the pain surging. It kept me going. It kept my pace and then it made me hungry. Hungry for her skin and her breath. Hungry for the way she arched her back when her buttons were pushed. Hungry for those eyes that look down at me when she felt that it was her turn to have her way. I picked her up. Pinned her against the wall. There was a thud and she smiles at me. “Go” she would mouth and that’s what I would do. Motion by motion, bite by bite, we were tangled in a mess and I loved it. I could feel my muscles aching and my shoulders straining to hold her up. They weren’t tired, she was just difficult to contain. She was an avalanche, she was an eruption, and I tried to hold it all in my arms as I moved to that primal beat we heard in our heads. I’ve never wanted her so much in my life. I’ve never been so alive. Nothing was going through my mind. Absolutely nothing. All I could see was what was in front of me. All I could feel was her body against mine. Her heat radiating to my skin and her sweat mixing with mine as it rolled down her belly. Oh, what clear conviction; what sheer and utter dedication to nothing but the moment.
Then there was nothing. Then there was a cold realization and my feet were out of my blanket. I opened my eyes and sat up to a room different from what I saw. Looked up to an unfamiliar ceiling. I rubbed my eyes and stayed awake.
Who knew the zombie apocalypse makes you horny? I better gather myself together or things might get uncomfortable.
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Sometimes a story comes along that's raw and just tells it how it is. So,for the first time, we present a young writer who's gonna rock our world with his vision of the zombie apocolypse.
We are going to post his ongoing saga which is entitled Walking with Virgil - in bitesize chunks, unedited as it goes down on paper. So, yeah, you'll get the typo's but get over it - the story is going somewhere.
We'll post it up on facebook as well - check in and keep track.
Here’s Part 1
When accounts of the “living dead” started hitting the wires, people were, for good reason, quite skeptical. It’s not something you just up and believe. There’s no such thing as Santa, there’s no such thing as the Tooth Fairy, and there’s no such things as Zombies. Turns out, one of those three came into reality and unfortunately it’s not the lady that gives money for loose molars. What we got were zombies; full on moaning, gnashing, snarling zombies and, unfortunately, not the shuffling kind. We like calling them the “living dead,” but they’re not truly dead. The only thing dead about the infected is their humanity. The virus doesn’t kill you, it puts you in a coma and when you come to, well, you’re like a dog with a really bad case of rabies. Nothing but pure aggression and a hunger that can destroy a Vegas buffet in the blink of an eye. Everything goes back to baser instincts and the “human” turns into their truer self, pure animal.
Can’t say I’m not glad that they’re not really undead. That would just be creepy. I don’t want a head snapping at me after I cut it off. Physiologically speaking, everyone is still “human.” You can break bones and they slow down, you can shoot the gut and they can die. I’m thankful for that. I’m a horrible shot. I wouldn’t be able to hit the head if my life depended on it and, well, in this situation it does. The infected exhibit the same level of fitness they did before succumbing to the virus, albeit with a little boost from suddenly over sized adrenal glands. A little bit faster, a little bit stronger, and feeling no pain. Makes for a hell of a fight. Also means that you have to have massive cardio to make it out there. You’ll get tired before they do, I guarantee it. The fatties not so much, but Lord help you if you catch a horde with some endurance athletes or sprinters.
Basically, we’re on our own now. Things are getting pretty chaotic and the government is just bunkered down being a bunch of pussies. The military? Well, they’re spread too thin to get to everyone. Borders have to be secured at the same time as trying to keep things clean on the inside. I don’t blame them for skipping over “hot zones” like my little hamlet. I’ll be honest with you, I hate my town. I’ve hated it for years and I’ve always wanted to move, but you get lulled into complacency. You always complain about your home life, but when you stop and think about how much money it will cost to move out on your own, you just sit and say, “Well, someday.” It literally had to take the end of the world to convince me to move. I’m still in my parent’s house, but not for long. Man cannot live on canned vienna sausages alone.
Mostly everyone is infected now. Sometimes the wires buzz with a few pockets of people who are bunkered down like me. Once I get everything ready, I’m kicking my doors down and partying my way downtown, grab the friends who are still alive, and head for a green zone. Not the safest plan, but it’s better than sitting in a town that the rest of the world turned its back on, right? Oh, right, my name’s Virgil and I’m about to walk into hell.
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I had finally decided to make my move and start up for a green zone. There were no more supplies in the house so I thought that it would be a good a time as any. I packed up what I could, some clothes, clean underwear, things like a toothbrush and toothpaste, and other little things. Let me tell you something, you can never underestimate the effect the little things have on you. Things like being able to brush your teeth or shave, these are the kinds of things that help keep you sane. At least, that’s what I told myself and that’s what the wires were saying before they went dark. I also had a weapon. Nothing fancy, just a crowbar. I wrapped the handle with a leather strap so that I could grip it better and then at the end put a loop that would go around my wrist. I didn’t want to lose it if it slipped out of my hands. Things like that will get you killed. I managed to sharpen the edges of the crowbar so that it would be more effective when things got serious. I used it well today. I used it too well. I can’t believe how easy it was to just crack the skull. Maybe it wasn’t that easy. I think it took me a couple of hits. I just kept hitting and hitting. Okay, I’m sorry, I’m skipping ahead. Let me get back to it.
When I set out, it was around noon. It was surprising how empty the streets were. It was surprising and a bit unnerving. I looked down my block and all I could see was an empty, lonely street. There were parked cars here and there, things that people dropped during the initial panic when everyone was trying to get out, even cash on the ground. The street was literally littered with things that, before the great panic, could have been someone’s life. Mac Books, PSPs, iPads, and all the things that we worked so hard just to buy were thrown out and forgotten. It’s easy to put things in perspective when walkers are trying to eat you, I suppose. I would make a snide remark about how zombies had a positive effect on America’s destructive consumerism, but I’m not that witty.
I decided to walk to the grocery store which was the two streets over from my house. I needed supplies and if people left in a hurry, I’m sure there would still be some food that I could take with me. The power grid was still running so I was hoping that maybe I could even heat some up before heading out. It was strange walking down a street that I knew so well after something like this. It was the same, but different. It was always empty whenever I walked about. It was a quiet neighborhood. But walking about before the Panic, I could still see activity in houses, you know? There would be people having lunch or someone in their garage fixing up their car. Little things like that. Today, it was completely empty. Doors were swung wide open and windows were broken. I could see that some windows were boarded up from the inside. At first glance I would wonder if people were still there until I saw the signs of entry where the weight of the horde finally toppled whatever defense they could muster. If I had known my neighbors, I may have felt sad for them. No one knew each other in my block though. That’s how it’s always been. That’s the way society had become. Outside of the internet, everything became impersonal. I’m glad I didn’t look out my room during the first nights. What would I have seen? Would I have seen a man shoving his neighbor towards a walker to buy him time? When you don’t know the person running in front of you, how easy would it be to just grab them and throw them to the fire so that you can survive? People can be animals when in a panic. That’s what happened to me at the grocery store.
It was empty. I expected to find a mess and I was surprised at how clean it was. There was some food on the floor, sure, but not as much as I expected. I guess people really did want to leave in a hurry. No time for looting and supply runs. I looked at the liquor cabinet and found that it was almost empty except for a few bottles of Jack and Captain Morgan. I’ll be honest, that made me laugh. Someone must have had their priorities straight for a zombie apocalypse. Get wasted before you die and you won’t give a fuck, right?
I was looking for food when I heard footsteps. I gripped my crowbar and kept my eyes sweeping right to left looking from one end of the aisle to the other. It sounded like it was only one walker which was good because I didn’t feel like being cornered in the canned foods aisle. The walker turned the corner to my right and I got a good look at her, a real good look. She was middle aged with thick rimmed glasses and there were bloodstains around her long fingernails. She was wearing an employee vest, but her nametag had fallen off. It was ok, though, I knew her even without the name tag. Right when I saw her, I knew who she was and remembered everything that I had blocked out after the panic started. I had forgotten about how I worried about my friends and I had forgotten about a lot of things. I just focused on myself. Now, that I was there, everything rushed in. I remembered. And it made my stomach twist.
You had work when it started, didn’t you, mom?
Her body curled like a predator as she started leaning forward while stepping towards me. Each step she took was faster and heavier than the last until finally she came running at me. I panicked. I shuffled back and tripped over myself and fell to the ground. I landed on my left elbow and the sharp pain that shot through my arm made me yell out. I kept inching back, but she was at full speed towards me. I couldn’t get up in time and she barreled into me, teeth bare and fingers reaching for my face. I kept her back with my foot and I had a hand on her throat, but she was strong. She must have been hungry. She kept trying to push her weight against me and my arm was getting tired. I fumbled around for my crowbar while still gripping the bottom of her jaw. I had to keep her from biting me. I finally got a grip on my crowbar and swung as hard as I could for her temple. It must have made solid contact because she fell to the side and I managed to wriggle free. I stood up looking down at her and I swung again, and again, and again, and again until there was a pool of red under my feet and nothing else. I didn’t want her getting back up again.
My hands are still shaking. I don’t know why, but my hands are still shaking. You’d think it’d be an easy thing to do. Nothing to it, right? That’s what I told myself. There would be nothing to it. I would just go about my business, then if I saw one, send them to whatever god they wished. That’s what I thought when I finally opened the doors to my parent’s house and decided to move on out and head north to a green zone. I guess you think these things would go alright and that you’ve properly prepared yourself. I’ve always thought it would be rather cathartic. I was hoping that my first infected would be an ex-girlfriend or that neighbor who called the cops on me when I had a party. It wasn’t though. It wasn’t and I hate that it wasn’t. I wasn’t ready. Maybe if I had killed more. Maybe if I had a couple more under my belt, I would have had the steel nerves to do it. No, what I did wasn’t bravery, it was desperation. I was the animal today and my God my hands won’t stop shaking.
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