187 - The Zombie Movie

I always wondered why we were here on this planet. What purpose did we have? Had we fulfilled our purpose, had we done all that we had needed to do? If we had done so, was our creator punishing us by sending a plague down to us? I wasn't sure of anything anymore; this was something I had never experienced before, these feelings, these emotions. I never knew whether I was coming or going, what was happening was far beyond my intellectual capacity to conceive. I left all that thinking and so on to the eggheads in DC. But here in Serenity Falls, Maine, I just sat and was hoping that I could wait it out in the cold. I hoped, but would that mean I'd get what I wanted? I don't know, and I don't think those boffins back in DC have the slightest clue either.
I remember the day it happened, when I found out about the first case of it. I was sat on my porch at home, watching the day pass by, the children playing in the streets, laughing, running, chasing each other in glee. But it would not be long before they would need to be running in fear. I had the radio on in the background inside the house and I was sitting back on my chair outside, picking at my boots, attempting to clear the grips from dirt and dog shit. But that was when I heard it.
The radio was playing some old tune from way back, a classic or something. One of those tunes from the 1950's that everyone knows by heart. Yeah, one of those. Then all of a sudden, the radio went dead for a moment. I barely noticed as the task of scraping the shit off my boots was taking longer that I'd wanted. Then, a voice came over the airwaves. It was a man's voice, a little shaky, like he'd just been given some bad news or something. He sounded shocked, or bemused, I couldn't tell which. He introduced himself very politely and proceeded to clear his throat before he went on to explain about an isolated incident in my exact area. Apparently, some policeman or someone had come across a house that seemed abandoned. But it was strange in the fact that there were children's toys all across the front lawn and the lights were still on. He went in closer to check out the scene. But when he got to the front door, there was a sudden stench. A horrible stench, the stench of death. Obviously, this man wants to check out the scene a little further, wondering what the smell was that emanated from underneath the door. He knocked on the door asking if anyone was home. He received no answer. When he knocked again and then again a couple more times, there was still no answer. By this time, he was suspicious of the circumstances. He opened the door and looked inside the house. Nothing was visibly wrong, more toys and child's playthings were scattered about the floor of the living room and the scene appeared to be a normal sub-urban household.
As I began to listen in, I became aware that something serious was being said, something unheard of, something the man on the radio was afraid of. He continued to speak nervously into the airwaves.
From this moment on, the scene that the man had walked in on started to fall from normal everyday happenings into the bizarre, the frightening and the horribly obscure. He stepped into the house and walked about the living room looking for clues as to why this house seemed to be abandoned. But it wasn't abandoned. It was just not being looked after anymore by its residents. Apparently a noise came from the bedroom which was situated somewhere upstairs. In mild curiosity, he went in search of the sound and its whereabouts. All the doors to all the rooms on the first floor were wide open, but nothing still seemed to be stirring. The air was dead and stale, the atmosphere quiet with only the sound of the man's breathing interrupting the flow of events. Up to this point, it seemed to just be a normal everyday thing, possibly at worst a missing person's report would have to be filled in down at the city police station. But what came next was something to the surprise of all listeners as well as myself. What the report suggested was something I'd only heard of in movies.
The man had been reported to have followed the sound, which played out again and again, up to the master bedroom of the house. He turned the corner and found a body lying on the bed and another crumpled in the corner. A double suicide it seemed was what the man was looking at, but on closer inspection, he found the bodies to be still breathing to an extent. A shallow wheeze flowed out of them like a stunted breeze in summer, but the truth it seemed had still not yet been found, but this man was very close to finding it out, and becoming victim to it.
The report suggested that the man who had investigated this house had been bitten by the bodies lying on the bed as well as those of two children who had been apparently hiding in the bathroom, which was joined onto the master bedroom. It seemed that all these people were, in brutal honesty, dead.
And this is where the report seemed to flow into something else, and in the pit of my stomach, I soon felt the same feeling that the reporter must have been feeling in his stomach at this very moment too. I sank into myself, listening in still to discover more of the horrors of this story.
Apparently, these seemingly dead people stood up from their positions and slowly, proceeded to attack the man, biting him several times, even tearing off his left arm during the struggle.
This report was based on the statement of the man involved, luckily for him, he had managed to escape the scene and flee to the police station, but not before seeing his own arm which had been severed being eaten by the dead in the master bedroom. The man had burst into the police station, and when carted to the hospital, was asked by the police what had happened. After telling his story, the others were unsure of whether this was fact or fiction. They couldn't believe it, they couldn't, and it was impossible by all known standards of life and death. Even the simplest of biological factors had been warped by this statement. This event surely couldn't have happened, but how was that to explain the fact that on closer inspection, the man's arm showed teeth marks encompassing the circumference of the arm.
Finally, but not too soon enough, the report finished and I was left sitting in my chair, hoping this was some sort of joke or something. A practical joke played on us by some pirate radio show hosts or anything slightly possible or plausible. But it soon seemed to me that this was in fact the case, and the report had suggested the right information. This was indeed the situation and it did seem that whoever these dead people were, they were not there when other policemen went to check the scene. All that was found was the ragged remains of the man's left arm, eaten away, eaten by someone or something.
This was enough for me, I'd have been happy to die then if I'd known what I knew now back then. If I'd have been able to comprehend the implications of this report back when it started, I would have blasted myself into an early sleep and never come back to visit this world of broken laws and the new biological impossibilities.
At the time of this report, people scoffed at the idea of this occurrence and would rather label it as something of fiction or The X-Files instead of actually investigating this report. The people that mattered when it came down to it scoffed at this notion too. There were only a few people who were actually taking this in seriously, but I guess they were just all movie buffs and horror nuts. The people that mattered, the government, the authorities, all of them, they all thought this occurrence was a big joke and didn't want to speak of it again. They put it all down to some prank pulled off by kids or a gang or some shit like that. But I knew, as did a few others, that this was not just some joke. There was no way on earth that this was just some gag from Mad Magazine or some Christmas cracker, no way.
It began to seem however, after a while, that this was indeed the case, that this report was just part of a joke or something. Nothing else was heard of for a short while, and people seemed to get back to what they were doing, but they still had this sensation in the backs of their heads thinking "what if." But I still had that very much in the forefront of my mind. "What if" I thought, what if this was to happen again, what if another report came across the waves telling of another situation like this one. Then another, and another, and then, soon, a dozen reports all the same from across the country. I tried not to think about it too hard, but I couldn�t help it. This was something too weird and out of the ordinary that it had to be true. I couldn't stop myself from drifting off into a horrid daydream at work, thinking of what might be if another radio report came across the waves and told us of another attack by whatever those things were a while back.
I continued to wait, sitting by the radio all day and night, waiting for something to happen. I waited for what seemed to be a short eternity, and then finally, it happened.
Again, I was sitting on my porch watching the sun go down in my quiet neighbourhood when another report fizzed onto the airwaves. The same voice as before, shaky and disturbed just like the last time I heard it stumbled into my head. As before, the man on the radio was slow and cautious about his way of speech while frantic phone calls and rustling in the background could be heard. He went on to tell of how another two incidents had occurred not too long ago, about the beginning of the week and how those involved had either escaped or been partially devoured by their attackers who were nowhere to be seen as yet. A daylight attack on a small school was what followed these two incidents. Several children were massacred by whatever these things were that stumbled into their playground. The teachers were quick to act, but were unable to save some of the children closest to the point of entrance for the attackers. The poor kids didn't have a chance. They died soon after, on the school yard ground, right there, surrounded by chaos, and those stumbling things in people's bodies.
The police arrived on the scene; they found the attacked children lying dead on the floor. Immediately, the opened fire, blasting round after round into the legs, arms and chests of the attackers. Nothing happened, the mysterious people just straightened back up and started back again towards the police. Further shots, but nothing, no effect. In the confusion and horror of the situation, two of the cops were killed by the monsters, all but one of which were eventually killed by a shot in the head each.
The madness that followed on after was pure hell. Parents screaming for their lost children, rushed funerals, curfews. Utter madness. But nobody had seen the madness they were about to experience. At a multiple funeral for the dead children, all families attended, as did the rest of the school. It was a massacre in disguise. The dead children all crept out of their coffins. They all clambered out and stumbled onto the floor where they attacked the living. They attacked, and they devoured in a frenzy of horror. From then on, I knew this was going to be the end. The end of all that we knew and all that we loved. From now on, this would be the norm, news reports showing images of death caused by a new foe, one that was equally the enemy of anyone in the world. They were the enemy of the human race.
Sure enough, that's what happened. After that day when I sat down and listened to the radio to hear about the attack at the school and then to watch it on the evening news in all its bloody detail, it soon became the norm.
Slowly at first, but then the pace at which the reports began to flow into the news and radio stations increased, as did the amount of coverage per hour of this situation. Eventually this wave of death seemed to be on the box 24 hours a day. You could never escape from it. If it wasn't splattered across your television, it was splattered across your front lawn.
As the number of cases increased, the sales in all sorts of guns and weapons of any description increased. Soon enough there were small aircraft dropping crates of guns to our city, as the risk of cross infection was too great via wheeled transportation. People became their own personal Rambo's, toting shotguns, pistols, Uzi's and any other weapon. It was something out of a goddamn Hollywood blockbuster, not real life. I myself even got kitted out, but much sooner than anybody else on my block. I was the first man on the block to have three guns on my person and a further four in my house. I invested in steel bars for my windows; giant locks for my steel plated doors. Hell, I was even living on the first floor only by that time, using a retractable ladder as my only access having knocked down the stairs after it dawned on my to make my house my fortress.
The others in my area at first thought I was nuts, but one day when several of these things came crawling into our cul-de-sac, I was the only one with enough fire power to blast those sons-of-bitches to kingdom come. Not long after that was I giving tips to the others on how to secure their homes. But of course, there were those who didn't, those who'd rather live life on a knife-edge while insisting this wasn't happening. They were the fools, they were the ones to die first, well, at least most of them. The weasily ones of them got away any way possible, I don't know how though. Shit, if I did know I wouldn't be hanging around here in Serenity Falls that much longer, I tell you that for sure.
Despite all this self-defence and so on, there were still some days when it was safe to go outside, but armed of course, and quickly make your way to a friend's house or the local store for more supplies or something. Those were the good days, the days without those monstrous beasts outside banging on my door. But I answered to them with my 12-gauge. Those days when I could visit others on my block were soon running out though, and the end was not too far out of reach. I could see it coming; I could see the end of sociable ways and the coming of lawlessness and crime. I could see it coming, and it had a dead face.
Serenity Falls was a big city, and being a large city, it took a while for this new disease to catch on and take a stronger hold over us, but the emergency services were still active and the communications networks were still operating, however shabbily. All day on the television and the radio, all day it was news. All day, all week, news covered the screen. Eventually, as we descended into madness and chaos, so did the rules of being normal humans. People started to take the law into their own hands and soon, were beginning to feel freer to commit crime too. In the small round ups at the end of every hour of news, they'd speak of the latest crimes to be committed by gangs that now ruled the streets of Serenity Falls. More often than not, murder, and theft and above all else, rape were the main crimes to be committed by these large gangs of social misfits, escaped convicts and criminal wannabes. Almost every night, hell, even everyday small gangs of men would loot houses and if they found a young, pretty girl inside, they'd rape her over and over if they had the time. They could get away with it, so they did it. Rape was the most common crime next to theft, and murder was always linked to rape and theft. It seemed criminal acts came in threes now. But with these gangs of men going around murdering, robbing and raping, there were soon small groups of thuggish women going around attacking any and all men. But the cases of this happening were few and far between. So there were many more robberies, rapes and murders to come it seemed.
However, crime was not always happening. Daytime was fine, but nighttime was the worst. I remember hearing one night the roars of two vans pulling into my area and the sound of a group of ogres descending onto the streets. Then silence but soon enough, the sounds of a woman screaming came. The screams went on for hours until they had all gotten their ya ya's and the screaming stopped after one gunshot.
I hated the society that we had become, this vile, stinking world of hate. How had this come about? Those fucking zombies came along and then that was it, the end of law and order, the end of public decency, the end of all that we had known, loved and experience. What we had to endure now was a slow, agonising death in a world where angels no longer existed. A world where the victims became the victimisers, a world where the good became the bad, a world with them. The meandering corpses of the new wave of justice that had struck us like a sledgehammer. I wanted it to end so fast and efficient, but wishful thinking is a death wish in this world now. To hope for the best and to plan the final detail is to believe in a dead end fate. Fate doesn't exist, we make our own fates, but it is usually not thinking of our fates that become our fate. There's no escape from that, much like there's no escape from those walking corpses outside and in the back of your mind. You never forget they're out there, but more often than not, there's always someone else out there with them living life on a razor's edge, slipping by the law due to this disease. At night you often found that lights on meant either criminals or zombies came knocking at your door. Then and only then, blinding and swift, basic justice was what you had to give them. I swear, by the end of the first year of this fucked up situation, I must have had at least seven dead zombies and twelve rotting criminals on my property scattered around. Sure the flies kept out of my house at least, buzzing around those bloody bodies, but the stink was more than enough to gag someone without a sense of smell.
For this simple reason, I had to venture out into the yard on a quiet day, but still equipped with all the necessaries, and I managed to dispose of a good few of those bodies. A couple by burial, those were the freshly dead zombies for whom I had more respect for than those law breaking bastards who I just torched where they lay. It may have looked a right shit hole, my house, but aesthetics were the beyond the last thing on your mind these days.
The last thing on people's minds these days was however, living another day. People who managed to make it a year in this mess were more than surprised to say the least, hell, a few of them ran out onto the streets from their barricaded homes and danced around in joy. They didn't dance again after that though, they didn't speak again either.
There were fewer and fewer of us each day in Serenity Falls, but as the days grew older and then a new dawn was given birth to, I slowly became less and less remorseful about my newly dead neighbours while the others in the street I lived on held quick ceremonies for them. It was madness really, in this world you didn't have time to bury your dead, you only had time to give them one last right, the right to sleep for evermore. I was becoming ostracized from the other humans in this city, but I didn't mind too much, friends no longer existed, just enemies at every turn. More than once I found old neighbours scrabbling at my door at night, whether they were human or were those walking corpses, I didn't care too much. I blew them away without remorse, without thinking, without knowing.
I was losing it alright, I was past the beyond and I had seen what was new, what was now, and I didn�t like it one bit, yet I was forced by fate to live in it. Shit, there I go again, fate. I thought I didn't believe in fate anymore, but obviously, old habits die hard, and people die harder everyday now. "Shoot 'em in the head" screams the guy on the box. At first it was quite hard to manage that, at first the zombies were quite active and wild, but it was either experience that was helping me hit the bull's eye or it was those things slowing down. Well, the first at least.
Yes sir, I had lost it by the time it had gotten to the second year. I had moved house, well, I was forced to. I took my car and drove it to the centre of town where the bastard thing ran out of gas, I always wondered what those vulturous criminals were doing outside my house all those months ago. Guess I had found out, but I didn't really think I wanted to find out something so trivial this way. Well, I was in no way to argue with my predicament, it was clear, it was simple, well, theoretically anyway. I had to find shelter and I had to find it fast. Even if it was the sewers for a few hours to catch my breath, so what? I just needed somewhere where I couldn't see those flesh-eating puss buckets anymore.
But luckily for me, I staggered across a great big sign. "K-Mart" stood tall and illuminated in front of me, except for the "M," that had burnt out long ago, huh, K-art, what a co-incidence. But that was irrelevant, this place was one of those places you see in movies or whatever. This place was locked down, it had security glass all over the place, you know, that unbreakable shit that people started putting up when the shit hit the fan. I found my way round the back of the store but the door was locked tight. There was no time for pissing around now, so I fashioned a ladder from a series of crate pallets and a disposal unit round the left side of the store. I clambered onto the roof, at least I'd be safe for a little while anyway if my plan fell through.
I searched around, and eventually found the roof-top access behind the generator housing at the back of the store. It was more than I could believe, the thing was open and the store was clear. I was able to get inside and lock myself in. I guess blind luck was the only virtue anyone could receive today, but at least it was me that got it and not someone else. This was a world for the types who only though "me, me, me" and I had been converted. "Nice guys finish last" the saying went and sure enough, in the world today, that was true. If you pussy footed around too long, those things would come up behind you and bite off your ass. Selfish ways had prevailed and good clean cut folk had fallen by the wayside. Only those who were bad seeds anyway, or those who could easily be converted to another way of life, like myself, could make a living for themselves in this world.
I did miss my old self, the old self that was a kind and considerate person, someone who always said his "please's" and "thank you's" and never swore outloud in the company of women or children. But I was far from that now. I was in this situation to survive now, but I still had a yearning to end it all, but that option was too quick and easy. At least hang around a while and see what happens was what I though. You can't just blow your brains out so soon into the situation and not try to survive and find out what happens. No, to die so soon was wrong in my mind, but it was still an option. Something for the final act, a little nice tiding to remember whenever the shit seemed to get too thick. If I was ever surrounded with no way out, I knew what I wanted to do, and that option was by my side all day, all night, waiting, waiting for me to break it free from it's leather prison to be used once, and once only.
The K-Mart proved to be an adequate home for myself, although, the glass front did mean that I had to be extra careful when I passed it. Possible roaming zombies or raiders might be in sight and if I was to be spotted, that would be the end of this little hold-up.
The days went by very slowly in the small store, but every so often I went onto the roof and lay down, crawling to the edge to take a glimpse out onto the empty streets to view the latest carnage or just another burnt out wreck of a car. The skys were always grey now, or at least it seemed that way. There was never sunshine and the nights were always the most volitile times whatwith speeding gangs of criminals running up and down the streets from all across the country. They sped through, took their fancies, and went about their business again somewhere else. Sometimes, they'd even make no attempt to hide what they were doing. Countless times I saw through a pair of binoculars taken from the store women, sometimes men getting raped in the streets. Always ending in death, but not always forever as several times I swear those bodies had gotten up and moved away themselves during the night when I was sleeping. I was sure of it, and I eventually found out that this was indeed the case one day when I was pacing about the store. I was in the back of the K-Mart and as I always did, I took a look out onto the street infront of the building. It was there that I saw one of those walking corpses outside, staggering about minus purpose. The god damn corpse was naked too, it was one of the previous month's rape victims from the steets round the back of the store. I couldn't believe my eyes. First she was humilated and violated, then she has to suffer the indignity of walking again after dying a less than peaceful death. I wanted to end it for her, but I couldn't do it. If I shot her it would alert the other zombies or people in the area. I had to keep a low profile, no matter how nausiating it was to see victims of the new age walk and shuffle around before my eyes, unknowing of the events of the world anymore, just becoming another statistic in the government records, another blot on the front of a careering truck driven by mad criminals thirsty for blood and whatever else they wanted. To suffer the utmost indigity was to suffer being a zombie. Becoming a criminal was just below that, at least being a criminal meant you were still human. But I felt as the days went by, I was slowly becoming a criminal myself. I had taken this store, I had used the contents without paying, I had even had urges to do anything I ever wanted, but I forced myself not to think of it.
To take a box of cereal or a can of beer without paying seemed minimal in today's crime sprees that occurred every night and day from mulitple gangs, but to me if felt wrong, but I wanted to survive, and this was the way I had to do it. So that was what I did. And to relieve those urges I so wanted to destroy, I had to turn to the top shelf of the store's magazine rack where silver coated plastic bound magazines stood proud. It wasn't the most pleasant thing really, but I had to succumb to it, otherwise I might crave the criminal urge much more, but I knew that someday I would, and I would want to join them and run amok across the country, taking whatever I wanted, when I wanted. I knew it was coming, but I wanted to remain in denial for just a little longer. It may have been against the wish of god, but god had little to do with today's world, he had no place in anyone's heart now, except for those few, now dead and walking, fools from a year or so back.
Time was slow in the present, but looking back, this past year or whatever that this situation has been limping on for, time had actually past quite quickly, but unconciously. You never really think about anything else but survival when there's hoards of hungry flesh eating bastards outside, clawing at your door with every last ounce of strength they have. Gnawing at the bloody bones of your dead neighbours, roaming their property without guilt or knowledge of the fact. Time for those things had no meaning, and as it slowly began to have less and less meaning for myself and most probably the others who were still alive in Serenity Falls, it made me think that we were slowly becoming zombies ourselves, however conscious of our actions and thoughts.
Living in this world seemed to eat away at you like a hungry beast gorging on a hefty meal, biting down on you relentlessly until you gave up and struggled against the flow no more. And it was the struggling part that I was beginning to give up on, I was losing my grip on this situation, my grip on reality as well as my own self. Whether I was still alive or not, I don't know. Maybe I had already become a zombie and I hadn't realised it and I was just viewing my past thoughts like a movie as I sat in front of it like a neglected child at their disruptive home. As I thought of this, the possibility of becoming a zombie without realising, perhaps the memory of being bitten had left my mind and I was just living my past, seemed to play on my mind for many days. I ate less as I forgot to, I barely drank and I just lay there on the floor, drooling onto the linolium, shivering with the cold that seeped through the small gaps around the entrance doors that would usually swish open like on Star Trek whenever a customer walked in its vicinity of infra-red sight.
How had I gotten into this store though? If I was one of those awkwardly mobile zombies outside, how come I had scaled the wall at the side of the building and clambered in here to watch them outside as well as continue my thoughts? Maybe I was an anomally when it comes to zombies, maybe I had become the one intelligent zombie the men on television were seeking to gain a motive for their craving for flesh. Or perhaps not. I thought some more until I lay there hungry, my stomach growling for a micro-waveable throw away meal for one. I realised then that I was still myself and that I was going to be okay, for a while at least.
The microwave had been used by myself almost everyday and was showing the signs of it too. I hadn't cleaned it, why bother? If congealed cheese was going to be the death of me, so be it. That was better and more dignified than dying from your flesh being torn from your screaming self by a hoard of faceless miscreants at the top of the food chain. Or were they at the bottom, was it preying or was it both preying and inteligence that got you to the top? I couldn't remember, so maybe that meant we were on the bottom now. Hell, a cockroach probably had better chances of survival than us, unless roaches and crickets and the like were eaten by those dulled lumbering monsters outside. I don't know, but I didn't really care to find out, or perhaps I did. Ah what the hell am I talking about? I'm fed up with this conspiracy of one bullshit. If I was going to die, so be it, but whether I go out fighting or not remains to be seen. Preferably, I want to go out taking as many of those mothers as possible, at least that meant dignity to me, going out in a rage of bullets and bloodshed, hopefully most of it theirs. If I was thinking like this, surely, the end was in sight for me, but I wasn't sure of that either, maybe I was just thinking about it prematurely, but when I kept seeing more and more of those things outside, I knew it was coming, so I figured I'd better prepare for it.
I barricaded the door at the back of the store, and I even tore the checkout to pieces to nail it across the glass entrance. This was all re-inforced by as many shelves as I could detach from the walls and freestanding units as possible, however, there weren't many that I could detach. I guess luck was what was needed after this point. Please god, let it hold, let is stay there and keep me from seeing those things outside, at least until I'm ready to go down when I'll remove the boards and bang on the glass to attract them to my flesh. At least until then, please god let me stay here a while to gain the courage to die. Please.
Now, dying was the only thing on my mind, but I didn't want to resort to suicide just yet, I figured suicide would only be the option after I take down as many of those zombies as possible and after they tear at me for a short while. I want to die quick, and it seemed multiple flesh wounds from those creatures was what was needed to end it all within an hour or so. Suicide had little dignity in my eyes, so a slow suicide seemed to be the closest, dignified option, and I had chosen it. I then made plans on how I might end it all if no other alternative salvation came along holding a basket of sanctuary coated with freedom from this jail I had made for myself.
Again, the days grew longer and slower all the time. As I thought more and more about my own impending death, I couldn't help but watch the clock tick slower and slower during the day and then through the night as the ghouls outside moaned and clambered about the surrounding landscape. They had taken over and we had lost it all. We had nothing left, they'd taken it all. The only people who had anything left was the criminals, but they had only taken what they had, so in theory, nobody had anything. We were all homeless, most of us absent of our lives and the freedom we had once known. Only the government knew anything of what we had once had. The President had been living underground for some time know, food in much excess, all the comforts he had once had, but now underground. The only thing he didn't have anymore was sunlight. At least I still had that occaisionally, but I was always indoors when it came. Those things outside were too wild for me to poke my head out on the roof. They can smell you, they know when you're around, so my option of gaining an outside life again was very dismal. But that President and all his cronies, they were all tucked away in their comfortable big beds underground, scoffing at us poor saps out in the real world. We had to cope, we had to fight, we had to die. What did Mr. President do? Sat on his growing ass and watch old tapes of his favourite shows. He wasn't the President anymore, he was just some loafer in an elevated position above all us fighters and strivers and criminals.
For many days I sat and pondered existence as we know it, or at least once knew it. I figured the end had come at last, something was in the air that told me. The stench of death once again surrounded me, there must be more of those zombies by now. They've been recruiting night and day whilst I have been suffering in here with my thoughts, slowly growing mad. Either that or the magazines really were talking to me, but if that was the case, those things outside wouldn't be there ruining it all.
The days were dreadfully long and by the time it got to today, time had almost stopped all together. I have been awake since about 3 a.m. when a crowd of those monsters came banging on the door out of curiosity. I had to stay awake if this was going to be my death, I didn't want to sleep through it. But I didn't miss anything, the noise soon stopped after a couple of mind-numbing hours which I spent catching up on the events of celebrities over a year ago. I had forgotten about most of them. I wonder if they're still around, making movies in their minds, or just swimming in their vast riches. I had heard that most of those sitcom people had died off. All those people from that show, that big sitcom set in New York, yeah, they were all dead, long since passed away. Then the movie stars started to drop, well, those that were the most foolish did, they were gone, the big stars, all glittery ways of thinking and living, gone, all gone. I think that guy out of those Die Hard movies, he was dead, just before the radio and television broadcasts went dead. That was the last piece of news I knew for sure had happened. Actually, the last piece of major news I had heard was that he was walking again soon after the funeral. Yeah, just imagine, there he was, stumbling down the road of the cemetery. Huh, that must have been some sight, especially when he attacked his reletives and his ex-wife. That was something.
But since then, for the past few months or so, I haven't heard anything but myself mumble on about anything my mind can conjour up to save me from blowing my brains out, one day to the next.
But it was today, today is the last day I have left. Those zombies that were outside this morning, they came back, this time, there was too many of them for me to fight off. I took out some of them when they crashed through the glass front of the store, but the crowd was too much. As I scrambled to make it onto the roof of the building via the stack of boxes I had fashioned some time ago, three of them bit me at once. My legs have long since lost their feeling as well as their original colour. I'm now lying in a pool of blood on the roof of my newest prison, listening to those things downstairs groaning and moaning. Tearing things off the shelves, staring into the magazine racks with dulled expressions, no emotion, just a taste for flesh. Well, they'd finally gotten some flesh, trouble is, it was mine. My right leg is barely hanging on, just by the bone itself by the looks of things. I wanted to watch those bastards down below tear up the place, so I've dragged myself nearer the roof entrance, looking down at them.
Monsters, the lost of them. Totally void of any reason or way of behaving. Just mindlessly staggering around, tearing up the place unintentionally and unknowingly.
There's only a little while left for me now. I guess I'd better quit with the memories for a second and think in the now for a bit. This was it, I had to end it all and end it quick. The final countdown had begun, I was not long for this world, but the future looked worse. Taking care of the business was what I needed to do know, and that is what I'm doing know. Finally, the gun is out of its holster, gripped in my cold hands, I hope there's still bullets left, I think I used quite a few back in the fight a few minutes ago.
This is it, this last bullet in the chamber, this is for me. This is the final solution to this problem that I live in, this world of pain, this world of suffering. I had had my innings, my time is up. Just as well as it looks as if there isn't much left for those after I die. Huh, some ending to it all, God. Nice job.