ZOMBIES. AND GIRLS. BUT MOSTLY ZOMBIES. Pt 1

ZOMBIES. AND GIRLS. BUT MOSTLY ZOMBIES. Pt 1

Okay, so this was totally not the best time to be having a crisis of confidence. But damn it, she was beautiful, smart, and funny, all that crap that makes you want to just out and tell her how you feel, and then suddenly scoop her up in your arms like somehow that will make everything alright. Of course every time I'd tried to do this I'd choked up and let the moment pass. I really needed to deal with that situation. But it totally wasn't the appropriate time. There were slightly more pressing issues at hand.

I pulled the trigger. A rather loud noise followed a puff of smoke and the eruption of a multitude of lead pellets from the barrel. They impacted their target; soggy flesh and dark crimson burst from the body and some of it splashed onto me. Damn it; I liked that jacket, but I quickly unzipped it and discarded it. It was cold. Quickly, I popped open the barrel, removed spent shells and inserted two new ones; with a satisfying click I finished loading the shotgun. I peered cautiously around, scanning the surroundings for any danger.

Fucking zombies; at least I figured they were zombies. If it was an experiment gone wrong, secret bio-weapon or just plain old black magic I didn't know. Not that I can say I cared very much. Either way: the fuckers were everywhere and vicious, if somewhat slow. I'd seen them get too many people. Too many friends: caught off guard in the middle of the confusion of the (attempted) evacuation or the numerous mishaps during this disturbingly long night. You so much as tripped over and the damn things were on you; biting and clawing and tearing. They’d slaughter men, women, children and the elderly. They'd take whatever they could get their rotting hands on.

Once you've seen your best friend's liver torn out while he screams for you to put a bullet in his head and end his misery, there's little else that can shake you. I failed him though. I couldn't do it so he's probably somewhere out there, moaning and clawing at anything with a pulse. Morbid as it is, I often find myself wondering if the beast that got him might have enjoyed a fine wine along with it. A Chianti perhaps. It was an awful, awful joke I had to keep partly sane somehow, and making light of the sheer horror that had transpired was pretty much the only way to do it. Rick would have appreciated it, though.

"Are there any more out there?" She came from behind the car that we'd ducked behind when we first heard the flesh-eater come moaning into range. "There's always more out there," this was pretty much the only thing I'd come to accept as a certainty as the long hours of the night had passed. "but, the coast appears to be clear for now." Unfortunately this wouldn't be the case for long, the air was still and the sound of the shotgun would carry far and attract shamblers for miles around.

She pointed the flashlight out across the road from the car at the doors of houses in the street. All of them were either open of already smashed in. Either the occupants had been left the house unlocked when they tried to escape or like many had been killed trying to escape, overpowered by a horde of slobbering monsters. The wrecked doors were the sign of survivor parties already having looted the houses for supplies. In either case it was too dangerous to risk exploring them: zombies were slow enough on open ground, it was the darkness and the sheer numbers that made them so dangerous, but putting yourself in the confines of an unsecured house was just asking for trouble. Getting cornered by these creatures was pretty much the last thing you wanted to do.
"Try the next street over, then?" She asked. I'd somehow taken on the leadership position in our group from the start, which is a complete contradiction of my lack of leadership skills, decisiveness or general heroics: but even when there were six of us I was calling the shots for some reason. The two of us cautiously made our way past the abandoned houses. They looked normal and unassuming for the most part, except for the aforementioned broken doors and the occasional debris indicative of a struggle. Oh, and the blood that streaked many a wall and stretch of pavement.

The thoughts from earlier crept back into my mind. Why isn't this a good time? I mean, we've got a moment of relative safety and the way things are going if I don't tell her now I might never get the chance at all. I looked ahead; at her rather than where we were going. Well, the shape of her I could make out against the slowly encroaching dawn and the bright projection of the flashlight. She was slightly shorter than I, but she was by no means small. Long, dark hair flowed past her shoulders and disappeared into the fine-figured silhouette that presented itself in the morning that was struggling to arrive. 'I need to make a move while it's still safe.' I thought. But this was soon countered by a mix of practicality and self doubt. 'It's not really appropriate to drop this on her in the middle of the bloody zombie-apocalypse! Besides, who said she feels the same way about you?'

This internal battle played out in my mind while I quietly followed her lead towards the next block of houses. "Hey! Look! One of the houses looks to be untouched, windows are fine, and the door is closed." I snapped to attention and looked across at the house she was indicating. The door was average sized but sturdy looking, a plain timbre frame and red-brick surrounding it. No flashy windows and a metal roof. It looked reasonably secure from the outside. It appeared that we might be able to use this as a hiding place for a while, as long as there were adequate supplies; our rations were starting to run low, and we both doubted the nutritional value of a couple of boxes of chocolate biscuits and six pack of diet coke anyway. All that remained to be seen was if we could get inside without busting the lock and compromising the apparent security.