Salvation is Fleeting

Whoever came up with the saying "ignorance is bliss", left out the most important part. Ignorance is bliss to whoever made you ignorant. It just makes it easier to get people to do what you want them to. Control is bliss. That sounds better. That makes more sense.

Control is what they did. The media that is... The initial start of the outbreak was postered as isolated cases. Local events. Of course now, we know it was all a lie. By trying to avoid panic they created it. If they had informed everyone... Maybe... Maybe things would be different.

Maybe people would have been more cautious. It's to late now. Now, those who controlled are gone, anarchy is the new regime, where there was money, there is only survival. Survive for what? Who knows. I'm just happy to be alive.

Even if it's life in a Zombie Apocalypse.

More to come 

 

His hand trembled as he reached for the door. Desperatly inching to grab hold of the handle, blood dripping down to the ground. Suddenly, he hears a terrifyingly recognizable scream. Then heavy footsteps, slow moving, almost trailling approached towards him.

He couldn't be deterred, he crawled a bit closer to the door, his leg still bleeding. The creeper came around the corner. He could now see it, its eyes had sunken into his face and big dark circles under them were tainted in blood. The creeper's leg seemed to be broken, his trapped almost worked he thought.

Almost instantly after laying it's eyes on Decker did the ferociously, lunge at him. Any humanity was long gone from this damned creature. Decker quickly gave up reaching for the door knob and grabbed for his shovel that happened to be much closer.

 

Chapter 1 - Countdown

Three days before the outbreak

Back then, I hated my life. I didn't have a girlfriend, I had no real friends, I lived in a crummy appartment... Sure I had gotten what I thought was my dream job, a journalist on the local news. However, after only a year, I had been disillusioned by the firm, unforgiving pull of reality. Every story to be aired was monitered and filtered. Every angle was manufactured to sensationalize. Priority was given to the unimportant. I felt overwhelmed, I felt cheap. I felt like a liar.

I remember thinking about my next story that day. I sat reading the paper, looking for a story I could follow-up on. Anything sad but not tragic, we can always make things tragic, anything scary like disease or war, anything about a celebrity, anything for the ratings. I remember looking at the paper that day, because it was filled with an astonishing amount of fatal crashes, accidents and rioting. One headline in particular stood out because it was a local event that occured late last night. Two men dead. A driver dies when pedestrian leaped head-on into his moving car.

...

Present day

As the creeper was just above him, Decker trusted with what strength he had left and his shovel found itself lodged inside the creepers head. Now to get into this room he thought.After resting a bit, listening to see if any other creepers would show, Decker finally turns over and again attempts to reach the door knob. Now appeased by the thought that he was finally safe, he took the time to crawl closer to the door, making sure he didn't drag his leg onto the blood on the floor. He hoisted himself to a sit up against the door using the handle. Pain shot through him as he attempted to stand. The pain being so unbearable, he remained as he was and turned the knob and slowly opened the door as his free hand reached for the shovel. Just in case he thought.

As the door opened, it also allowed Decker to pull himself into the room as it inched open. Slowly pulling his body into the room with his one arm, he held the shovel in the other on his lap. He peeked around the open door to see if anyone, or anything was there. Nothing. Seeing that the room was empty, Decker pulled in his legs slowly, trying to minimize movement to his injured leg.

Suddenly a loud, sharp scream could be heard echoing from the floors belowl. Not waiting to see what had made the sound, Decker hurried his movement and quickly shut the door behind him.

 

...

Three days before the outbreak

Later that same day, I still couldn't come up with a story. Well, I had a story in mind but I didn't know what i could say about it. It was a clear cut story and yet I still wanted to follow up on it.

A man is running down an empty street late at night. Suddenly, a car comes into view coming up an intersecting street. The man starts running faster. The driver doesn't see the man and never does. At the intersection where both streets meet, the running man leaps head first into the driver side window of the car. The window shatters, the man's head is busted open. The driver is surprised and blinded by the splattered blood in his eyes and windshield. He swirves and crashes into an electric pole. He survives the crash but dies from attempting to exit the vehicule. Power cables on street caused death by electrocution.

It was a perfect story. It was local, uncommon and sad. All i needed was an angle. Drunk driving? Freak accident? Successful run at suicide? Mental instability? Stressed related? I didn't know what to write. I had to investigate further. Get more facts.

 

...

Present day

Furtively, Decker looked around the room, he had to find a way out. He could see a small wooden table of simple design on his left that was probably used as a desk, in front of it, an old wooden chair with uneven legs. Against the wall, a tattered sofa with a small coffee table in the middle of the room infront of it. There were no windows. Again, the high pitched howl was heard, but this time it was much closer. The creature was in the hall. Decker looked up to the door. There wasn't a lock. This wasn't good, he thought to himself. Looking around again, he made his way to the sofa. As fast as his injured leg would allow him, Decker began to move the small sofa up against the door. Every inch and shove sent agony down his leg and up his entire body. Finally, having been pushing from the back of the sofa, he felt the resistance of the door behind him.

Almost instantly, the bangs on the door began. It must have heard all the commotion figured Decker. Knowing full well that his make shift blockade wouldn't last, Decker reached for his shovel and used it as a hook to pull the little table by his side. What's a little more noise now that it knows I'm here? He thought to himself. After a difficult start, Decker finally managed to bring the table closer. He then flipped it over to it's side and began hacking at the old wooden legs with the shovel. After a couple good hits, the first leg came off. He then repeated the same procedure with the second leg. Once he had done that, he then undid his belt and took it off. Using the table legs and his belt, painfully, Decker braced his leg. He shouted as he tightened the belt around his leg sandwiched between the two pieces of wood. One problem solved, he thought comically. As he started to stand, he turned to see that the door was beginning to crack and splinter. I can never get a break, he smirked.

 

Barely able to stand and exhausted to the point where only his instinct for survival and the pain and pressure on his leg kept him awake, Decker prepared for the worse. Now facing the door he watched as the split in the center of it widened. Waiting in excruiating agony for the right moment to act. He only had one chance. He hoped that the creature would peer it's head through the opening once the gap was wide enough. Just that moment for him to shove his shovel straight through the gap into it's head.

It seemed like forever. Again, the creature wailed a high pitched cry. Almost deafening now that it was just inches away. Then suddenly, the banging stopped. A million thoughts rushed throught Decker's mind. Only one persisted. What happened? He asked himself over and over. Silence had settled in. An uncomfortable silence. The type you noticed and couldn't shake off. The kind that made the world seem as if it had frozen and left you alone with your thoughts.

Just as the silence became the new torment in Decker's mind, as abrutly as it had stopped, a loud "THUD" broke through the silence, followed by the cracking of wood. The door finally gave him and had even sent the sofa hurling at decker, who stood only a foot or two from it. The impact and the surprise had knocked him backwards causing him to trip on the broken table behind him. As he fell he hit the back of his head on the edge of the coffee table. Silence and darkness were the last things to fill his mind.

 

...

Three days before the outbreak

I started digging in all the usual places. I called up the police station, the coroner, the morgue, the family of the deceased... Of course I didn't expect to get much out of it, but you get use to it. After the fifth unanswered call to the recently dead running man, Joey DeFacto. I decided to stop by the morgue to pay a little visit to an old friend of mine. Needless to say it wasn't my first trip to the big freezer.

Overtime, I'd made good friends with the some of the staff there. One of which happened to be the Useless doctor. His name was Bob, as common as a name could get. He was one of the doctors running the morgue. I call him the useless doctor because the docs are of better use to the living. I was greeted by the security guard at the front, Tyrone, he could have been a bouncer with his physic. Not that he was muscular. He was the other kind of big guy and had an intimidating appearance. Luckily, after so many repeated visits, he warmed up to me. Or so I liked to believe. He never looked up at me from behind his deck, reading his paper. I liked to imagine he had a grave look under his cap. I signed the registry and made my way to Bob's office. I knocked on the door and noticed that it was already partially open. Bob's familiar voice welcomed me, as if expecting my arrival.

- I'm told you called a few times. Bob said.

I didn't answer. He was always so well informed. Nothing escaped his vigilance. I guess that's why he's one of the best in his line of work. He noticed what others didn't. Just as I finally mustered what to say in my mind, he began to stand and spoke.

- Very well then, I suppose you'd like to see the body.

He walked past me and exited the office. I followed, closing the door behind me. We went down the long, eery corridor leading to the storage room i called the freezer. It was a cramped corridor with stretchers on both sides of it. Not all were empty.

 

We continued till we were at the end of the hall. Before we entered, Bob turned forward me.

- Now then, before we go in there, I gotta warn you, its pretty gruesome and the smell... The god awful smell... You haven't seen anything like it. As a matter of fact, neither have I. And I like to think I've seen it all.

At first I didn't think anything of his warning. It's just another body I figured. It's not the first I've seen. I thought bob just wanted to give me the willies. I guess I forgot that Bob rarely made jokes. Not that his warning would have prepared me for what I was about to experience.

He opened the doors and we walked towards the row of lockers. Meat lockers in a sense. We finally stopped at a locker with an examining table right next to it. The moment Bob pulled it open, the most horrifying, nauseating smell began to emit and to rapidly fill the room. It was unlike anything I'd ever smelled in my life. It was horrible. My eyes began to tear, my hands shot to my mouth and nose as my gag reflex kicked in. I could taste it and felt the smell filling my lungs. I looked up at Bob, who, in my surprise, had pulled out a mask to cover his face. I would have said something but I was afraid of opening my mouth. When finally, the body came out. I never knew what could possibly have emitted such a god awful smell, but somehow I understood when I laid my eyes on the it. It's head was partially gone from the impact with the car. Bruises were all over his body. Infectious puss leaked from every pour in his body. His skin was peeling and it looked as if he was decomposing. His skin was a mix of green and blue. Finally I managed to speak.

- I thought you guys kept these bodies in cold storage to avoid this kind of thing. And don't you wash the bodies down? What's with all that fluid coming out of him?

As if expecting the question Bob was quick to explain.

- Believe it or not, we did wash it down. But the body just won't stop leaking. As for the look, that's how we got him, he already looked like he'd been decomposing for a couple days now.

Then, a noise coming from the hallway caught our attention.

 

…

Chapter 2 – Surprise

Present day

Cautiously, I began to push the now opened door. I wasn't sure what to expect so I opened it with the tip of my baseball bat. It gave a bit of resistance. When the opening was finally wide enough, I found out the cause of the resistance. It was a couch.

It seems that Decker had barricaded the door with it and with good reason. When we got on this floor, a Howler was bashing against the door. Luckily for us, Alan had the crossbow with him. The first shot hit it at the base of its abnormally long neck. We'd gotten its attention. It turned towards us, its jaw dropped freakishly low before letting out a loud howl. Quickly, Alan managed to reload and shot an arrow right through its mouth. We hurriedly rushed at it and I swung my bat as it tried to bite me, taking advantage of the reach its long neck provided.

It was the decisive blow. The Howler went down and just to make sure it wouldn't get up again I crushed its head under my heavy boot. When the door was wide enough for us to enter, I noticed a pool of blood on the floor. I called out quietly to see if Decker was alright. We got no answer.

I went in first, Alan covered me with the crossbow from the doorway. My eyes followed the pool of blood to Decker laying on the floor clutching onto his shovel. I quickly called Alan and went to inspect the body. I could see he tried to mend his broken leg. There was lot of blood and I couldn't tell if all of it was his. Alan came over and checked for a pulse. He couldn't find one. Decker was dead. We were to late, he bled out.

- Great... This is just great! I killed Decker. How the... What do we...

I didn't know what to say. My emotions had gotten the best of me. It was frustrating. Alan tried to comfort me.

- We don't know that! Maybe be fell before we came in, his leg was broken. Maybe he tripped! If not us, maybe the howler would have busted the door open and killed him. We don't know!

I could tell that Alan was in the same state as me. He just tried to reason himself into believing it wasn't our doing. My doing. There was an awkward silence for a moment. We stood there, not knowing what to think even less what to say. I suppose that's why we were taken by surprise.

 

From the corner of my eye, I had barely gotten a glance at the approaching shadow before I found my self on the ground wrestling, trying to keep zombie Decker's salivating mug away from me. I pressed my bat against his throat, barely keeping him inches from my face. I screamed repeatedly at Alan.

- Get him off me! Get him off!

Alan was still under the shock, when he finally regained some sense he raised his crossbow and prepared to fire.

- Stop moving! I can't get a clear shot! He replied.

- Don't shoot! Get him off! Just get him off! I cried back.

The last thing I wanted was Alan to miss and shoot me instead. Not that Alan was a terrible shot. He just wasn't an ace either. To be honest, I was more worried about the blood that would gush out of Decker's brain right onto my face. Alan finally positioned himself behind Decker and pulled him off me. I immediately swung my bat at Decker's broken leg. The wood shattered and he fell to the floor. I quickly got up on my feet ready to follow through but Alan had already pull the trigger. An arrow lodged itself right in-between his eyes.

 

Whoever came up with the saying "ignorance is bliss", left out the most important part. Ignorance is bliss to whoever made you ignorant. It just makes it easier to get people to do what you want them to. Control is bliss. That sounds better. That makes more sense. Control is what they did. The media that is... The initial start of the outbreak was reported as isolated cases. Local events. Of course now, we know it was all a lie, by trying to avoid panic they created it. If only they had informed everyone. Maybe... Maybe things would be different.

Maybe people would have been more cautious. It's to late now. Now, those who controlled are gone and anarchy is the new regime. Where there was money, there is only survival. Survive for what you may ask? Who knows. I'm just happy to be alive.

Even if it's life in a Zombie Apocalypse.

...

Preface


His hand trembled as he reached for the door. Desperately inching to grab hold of the handle, blood dripping down to the ground. Suddenly, he hears a terrifyingly recognizable scream, followed by slow moving, heavy footsteps which seemed to be almost trailing, approaching closer to him. He couldn't be deterred, he crawled a bit closer to the door, his leg still bleeding. The Creeper peered around the corner. He could now see it, its eyes had sunken into its face and large dark circles under them were tainted in blood. The creeper's leg seemed to be broken, his trap had almost worked he thought.

Almost instantly after laying its eyes on Decker, did the creeper ferociously lunge at him. Any humanity was long gone from this damned creature. Decker quickly gave up reaching for the door knob and grabbed his shovel which to be much closer.

...

Chapter 1 - Countdown


Three days before the outbreak

Back then, I hated my life. I didn't have a girlfriend, I had no real friends, I lived in a crummy apartment... Sure I had gotten what I thought was my dream job, a journalist on the local news. However, after only a year, I had been disillusioned by the firm, unforgiving pull of reality. Every story to be aired was monitored and filtered. Every angle was manufactured to sensationalize. Priority was given to the unimportant. I felt overwhelmed, I felt cheap. I felt like a liar.


I remember thinking about my next story that day. I sat reading the paper, looking for a story I could follow-up on. Anything sad but not tragic, we can always make things tragic, anything scary like disease or war, anything about a celebrity, anything for the ratings. I remember looking at the paper that day, because it was filled with an astonishing amount of fatal crashes, accidents and rioting. One headline in particular stood out because it was a local event that occurred late last night. Two men dead. A driver dies when pedestrian jumped head-on, into his moving moving vehicle.

...

Present day

The creeper was just above him now, Decker thrusted his shovel with what strength he had left and it found itself lodged inside the Creeper's head. Now to get into this room he thought. After resting a bit, listening to see if any other Creepers would show, Decker finally turns over and again attempts to reach the door knob. Now appeased by the thought that he was finally safe, he took the time to crawl closer to the door, making sure he didn't drag his leg onto the blood on the floor. He hoisted himself to sit up against the door using the knob. Pain shot through him as he attempted to stand. The pain being so unbearable, he remained as he was and turned the knob and slowly opened the door as his free hand reached for the shovel. Just in case he thought.

As the door opened, it also allowed Decker to pull himself into the room as it inched open. Slowly pulling his body into the room with his one arm, he held the shovel on his lap with the other. He peeked around the open door to see if anyone, or anything was there. Nothing. Seeing that the room was empty, Decker pulled in his legs slowly, trying to minimize movement to his injured leg.

Suddenly a loud, sharp scream could be heard echoing from the floors below. Not waiting to see what had made the sound, Decker hurried his movement and quickly shut the door behind him.

...

Three days before the outbreak

Later that same day, I still couldn't come up with a story. Well, I had a story in mind but I didn't know what i could say about it. It was a clear cut story and yet I still wanted to follow up on it.

A man is running down an empty street late at night. Suddenly, a car comes into view coming up an intersecting street. The man starts running faster. The driver doesn't see the man and never does. At the intersection where both streets meet, the running man leaps head first into the driver side window of the car. The window shatters, the man's head is busted open. The driver is surprised and blinded by the splattered blood in his eyes and windshield. He swerves and crashes into an electric pole. He survives the crash but dies from attempting to exit the vehicle. Fallen power cables on the street caused death by electrocution.

It was a perfect story. It was local, uncommon and sad. All i needed was an angle. Drunk driving? Freak accident? Successful run at suicide? Mental instability? Stressed related? I didn't know what to write. I had to investigate further. I had to get more facts.

...

Present day

Furtively, Decker looked around the room, he had to find a way out. He could see a small wooden table of simple design on his left that was probably used as a desk, in front of it, an old wooden chair with uneven legs. Against the wall in front of him, a tattered sofa with a small coffee table in the middle of the room in-front of it. There were no windows. Again, the high pitched howl was heard, but this time it was much closer. The creature was in the hall. Decker looked up to the door. There wasn't a lock. This wasn't good, he thought to himself. Looking around again, he made his way to the sofa. As fast as his injured leg would allow him, Decker began to move the small sofa up against the door. Every inch and shove sent agony down his leg and up his entire body. Finally, having been pushing from the back of the sofa, he felt the resistance of the door behind him.

Almost instantly, the bangs on the door began. It must have heard all the commotion figured Decker. Knowing full well that his make shift blockade wouldn't last, Decker reached for his shovel and used the corner of the spade as a hook to pull the little table by his side. What's a little more noise now that it knows I'm here? He thought to himself. After a difficult start, Decker finally managed to bring the table closer. He then flipped it over to it's side and began hacking at the old wooden legs with the shovel. After a couple good hits, the first leg came off. He then repeated the same procedure with the second leg. Once he had done that, he then undid his belt and took it off. Using the table legs and his belt, painfully, Decker braced his leg. He shouted as he tightened the belt around his leg sandwiched between the two pieces of wood. One problem solved, he thought comically. As he started to stand, he turned to see that the door was beginning to crack and splinter. I can never get a break, he smirked.

Barely able to stand and exhausted to the point where only his instinct for survival and the pain and pressure on his leg kept him awake, Decker prepared for the worse. Now facing the door he watched as the split in the centre of it widened. Waiting in excruciating agony for the right moment to act. He only had one chance. He hoped that the creature would peer it's head through the opening once the gap was wide enough. Just that one moment for him to shove his shovel straight through the gap into its head.

It seemed like forever. Again, the creature wailed a high pitched cry. Almost deafening now that it was just inches away. Then suddenly, the banging stopped. A million thoughts rushed through Decker's mind. Only one persisted. What happened? He asked himself over and over. Silence had settled in. An uncomfortable silence. The type you noticed and couldn't shake off. The kind that made the world seem as if it had frozen and left you alone with your thoughts.

Just as the silence became the new torment in Decker's mind, as abruptly as it had stopped, a loud "THUD" broke through the silence, followed by the cracking of wood. The door finally gave in and had even sent the sofa hurling at decker, who stood only a foot or two from it. The impact and the surprise had knocked him backwards causing him to trip on the broken table behind him. As he fell he hit the back of his head on the edge of the coffee table. Silence and darkness were the last things to fill his mind.

...

Three days before the outbreak

I started digging in all the usual places. I called up the police station, the coroner, the morgue, the family of the deceased... Of course I didn't expect to get much out of it, but you get use to it. After the fifth unanswered call to the recently dead running man, Joey DeFacto's residence. I decided to stop by the morgue to pay a little visit to an old friend of mine. Needless to say it wasn't my first trip to the big freezer.

Overtime, I'd made good friends with the some of the staff there. One of which happened to be the Useless doctor. His name was Bob, as common as a name could get. He was one of the doctors running the morgue. I call him the Useless doctor because the docs are of better use to the living. I was greeted by the security guard at the front, Tyrone, he could have been a bouncer with his physic. Not that he was muscular. He was the other kind of big guy and had an intimidating appearance. Luckily, after so many repeated visits, he warmed up to me. Or so I liked to believe. He never looked up at me from behind his deck, reading his paper. I liked to imagine he had a grave look under his cap. I signed the registry and made my way to Bob's office. I knocked on the door and noticed that it was already partially open. Bob's familiar voice welcomed me, as if expecting my arrival.

- I'm told you called a few times. Bob said.

I didn't answer. He was always well informed. Nothing escaped his vigilance. I guess that's why he's one of the best in his line of work. He noticed what others didn't. Just as I finally mustered what to say in my mind, he began to stand and spoke.

- Very well then, I suppose you'd like to see the body.

He walked past me and exited the office. I followed, closing the door behind me. We went down the long, eery corridor leading to the storage room i called the freezer. It was a cramped corridor with stretchers on both sides of it. Not all were empty.

We continued till we were at the end of the hall. Before we entered, Bob turned towards me.

- Now then, before we go in there, I have to warn you, its pretty gruesome and the smell... The god awful smell... You haven't seen anything like it. As a matter of fact, neither have I. And I like to think I've seen it all.

At first I didn't think anything of his warning. It's just another body I figured. It's not the first I've seen. I thought Bob just wanted to give me the willies. I guess I forgot that Bob rarely made jokes. Not that his warning would have prepared me for what I was about to experience.

He opened the doors and we walked towards the row of lockers. Meat lockers in a sense. We finally stopped at a locker with an examining table right next to it. The moment Bob pulled it open, the most horrifying, nauseating smell began to emit and to rapidly fill the room. It was unlike anything I'd ever smelled in my life. It was horrible. My eyes began to tear, my hands shot to my mouth and nose as my gag reflex kicked in. I could taste it and felt the smell filling my lungs. I looked up at Bob, who, in my surprise, had pulled out a mask to cover his face. I would have said something but I was afraid of opening my mouth. Then, the body came out. I couldn't imagine what could possibly have emitted such a repugnant smell, but somehow I understood when I laid my eyes on the corpse. Its head was partially gone from the impact with the car. He was covered in bruises of all shapes. Infectious puss leaked from every pore in his body. His skin was peeling and it looked as if he was decomposing. His skin was a mix of green, blue, purple and brown. Finally I managed to speak.

- I thought you guys kept these bodies in cold storage to avoid this kind of thing. And don't you wash the bodies down? What's with all that fluid coming out of him?

As if expecting the question Bob was quick to explain.

- Believe it or not, we did wash it down. But the body just won't stop leaking. As for the look, that's how we got him, he already looked like he'd been decomposing for a couple days now.

Then, a noise coming from the hallway caught our attention.

…

Chapter 2 – Surprise


Present day

Cautiously, I began to push the now opened door. I wasn't sure what to expect so I opened it with the tip of my baseball bat. It gave a bit of resistance. When the opening was finally wide enough, I found out the cause of the resistance. It was a couch.

It seems that Decker had barricaded the door with it and with good reason. When we got on this floor, a Howler was bashing against the door. Luckily for us, Alan had the crossbow with him. The first shot hit it at the base of its abnormally long neck. We'd gotten its attention. It turned towards us, its jaw dropped freakishly low before letting out a loud howl. Quickly, Alan managed to reload and shot an arrow right through its mouth. We hurriedly rushed at it and I swung my bat as it tried to bite me, taking advantage of the reach its long neck provided.

It was the decisive blow. The Howler went down and just to make sure it wouldn't get up again I crushed its head under my heavy boot. When the door was wide enough for us to enter, I noticed a pool of blood on the floor. I called out quietly to see if Decker was alright. We got no answer.

I went in first, Alan covered me with the crossbow from the doorway. My eyes followed the pool of blood to Decker laying on the floor clutching onto his shovel. I quickly called Alan and went to inspect the body. I could see he tried to mend his broken leg. There was lot of blood and I couldn't tell if all of it was his. Alan came over and checked for a pulse. He couldn't find one. Decker was dead. We were to late, he bled out.

- Great... This is just great! I killed Decker. How the... I mean what do we...

I didn't know what to say. My emotions had gotten the best of me. It was frustrating. Alan tried to comfort me.

- We don't know that! Maybe be fell before we came in, his leg was broken. Maybe he tripped! If not us, maybe the howler would have busted the door open and killed him. We don't know!

I could tell that Alan was in the same state as me. He just tried to reason himself into believing it wasn't our doing. My doing. There was an awkward silence for a moment. We stood there, not knowing what to think even less what to say. I suppose that's why we were taken by surprise.

From the corner of my eye, I had barely gotten a glance at the approaching shadow before I found my self on the ground wrestling, trying to keep zombie Decker's salivating mug away from me. I pressed my bat against his throat, barely keeping him inches from my face. I screamed repeatedly at Alan.

- Get him off me! Get him off!

Alan was still under the shock, when he finally regained some sense he raised his crossbow and prepared to fire.

- Stop moving! I can't get a clear shot! He replied.

- Don't shoot! Get him off! Just get him off! I cried back.

The last thing I wanted was Alan to miss and shoot me instead. Not that Alan was a terrible shot. He just wasn't an ace either. To be honest, I was more worried about the blood that would gush out of Decker's brain right onto my face. Alan finally positioned himself behind Decker and pulled him off me. I immediately swung my bat at Decker's broken leg. The wood shattered and he fell to the floor. I quickly got up on my feet ready to follow through but Alan had already pulled the trigger. An arrow lodged itself right in-between his eyes.

 

After a while we just stood there. We weren't really sure what to do next. Everything's happened so fast that we've only been able to react so far. Now that we have some time to think nothing came to mind. What was there to think about? I guess Alan took less time than me to get a grip of reality.

- What do we do with the body? He asked.

I turned my head to Alan, as if unsure of what he meant althought I knew clear as day what he meant. I turned my attention to Decker's motionless body.

- We do like the others. We burn it. Grab the couch cushions and the busted table. I'll carry Decker. I finally said to Alan.

I'd never felt like I did in that moment. The hall seemed to go on for miles and when we finally reached the stairs, it felt like we were decending an endless spiral to hell. We were quiet the whole way. Half of it was because we didn't know what to say and half of it was because you could never be too sure whether or not another one of those things were around.

When we got outside, the streets were deserted and the sky was grey. Alan laid the table upside down on the ground. He then placed the cushions side by side on top. He then proceeded to walk over to a trash can and picked up some scraps of paper. He rolled them up and pulled out his lighter and lit the make-shift torch. I laid Decker's body on the cushions and then removed his knee and elbow pads. I then took a step back.

- Care to say a few words? Alan finally asked.

- No. I don't think there's anything to say. I replied.

And with that, Alan placed the torch between the two cushions and soon a blaze started under Decker. It would have been a moving moment, yet we couldn't stick around to bask in it. We were losing sunlight and we had to head home. Atleast, the closest thing we could call home in this dark world.

 

...

Three days before the outbreak

Tyrone appeared at the entrance of the freezer. He was much more imposing when he was standing. The paramedics standing beside him were almost dwarfed in comparaison.

- Hey Doc, the paramedics are here with the other body. Tyrone said to Bob.

Bob pulled down his mask and gestured to the paramedic to come in as he spoke to Tyrone.

- Thank you Tyrone. Let me know when the detectives are to arrive.

With that, Tyrone nodded in acknowledgment and turned around before disappearing into the hallway. I shifted my attention to the bodybag being transferred from the stretcher onto an adjacent examination table. One of the men took a clipboard from the stretcher and handed it to Bob who quickly signed it and returned it.

I guess the medics didn't like the smell either seeing as they never said a word and by quickly they headed for the exit. However, before they could reach the door, Bob stopped them and asked.

- Why didn't you unzip the bag to confirm you brought the right body?

The two men looked at each other. The tallest was the one to answer.

- Umm... Well you see... It already smelled so horrible in here that we didn't want to make matters worse.

The two medics then continued off into the hallway like Tyrone before them. I remembered asking myself how they could possibly have made the smell any worse than it already was. Any other smell would have simply been overpowered by the odor the body was emitting. I turned my attention again to Bob who'd already put his mask back up.

- Who's in the other bag? I asked.

Bob gestured to a cabinet behind me. I turned and walked over to open it. Inside, I saw a box of heavy duty masks. I smirked as I put one on and walked back towards Bob.

The smell wasn't as strong and that slight difference was enough to appease my nostrils. The sensation was short lived. Almost regretting having asked, Bob unzipped the body bag and the vile, putrid odor once again overwhelmed my sense of smell. It was worse this time. My eyes began to water. I couldn't even taste the puke that came up to my mouth. I turned away from the source of the smell. I couldn't even begin to phantom how much worse it could have been without my mask.

Curiousity finally got the better of me as I turned to face the body. I took a step back purely for its psychological effect. I was relieved to see Bob do the same. I looked down at the body. Its skin was pale blue and it seemed to be cracking despite the clear liquid it seemed to be secreeting. I was astonished as to how the skin condition ressembled that of the previous body.

- It seems like they were keeping this one in cold storage as well. I guess it was in an attempt to minimize the smell. Bob finally remarqued.

- Minimize the smell?! I can barely stand to stay in this room as is! I snapped back.

- Well consider yourself lucky then. Both the bodies were in cold storage to conserve the bodies and as a bonus, reduce the smell. In any case this fellow here is the driver of the car that Joey over there ran into. Bob said as he motioned at the other body.

- How come they just brought this one in now? I asked.

- Because he still showed some sign of life when they found him. Bob retorqued.

- What do you mean? I thought he died electrocuted trying to get out of his car. How could he have survived that? I asked.

Just then, a voice originating from the door made itself heard.

- That's what we'd like to know and what you won't be hearing tonight. Said the man standing at the door.

...

Present day

It was getting dark sooner than i had anticipated. I guess we were losing sunlight sooner seeing as it was now mid-autumn. I was starting to think if it would be better to camp for the night. There was still quite a distance to travel before we would reach the outskirts of the Block. The trouble was that there weren't many places we could easily secure with just me, Alan and Sam. Sam had been waiting for us at the camp site to watch the gear when we went looking for Decker. We were lucky to have her. She was one of the few survivors that can actually be useful during a recon mission.

Alan was the one leading the way with Sam in the middle and me making up the rear. We walked straight down the middle of the street. Its always safer than walking close to the buildings. More time to react if one or more of those things were to jump out of the shadows.

Alan stopped abrutly and motioned at about 6 crawlers not so far away. Sam and I hurriedly joined Alan. I could see them more clearly now. There were 7 of them. They were tearing away at the carcus of an unfortunate victim of fate. Unluckly for us, there was no way around. The damn things somehow found themselves in the middle of an intersection. We only had one option. We had to face them.

 

They didn't seem to be aware of our presence so we decided to prepare for the confrontation. Alan kept an eye on them while me and Sam geared up.

I unhooked the hockey gloves hanging from my belt. I had modified them with a clip at the end for that sole purpose. Living in montreal hockey gloves were common items that ensured great safety. They were made to protect your hands from wayward pucks and unpleasent sticking while still giving the wearer the ability to handle a hockey stick. Of course now they were used to guard my hands from bites and scratches and to wield my baseball bat.

Sam did the same except she used them to wield two butcher knives. I guess she liked them since any other weapon would be heavy to use and she didnt have the striking power to get one hit kills with a bat. The gloves made up for the short range since it kept her hands safe even if bitten.

Our hands are essential tools in this apocalyptic world. They are the basis of any weapon we use so we pay close attention to them. But just as important was our face. Blood splatter is a serious issue. I put my scarf up to cover my mouth and nose. Sam and Alan did the same. Even tho it was pretty dark I put on my aviators. Only Sam did the same since Alan had to see where he was shooting.

Once finished we left our backpacks on the ground and the three of us began a slow and weary approach towards the crawlers. Alan only had a few arrows left so he brought Decker's shovel with him. We got as close as we felt safe. We got down on the street laying on our bellies and crawled a little closer to try and improve Alan's range. They couldn't be more than 30 feet away. Alan lined up his crossbow. The first shot hit a crawler in the shoulder. They were aware of us now. They turned towards us. Alan began to reload as Sam and I got up waiting for them.

The crawlers were now running at us. One of them goes down as an arrow went right through his nose. Only six left I thought. They were getting very close now. Maybe 14 or 15 feet from us closing in fast. Alan's last arrow stuck into a creepers leg. He put down the crossbow and picked up Decker's shovel.

I began running at the creepers. Alan and Sam followed. The distance was closing fast. Time began to slow down. Seven feet away, I tightened my grip around my bat. Five feet away, I could now see the ugly features on their decaying blood soaked face. Four feet, my heart is racing as adrenaline rushes through my veins. Two feet away, I begin swinging my bat. Then, impact.

 

At that very moment, everything halted to a complete stop. I stopped breathing, I stopped thinking. My heart stopped racing. I'm not sure why, but the one thing that filled my mind at that moment was a song. A song I never fully grasped until that very moment. "There nothing to lose, when no one knows your name" Everything began to move again. My heart was racing, I was breathing but my mind was like a radio. Playing a song for that very moment in life...

My bat came crashing down on the first creeper. The sneaky bastard dodged and I just missed his head crushing his shoulder instead. Smart creeper... As I drew my bat up again, the damned thing took a shot at my hand, trying to bite me. It got a mouthful of air. "Theres nothing to gain, cuz the days don't seem to change" the lyrics rocked around my head. Just then, I barely jumped out to my left to avoid another creeper coming from behind me. I would have been done for if Sam hadn't called out. I got back on my feet and as I regained my balance, I looked to see the first creeper was already running at me. This time I brought my bat upwards and laid a hit right at the creeper's chin. Its head was knocked back and before it could come back down again, I swung my bat accross its face and the creeper hit the ground deader than it already was.

There wasn't anytime to think or to feel. I could only react. React and follow the tune of Billy Talent as it played in my head. Nothing to lose, the song that was just a wandering thought but became my reason for that brief moment in time. "Never played truth or dare, I'd have to check my mirror to see if i'm still here". I just stood there. My bat lowered. I stared at the second creeper that had just missed taking my life secondes ago. It was coming straight at me. I let my bat fall to ground. The creeper lunged at me. I grabbed it by the collar and threw it to the ground. "There's nothing to lose, when no one knows your name". I swiftly jumped on top of the creeper keeping it pinned under my weight. "There's nothing to gain, but the days don't seem to change". Any reason in me was gone. I began to hum to the music as I landed blow after blow onto the creepers face. Blood splattered everywhere. I could barely see throught my blood tainted aviators. I could feel the creepers face beginning to disolve into mush under the constant barrage of my protected fists.

It was blissful yet revolting. It was as thrilling as it must have seemed terrifying to Alan and Sam. That's if they were even still alive. It was the very idea of madness. The embodiement of the word in every sense. My eyes began to water yet I smirked. It was reason trying to break throught insanity. It was my feelings trying to break free. It was what a man had become. It was what I had become. It wasn't me. It couldn't be.

I heard Sam calling out to me. Alan tapped me on the shoulder. Reality came rushing in.

 

I rose up slowly. Blood and pieces of flesh dripped off my gloves. I just stood there. The author of the bloody mess at my feet. I turned towards the bags and glimpsed at the other four zombies Alan and Sam had disposed of. I still made the biggest mess. I began to walk towards our waiting packs. I removed my aviators first, pulling out paper from my coat pocket to wipe them with. I tossed the paper and pulled down my scarf.

- Let's keep moving. I mumbled under my breath.

I couldn't let them see me like this. I placed my aviators into its case and put it back in mu pocket. I guess Alan and Sam understood. They followed and we continued our walk back to the Block.

Chapter 3 - The Block

We walked for another hour before we reached the outskirts of the Block. No one really said anything. There wasn't really anything to be said. I guess the tension that came with the silence was to much for Alan and Sam. The occasional "I can't wait to just lay in bed." and "Man I wish we'd get there already." broke the silence. We walked into the block and didn't go very far before a familiar voice called out.

- Don't go crossing a lake when you can't swim. The voice called out.

- We'll just walk over the heads of crocs. Sam screamed back.

- Watch out on Cote-St-Catherine street. We just set a new one there. The voice called back.

With that we continued onward. The Block is basically a city Block we'd converted into a fortress city. It was our home. Buildings joined together at the rooftops with makeshift bridges and zip lines. Escape vehicles were parked at different locations around the Block for a quick getaway. Worse case scenario we could take the boarded up metro. In the middle of the Block was a large park we had converted into a farm. It provided us with ample food over the summer. We had dug moats all around the park for last resort defences. The dirt was used to fill sandbags and the fences from the ball park were used to help complete the blockades we'd set up on some of the bigger streets. Unfortunetly, the weather was getting colder and we'd need to rely on the smaller green houses and our stored provisions for the long winter months.

 

The gate was now visible. Fences and sandbags were placed on either side of the wall forming a "V" shape with the wider part facing away from the Block. In case we were attacked, the entrance would be narrower and easier to defend. In-between them was a pick-up truck on which we mounted a large piece of wood that was composed of 2x4s that we had drilled together in layers and drilled onto the back of the truck. We added old metal traffic signs to the front of the wood and drove long nails through the whole thing from the back. Any attempt to bash on that baby would cost you some flesh after every hit. We also put a gap near the top of the rig. Also attached to the bed of truck besides the reinforcing rods was a stand on which we mounted a giant scissor like contraption we'd assembled using to saws. It was at head's length when facing it. The truck was placed back to the outside as well. It served as a moving gate door.

 

So this is a story that I update while on the bus and metro from my ipod. I hope you enjoy it and please leave your comments and feedback because it always helps. As for spelling errors, I’ll see to them later, lol.

...

Whoever came up with the saying "ignorance is bliss", left out the most important part. Ignorance is bliss to whoever made you ignorant. It just makes it easier to get people to do what you want them to. Control is bliss. That sounds better. That makes more sense. Control is what they did. The media that is... The initial start of the outbreak was reported as isolated cases. Local events. Of course now, we know it was all a lie, by trying to avoid panic they created it. If only they had informed everyone. Maybe... Maybe things would be different.

Maybe people would have been more cautious. It's to late now. Now, those who controlled are gone and anarchy is the new regime. Where there was money, there is only survival. Survive for what you may ask? Who knows? I'm just happy to be alive.

Even if it's life in a Zombie Apocalypse.

...

Preface


His hand trembled as he reached for the door. Desperately inching to grab hold of the handle, blood dripping down to the ground. Suddenly, he hears a terrifyingly recognizable scream, followed by slow moving, heavy footsteps, which seemed to be almost trailing, approaching closer to him. He couldn't be deterred, he crawled a bit closer to the door, his leg still bleeding. The Creeper peered around the corner. He could now see it, its eyes had sunken into its face and large dark circles under them were tainted in blood. The creeper's leg seemed to be broken; his trap had almost worked he thought.

Almost instantly after laying its eyes on Decker, did the creeper ferociously lunge at him. Any humanity was long gone from this damned creature. Decker quickly gave up reaching for the doorknob and grabbed his shovel which to be much closer.

...

Chapter 1 - Countdown


Three days before the outbreak

Back then, I hated my life. I didn't have a girlfriend, I had no real friends, and I lived in a crummy apartment... Sure I had gotten what I thought was my dream job, a journalist on the local news. However, after only a year, I had already been disillusioned by the firm, unforgiving pulls of reality. Every story to be aired was monitored and filtered. Every angle was manufactured to sensationalize. Priority was given to the unimportant. I felt overwhelmed, I felt cheap. I felt like a liar.


I remember thinking about my next story that day. I sat reading the paper; looking for a story I could follow-up on. Anything sad but not tragic, we can always make things tragic, anything scary like disease or war, anything about a celebrity, anything for the ratings. I remember looking at the paper that day, because it was filled with an astonishing amount of fatal crashes, accidents and rioting. One headline in particular stood out because it was a local event that occurred late last night. Two men dead. A driver dies when pedestrian jumped head-on, into his moving vehicle.

...

Present day

The creeper was just above him now, Decker trusted his shovel with what strength he had left and it found itself lodged inside the Creeper's head. Now to get into this room he thought. After resting a bit, listening to see if any other Creepers would show, Decker finally turns over and again attempts to reach the doorknob. Now appeased by the thought that he was finally safe, he took the time to crawl closer to the door, making sure he didn't drag his leg onto the blood on the floor. He hoisted himself to sit up against the door using the knob. Pain shot through him as he attempted to stand. The pain being so unbearable, he remained as he was and turned the knob and slowly opened the door as his free hand reached for the shovel. Just in case he thought.

As the door opened, it also allowed Decker to pull himself into the room as it inched open. Slowly pulling his body into the room with his one arm, he held the shovel on his lap with the other. He peeked around the open door to see if anyone, or anything was there. Nothing. Seeing that the room was empty, Decker pulled in his legs slowly, trying to minimize movement to his injured leg.

Suddenly a loud, sharp scream could be heard echoing from the floors below. Not waiting to see what had made the sound, Decker hurried his movement and quickly shut the door behind him.

...

Three days before the outbreak

Later that same day, I still couldn't come up with a story. Well, I had a story in mind but I didn't know what I could say about it. It was a clear-cut story and yet I still wanted to follow up on it.

A man is running down an empty street late at night. Suddenly, a car comes into view coming up an intersecting street. The man starts running faster. The driver doesn't see the man and never does. At the intersection where both streets meet, the running man leaps head first into the driver side window of the car. The window shatters; the man's head is busted open. The driver is surprised and blinded by the splattered blood in his eyes and windshield. He swerves and crashes into an electric pole. He survives the crash but dies from attempting to exit the vehicle. Fallen power cables on the street caused death by electrocution.

It was a perfect story. It was local, uncommon and sad. All I needed was an angle. Drunk driving? Freak accident? Successful run at suicide? Mental instability? Stressed related? I didn't know what to write. I had to investigate further. I had to get more facts.

...

Present day

Furtively, Decker looked around the room; he had to find a way out. He could see a small wooden table of simple design on his left that was probably used as a desk, in front of it, an old wooden chair with uneven legs. Against the wall in front of him, a tattered sofa with a small coffee table in the middle of the room in-front of it. There were no windows. Again, the high-pitched howl was heard, but this time it was much closer. The creature was in the hall. Decker looked up to the door. There wasn't a lock. This wasn't good, he thought to himself. Looking around again, he made his way to the sofa. As fast as his injured leg would allow him, Decker began to move the small sofa up against the door. Every inch and shove sent agony down his leg and up his entire body. Finally, having been pushing from the back of the sofa, he felt the resistance of the door behind him.

Almost instantly, the bangs on the door began. It must have heard all the commotion figured Decker. Knowing full well that his make shift blockade wouldn't last, Decker reached for his shovel and used the corner of the spade as a hook to pull the little table by his side. What's a little more noise now that it knows I'm here? He thought to himself. After a difficult start, Decker finally managed to bring the table closer. He then flipped it over to its side and began hacking at the old wooden legs with the shovel. After a couple good hits, the first leg came off. He then repeated the same procedure with the second leg. Once he had done that, he then undid his belt and took it off. Using the table legs and his belt, painfully, Decker braced his leg. He shouted as he tightened the belt around his leg sandwiched between the two pieces of wood. One problem solved, he thought comically. As he started to stand, he turned to see that the door was beginning to crack and splinter. I can never get a break, he smirked.

Barely able to stand and exhausted to the point where only his instinct for survival and the pain and pressure on his leg kept him awake, Decker prepared for the worse. Now facing the door he watched as the split in the centre of it widened. Waiting in excruciating agony for the right moment to act. He only had one chance. He hoped that the creature would peer its head through the opening once the gap was wide enough. Just that one moment for him to shove his shovel straight through the gap into its head.

It seemed like forever. Again, the creature wailed a high-pitched cry. Almost deafening now that it was just inches away. Then suddenly, the banging stopped. A million thoughts rushed through Decker's mind. Only one persisted. What happened? He asked himself over and over. Silence had settled in. An uncomfortable silence. The type you noticed and couldn't shake off. The kind that made the world seem as if it had frozen and left you alone with your thoughts.

Just as the silence became the new torment in Decker's mind, as abruptly as it had stopped, a loud "THUD" broke through the silence, followed by the cracking of wood. The door finally gave in and had even sent the sofa hurling at Decker, who stood only a foot or two from it. The impact and the surprise had knocked him backwards causing him to trip on the broken table behind him. As he fell he hit the back of his head on the edge of the coffee table. Silence and darkness were the last things to fill his mind.

...

Three days before the outbreak

I started digging in all the usual places. I called up the police station, the coroner, the morgue, and the family of the deceased... Of course I didn't expect to get much out of it, but you get use to it. After the fifth unanswered call to the recently dead running man, Joey DeFacto's residence. I decided to stop by the morgue to pay a little visit to an old friend of mine. Needless to say it wasn't my first trip to the big freezer.

Overtime, I'd made good friends with the some of the staff there. One of which happened to be the Useless doctor. His name was Bob, as common as a name could get. He was one of the doctors running the morgue. I call him the Useless doctor because the docs are of better use to the living. The security guard at the front, Tyrone, greeted me; he could have been a bouncer with his physic. Not that he was muscular. He was the other kind of big guy and had an intimidating appearance. Luckily, after so many repeated visits, he warmed up to me. Or so I liked to believe. He never looked up at me from behind his deck, reading his paper. I liked to imagine he had a grave look under his cap. I signed the registry and made my way to Bob's office. I knocked on the door and noticed that it was already partially open. Bob's familiar voice welcomed me, as if expecting my arrival.

- I'm told you called a few times. Bob said.

I didn't answer. He was always well informed. Nothing escaped his vigilance. I guess that's why he's one of the best in his line of work. He noticed what others didn't. Just as I finally mustered what to say in my mind, he began to stand and spoke.

- Very well then, I suppose you'd like to see the body.

He walked past me and exited the office. I followed, closing the door behind me. We went down the long, eerie corridor leading to the storage room I called the freezer. It was a cramped corridor with stretchers on both sides of it. Not all were empty.

We continued till we were at the end of the hall. Before we entered, Bob turned towards me.

- Now then, before we go in there, I have to warn you, its pretty gruesome and the smell... The god-awful smell... You haven't seen anything like it. As a matter of fact, neither have I. And I like to think I've seen it all.

At first I didn't think anything of his warning. It's just another body I figured. It's not the first I've seen. I thought Bob just wanted to give me the willies. I guess I forgot that Bob rarely made jokes. Not that his warning would have prepared me for what I was about to experience.

He opened the doors and we walked towards the row of lockers. Meat lockers in a sense. We finally stopped at a locker with an examining table right next to it. The moment Bob pulled it open; the most horrifying, nauseating smell began to emit and to rapidly fill the room. It was unlike anything I'd ever smelled in my life. It was horrible. My eyes began to tear, my hands shot to my mouth and nose as my gag reflex kicked in. I could taste it and felt the smell filling my lungs. I looked up at Bob, who, in my surprise, had pulled out a mask to cover his face. I would have said something but I was afraid of opening my mouth. Then, the body came out. I couldn't imagine what could possibly have emitted such a repugnant smell, but somehow I understood when I laid my eyes on the corpse. Its head was partially gone from the impact with the car. He was covered in bruises of all shapes. Infectious puss leaked from every pore in his body. His skin was peeling and it looked as if he was decomposing. His skin was a mix of green, blue, purple and brown. Finally I managed to speak.

- I thought you guys kept these bodies in cold storage to avoid this kind of thing. And don't you wash the bodies down? What's with all that fluid coming out of him?

As if expecting the question Bob was quick to explain.

- Believe it or not, we did wash it down. But the body just won't stop leaking. As for the look, that's how we got him, he already looked like he'd been decomposing for a couple days now.

Then, a noise coming from the hallway caught our attention.

…

Chapter 2 – Surprise


Present day

Cautiously, I began to push the now opened door. I wasn't sure what to expect so I opened it with the tip of my baseball bat. It gave a bit of resistance. When the opening was finally wide enough, I found out the cause of the resistance. It was a couch.

It seems that Decker had barricaded the door with it and with good reason. When we got on this floor, a Howler was bashing against the door. Luckily for us, Alan had the crossbow with him. The first shot hit it at the base of its abnormally long neck. We'd gotten its attention. It turned towards us, its jaw dropped freakishly low before letting out a loud howl. Quickly, Alan managed to reload and shot an arrow right through its mouth. We hurriedly rushed at it and I swung my bat as it tried to bite me, taking advantage of the reach its long neck provided.

It was the decisive blow. The Howler went down and just to make sure it wouldn't get up again I crushed its head under my heavy boot. When the door was wide enough for us to enter, I noticed a pool of blood on the floor. I called out quietly to see if Decker was ok. We got no answer.

I went in first; Alan covered me with the crossbow from the doorway. My eyes followed the pool of blood to Decker lying on the floor clutching onto his shovel. I quickly called Alan and went to inspect the body. I could see he tried to mend his broken leg. There was lot of blood and I couldn't tell if all of it was his. Alan came over and checked for a pulse. He couldn't find one. Decker was dead. We were too late, he bled out.

- Great... This is just great! I killed Decker. How the... I mean what do we...

I didn't know what to say. My emotions had gotten the best of me. It was frustrating. Alan tried to comfort me.

- We don't know that! Maybe be fell before we came in, his leg was broken. Maybe he tripped! If not us, maybe the howler would have busted the door open and killed him. We don't know!

I could tell that Alan was in the same state as me. He just tried to reason himself into believing it wasn't our doing. My doing. There was an awkward silence for a moment. We stood there, not knowing what to think even less what to say. I suppose that's why we were taken by surprise.

From the corner of my eye, I had barely gotten a glance at the approaching shadow before I found my self on the ground wrestling, trying to keep zombie Decker's salivating mug away from me. I pressed my bat against his throat, barely keeping him inches from my face. I screamed repeatedly at Alan.

- Get him off me! Get him off!

Alan was still under the shock, when he finally regained some sense he raised his crossbow and prepared to fire.

- Stop moving! I can't get a clear shot! He replied.

- Don't shoot! Get him off! Just get him off! I cried back.

The last thing I wanted was Alan to miss and shoot me instead. Not that Alan was a terrible shot. He just wasn't an ace either. To be honest, I was more worried about the blood that would gush out of Decker's brain right onto my face. Alan finally positioned himself behind Decker and pulled him off me. I immediately swung my bat at Decker's broken leg. The wood shattered and he fell to the floor. I quickly got up on my feet ready to follow through but Alan had already pulled the trigger. An arrow lodged itself right in-between his eyes.

After a while we just stood there. We weren't really sure what to do next. Everything's happened so fast that we've only been able to react so far. Now that we have some time to think nothing came to mind. What was there to think about? I guess Alan took less time than me to get a grip of reality.

- What do we do with the body? He asked. I turned my head to Alan, as if unsure of what he meant although I knew clear as day what he meant. I turned my attention to Decker's motionless body.

- We do like the others. We burn it. Grab the couch cushions and the busted table. I'll carry Decker. I finally said to Alan.

I'd never felt like I did in that moment. The hall seemed to go on for miles and when we finally reached the stairs, it felt like we were descending an endless spiral to hell. We were quiet the whole way. Half of it was because we didn't know what to say and half of it were because you could never be too sure whether or not another one of those things were around. When we got outside, the streets were deserted and the sky was grey. Alan laid the table upside down on the ground. He then placed the cushions side by side on top. He then proceeded to walk over to a trashcan and picked up some scraps of paper. He rolled them up and pulled out his lighter and lit the makeshift torch.

I laid Decker's body on the cushions and then removed his knee and elbow pads. I then took a step back.

- Care to say a few words? Alan finally asked.

- No. I don't think there's anything to say. I replied.

And with that, Alan placed the torch between the two cushions and soon a blaze started under Decker. It would have been a moving moment, yet we couldn't stick around to bask in it. We were losing sunlight and we had to head home. At least, the closest thing we could call home in this dark world.


...

Three days before the outbreak

Tyrone appeared at the entrance of the freezer. He was much more imposing when he was standing. The paramedics standing beside him were almost dwarfed in comparison.

- Hey Doc, the paramedics are here with the other body. Tyrone said to Bob.

Bob pulled down his mask and gestured to the paramedic to come in as he spoke to Tyrone.

- Thank you Tyrone. Let me know when the detectives are to arrive.

With that, Tyrone nodded in acknowledgment and turned around before disappearing into the hallway. I shifted my attention to the body bag being transferred from the stretcher onto an adjacent examination table. One of the men took a clipboard from the stretcher and handed it to Bob who quickly signed it and returned it.

I guess the medics didn't like the smell either, seeing as they never said a word and by quickly they headed for the exit. However, before they could reach the door, Bob stopped them and asked.

- Why didn't you unzip the bag to confirm you brought the right body?

The two men looked at each other. The tallest was the one to answer.

- Umm... Well you see... It already smelled so horrible in here that we didn't want to make matters worse.

The two medics then continued off into the hallway like Tyrone before them. I remembered asking myself how they could possibly have made the smell any worse than it already was. Any other smell would have simply been overpowered by the odor the body was emitting. I turned my attention again to Bob who'd already put his mask back up.

- Who's in the other bag? I asked.

Bob gestured to a cabinet behind me. I turned and walked over to open it. Inside, I saw a box of heavy-duty masks. I smirked as I put one on and walked back towards Bob.

The smell wasn't as strong and that slight difference was enough to appease my nostrils. The sensation was short lived. Almost regretting having asked, Bob unzipped the body bag and the vile, putrid odor once again overwhelmed my sense of smell. It was worse this time. My eyes began to water. I couldn't even taste the puke that came up to my mouth. I turned away from the source of the smell. I couldn't even begin to phantom how much worse it could have been without my mask.

Curiosity finally got the better of me as I turned to face the body. I took a step back purely for its psychological effect. I was relieved to see Bob do the same. I looked down at the body. Its skin was pale blue and it seemed to be cracking despite the clear liquid it seemed to be secreting. I was astonished as to how the skin condition resembled that of the previous body.

- It seems like they were keeping this one in cold storage as well. I guess it was in an attempt to minimize the smell. Bob finally commented.

- Minimize the smell?! I can barely stand to stay in this room as is! I snapped back.

- Well consider yourself lucky then. Both the bodies were in cold storage to conserve the bodies and as a bonus, reduce the smell. In any case this fellow here is the driver of the car that Joey over there ran into. Bob said as he motioned at the other body.

- How come they just brought this one in now? I asked.

- Because he still showed some sign of life when they found him. Bob pointed out.

- What do you mean? I thought he died electrocuted trying to get out of his car. How could he have survived that? I asked.

Just then, a voice originating from the door made itself heard.

- That's what we'd like to know and what you won't be hearing tonight. Said the man standing at the door.

...

Present day

It was getting dark sooner than I had anticipated. I guess we were losing sunlight sooner seeing as it was now mid-autumn. I was starting to think if it would be better to camp for the night. There was still quite a distance to travel before we would reach the outskirts of the Block. The trouble was that there weren't many places we could easily secure with just me, Alan and Sam. Sam had been waiting for us at the campsite to watch the gear when we went looking for Decker. We were lucky to have her. She was one of the few survivors that can actually be useful during a recon mission.

Alan was the one leading the way with Sam in the middle and me making up the rear. We walked straight down the middle of the street. It’s always safer than walking close to the buildings. More time to react if one or more of those things were to jump out of the shadows.

Alan stopped abruptly and motioned at about 6 crawlers not so far away. Sam and I hurriedly joined Alan. I could see them more clearly now. There were 7 of them. They were tearing away at the carcass of an unfortunate victim of fate. Unluckily for us, there was no way around. The damn things somehow found themselves in the middle of an intersection. We only had one option. We had to face them.

They didn't seem to be aware of our presence so we decided to prepare for the confrontation. Alan kept an eye on them while me and Sam geared up.

I unhooked the hockey gloves hanging from my belt. I had modified them with a clip at the end for that sole purpose. Living in Montreal hockey gloves were common items that ensured great safety. They were made to protect your hands from wayward pucks and unpleasant sticking while still giving the wearer the ability to handle a hockey stick. Of course now they were used to guard my hands from bites and scratches and to wield my baseball bat.

Sam did the same except she used them to wield two butcher knives. I guess she liked them since any other weapon would be heavy to use and she didn’t have the striking power to get one hit kills with a bat. The gloves made up for the short range since it kept her hands safe even if bitten.

Our hands are essential tools in this apocalyptic world. They are the basis of any weapon we use so we pay close attention to them. But just as important was our face. Blood splatter is a serious issue. I put my scarf up to cover my mouth and nose. Sam and Alan did the same. Even though it was pretty dark I put on my aviators. Only Sam did the same since Alan had to see where he was shooting.

Once finished we left our backpacks on the ground and the three of us began a slow and weary approach towards the crawlers. Alan only had a few arrows left so he brought Decker's shovel with him. We got as close as we felt safe. We got down on the street lying on our bellies and crawled a little closer to try and improve Alan's range. They couldn't be more than 30 feet away. Alan lined up his crossbow. The first shot hit a crawler in the shoulder. They were aware of us now. They turned towards us. Alan began to reload as Sam and I got up waiting for them.

The crawlers were now running at us. One of them goes down as an arrow went right through his nose. Only six left I thought. They were getting very close now. Maybe 14 or 15 feet from us closing in fast. Alan's last arrow stuck into a creepers leg. He put down the crossbow and picked up Decker's shovel.

I began running at the creepers. Alan and Sam followed. The distance was closing fast. Time began to slow down. Seven feet away, I tightened my grip around my bat. Five feet away, I could now see the ugly features on the decaying blood soaked faces they wore. Four feet, my heart is racing as adrenaline rushes through my veins. Two feet away, I begin swinging my bat. Then, impact.

At that very moment, everything halted to a complete stop. I stopped breathing, I stopped thinking. My heart stopped racing. I'm not sure why, but the one thing that filled my mind at that moment was a song. A song I never fully grasped until that very moment. "There nothing to lose, when no one knows your name". Everything began to move again. My heart was racing, I was breathing but my mind was like a radio. Playing a song for that very moment in life...

My bat came crashing down on the first creeper. The sneaky bastards dodged and I just missed his head crushing his shoulder instead. Smart creeper... As I drew my bat up again, the damned thing took a shot at my hand, trying to bite me. It got a mouthful of air. "There’s nothing to gain, cuz the days don't seem to change" the lyrics rocked around my head. Just then, I barely jumped out to my left to avoid another creeper coming from behind me. I would have been done for if Sam hadn't called out. I got back on my feet and as I regained my balance, I looked to see the first creeper was already running at me. This time I brought my bat upwards and laid a hit right at the creeper's chin. Its head was knocked back and before it could come back down again, I swung my bat across its face and the creeper hit the ground deader than it already was.

There wasn't anytime to think or to feel. I could only react. React and follow the tune of Billy Talent as it played in my head. Nothing to lose, the song that was just a wandering thought but became my reason for that brief moment in time. "Never played truth or dare, I'd have to check my mirror to see if I’m still here". I just stood there. My bat lowered. I stared at the second creeper that had just missed taking my life seconds ago. It was coming straight at me. I let my bat fall to ground. The creeper lunged at me. I grabbed it by the collar and threw it to the ground. "There's nothing to lose, when no one knows your name". I swiftly jumped on top of the creeper keeping it pinned under my weight. "There's nothing to gain, but the days don't seem to change". Any reason in me was gone. I began to hum to the music as I landed blow after blow onto the creepers face. Blood splattered everywhere. I could barely see thought my blood-tainted aviators. I could feel the creepers face beginning to dissolve into mush under the constant barrage of my protected fists.

It was blissful yet revolting. It was as thrilling as it must have seemed terrifying to Alan and Sam. That's if they were even still alive. It was the very idea of madness. The embodiment of the word in every sense. My eyes began to water yet I smirked. It was reason trying to break through insanity. It was my feelings trying to break free. It was what a man had become. It was what I had become. It wasn't me. It couldn't be.

I heard Sam calling out to me. Alan tapped me on the shoulder. Reality came rushing in.

I rose up slowly. Blood and pieces of flesh dripped off my gloves. I just stood there. The author of the bloody mess at my feet. I turned towards the bags and glimpsed at the other four zombies Alan and Sam had disposed of. I still made the biggest mess. I began to walk towards our waiting packs. I removed my aviators first, pulling out paper from my coat pocket to wipe them with. I tossed the paper and pulled down my scarf.

- Let's keep moving. I mumbled under my breath.

I couldn't let them see me like this. I placed my aviators into its case and put it back in my pocket. I guess Alan and Sam understood. They followed and we continued our walk back to the Block.

Chapter 3 - The Block

We walked for another hour before we reached the outskirts of the Block. No one really said anything. There wasn't really anything to be said. I guess the tension that came with the silence was too much for Alan and Sam. The occasional "I can't wait to just lay in bed." and "Man I wish we'd get there already." broke the silence. We walked into the block and didn't go very far before a familiar voice called out.

- Don't go crossing a lake when you can't swim. The voice called out.

- We'll just walk over the heads of crocs. Sam screamed back.

- Watch out on Cote-St-Catherine Street. We just set a new one there. The voice called back.

With that we continued onward. The Block is basically a city Block we'd converted into a fortress city. It was our home. Buildings joined together at the rooftops with makeshift bridges and zip lines. Escape vehicles were parked at different locations around the Block for a quick getaway. Worse case scenario we could take the boarded up metro. In the middle of the Block was a large park we had converted into a farm. It provided us with ample food over the summer. We had dug moats all around the park for last resort defenses. The dirt was used to fill sandbags and the fences from the ballpark were used to help complete the blockades we'd set up on some of the bigger streets. Unfortunately, the weather was getting colder and we'd need to rely on the smaller green houses and our stored provisions for the long winter months.

The gate was now visible. Fences and sandbags were placed on either side of the wall forming a "V" shape with the wider part facing away from the Block. In case we were attacked, the entrance would be narrower and easier to defend. In-between them was a pick-up truck on which we mounted a large piece of wood that was composed of 2x4s that we had drilled together in layers and drilled onto the back of the truck. We added old metal traffic signs to the front of the wood and drove long nails through the whole thing from the back. Any attempt to bash on that baby would cost you some flesh after every hit. We also put a gap near the top of the rig. Also attached to the bed of truck besides the reinforcing rods was a stand on which we mounted a giant scissor like contraption we'd assembled using to saws. It was at head's length when facing it. The truck was placed back to the outside as well. It served as a moving gate door.

A familiar face was sitting on the roof the truck’s cab. George was a military man that served tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. On his last tour of duty, he lost his left leg from the knee down. I guess he felt the need to do the most boring jobs to make up for his handicap. He was a proud man and took the safety of the camp, more specifically that of his son and daughter very importantly. The Gatekeeper was thought to be a fitting nickname. We waved as he greeted us with his familiar grin.

- Welcome back ya’ll! How’d the mission? He asked.
As we got closer his grin began to fade. I could see the worry that began to set in when we didn’t answer back. What was there for us to say?

- There’s only the three of ya? Where’s Decker? George ventured.

When we finally got up close to the back of the truck, he got his answer. He could now see our blood stained clothes and the extra pads and backpack we were carrying. I saw his eyes shift as they followed the objects we were carrying until they laid upon the shovel Alan now clinched in his left hand.

- I see… I’m sorry. And with that, he tapped on the roof of the cabin and it began to roll forward. It stopped about a meter away from us. We walked through the gate with our heads down and our hearts heavy.

We were home. But we lost family getting home.