Apocalyptic

I sighed and turned off my television. The soaps were getting boring, and I wouldn’t go back to watching kid’s TV. I was fifteen now; a grown up. The warm summer breeze drifted through my window. Despite the dark, it was still too hot. 25 degrees centigrade, refusing to fall. A brief smell of rotting meat drifted through the window. I sniffed disdainfully, and wondered if it was the neighbour’s cats latest kill. Ew. There it was again. I groaned, and got up to investigate. Padding over to the window, I stared out at the street. I peered around the corner.

“AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!” I screamed. Not very dignified for a boy. Especially a grown-up. Grown-up-ish. A rotting face pressed itself to the window. It might have once been human, but now it was hideously disfigured. A section of the skull had caved in, and slimy, greyish brains were exposed to the flies. It was missing its nose, and was covered in scratched scabs. Even as I stared, an eyeball popped out, bulging and bouncing their. I screeched and stumbled back- just in time too, as the rotting fist spiderwebbed the glass. I heard a banging on the door. I darted over and locked it tight. Why the hell are there zombies trying to bust into my house?

I ran back to the sitting room, and turned on the news as I started packing. “It appears that there has been a new virus spreading, reincarnating corpses and, essentially, turning them into the fabled ‘zombie’. Be warned, if their saliva enters your bloodstream, you will become a infected, and change within the next 48 hours. No cure has been found. Symptoms of infection are: uncontrollable vomiting, violent urges, and a fascination with brains.” The news floated in to the kitchen as I pushed the vegetable knives into the bottom of my bag, scooped a bunch of tins and cans from the shelf, and bolted upstairs for clothes and first aid supplies. I’ve been living on my own for three months now, after an argument with my guardian (my parents died when I was 5). I had moved into my childhood home, as it was legally mine (in three years, anyway).

I heard the door caving in, and I pulled another knife from my sock drawer, as well as a lock pick. Moaning came from the doorway, and I ducked back into the closet. A zombie appeared in my line of sight, a different one from earlier, and I charged out of the wardrobe, and, catching it unawares, I stabbed viciously at the brain with my knife. It grabbed at me even as it collapsed, fluids spurting, and I had to pull a rancid hand off me. I gagged as it separated from the wrist and dangled in my grasp. Dropping it, I ran to the window, and clambered out onto the fire escape. It was a long way down, a long way to fall, but I ran down the stairs at breakneck speed. I jumped the last floor, and landed on the bins, and rolled off. New York City, baby! I ran to the road, and smashed the glass of a car window.

When I was fourteen, I would go stealing cars with my friends for fun. Smash the window, tear out the alarm and drive off. We had quite a lot of practise, but now it was going to push me and my skills to the limit. I pushed hard on the accelerator, and swerved onto the main road. I switched gears, and took the left lane. I knew it would lead me to the countryside. I would be better at surviving there. I braked suddenly, and accidentally flattened a bunch of zombies. I drove off immediately, and didn’t stop driving the whole night long.

-Three years later-

A battle hardened youth stands on the cliff. His muscles are large and tense, and a tattoo across his neck. He wears real leather, and tall boots. Slung over one shoulder is his backpack, with all the equipment for engaging in battle he needs. Yep. That’s me. A new person, tough as nails, and ruthless as fire. I bet, in a show of strength, I could beat most. I have become famous, a zombie Hunter. Or just a Hunter. People know me well, I am renowned in waste-scape New York as being the best around. In fact, I am probably known throughout the whole North America. I can fight, and I fight with knives. Sometimes fire, but mostly my knives. I collect them, and each of my bases have at least 50. I turned, and looked back at the city. Movement caught my eye. Odd, normally there wouldn’t be any action until a few hours later. I squinted against the sun. Zombies? No, they weren’t infected. I decided to see who these people were.

Skidding down the hill, I prowled across, like a tiger. They were huddled in a group, and they looked vaguely familiar. Two girls, and three boys. They seemed to be arguing, and I saw a fourth boy backed against the wall. “I’m telling you, we need to use him tonight! He’s the fastest runner, so he is most likely to survive!” Yelled one of the girls.

“She’s right, Jaguar!” agreed the second. One of the boys, I assumed he was Jaguar, spoke, “NO! I am the strongest fighter, Panther! I will survive! Cougar, you agree, right?” The other boy nodded, and the second girl looked exasperated. “You never listen to me or Tiger!” While they bickered, I noticed the boy backed into the wall shift sightly, so he had a gun in his hand. “Leopard, what do you think?!” asked Jaguar, then, “What the…?” Four gunshots ricocheted off the buildings, echoing eerily around the street. Leopard looked out, and grinned. “You can come out now.” I considered my options, and decided for the peaceful option. I strolled out, hands in pockets. “Nice shooting, mate.” he looked at me funnily, and allowed me to walk over. He hesitated, and holstered his gun. “They were all infected. I wasn’t.” Curious. They did seem about to start fighting, a symptom of the infection. “We need to team up tonight. There’s gonna be another wave of zombies tonight, so we’d better prepare.”

I nodded. “I know a place we can go.” We walked over to my nearest base, an abandoned army bunker, and the sun began to sink into the horizon. Orange and yellow dissipated into the sky. Clambering in, I shut the door behind us. “You sure like knives.” commented Leopard.

“I’ve got 90 in this base. Others have more, others have less.” I shrugged.

“You throw or stab with them?”

“Throw the kitchen knives, I stab with the proper knives.”

“Cool.”

A year passed, and our friendship grew and grew. We were in our base one night, and we were celebrating the wipeout of a small band of zombies one the corner. Tonight, there was to be another wave. We’d ride it out like all those times before, in the comfort of our temporary home. And then came the pounding. BANG! BANG! BANG! I knew what it was. Leopard knew what it was. BANG! BANG! BANG!

“To the death?” asked Leopard. BANG! BANG! BANG! I nodded grimly, and gritted my teeth. “To the death.” BANG! BANG! BANG!BANG! BANG! BANG!BANG! BANG! BANG! CRUNCH! The door caved in, and I leapt back. A small square of sky was revealed. There was a single, pure moment of silence. Then it blew apart. Zombies tumbled in, and I threw my knives, three at a time. Two found their mark, one quivered in the wall. Two down. God knows how many to go. Leopard threw a table, taking out five, and then five behind them. More knives flew, spearing the zombies. We shuffled back, as more piled in. Moaning filled the air. A chair came flying through the air. We ducked, and tumbled into the mass of zombies. Slashing, stabbing, gouging and tearing like there was no tomorrow, we fought our way through the horde.

Dawn broke over the hills, and we dragged ourselves out of the mess. I had internal bleeding, and Leopard was missing the vision in one eye, and a slash in his side. I coughed, and watched blood fly out of my mouth. I was going to die. Once I had admitted it, I felt a strange sense of calm. More blood flew. Leopard crawled over, and pulled my head into his lap. He stroked my hair, and I coughed again. “You can’t die now!” He pleaded, tears in his eyes, “we’re family! And… I love you.” I touched his arm, and said, “I love you too.” And then the white lights claimed me.