The smell of rotting flesh filled my nostrils as I entered the dark hallway of the apartment building. There were bodies piled everywhere in the hall. Most of them half eaten and many that had began decomposing weeks ago, bone was exposed on some of them where claws and teeth had ripped away their flesh.
I ventured farther down the hall, more bodies and no sound. This was no big surprise, after all only days before I had watched my entire family turn ,nobody I was close too had lasted longer than a week.
Though I had thought for a moment that maybe the sign on the apartment building's wall "Safe house ahead" would have had some value and at least some survivors left. At this point I would have even settled for a wounded survivor just to escape the loneliness.
At the end of the hall was a large red door, it was barred and had several locks and chains on it. There were others like this, safe rooms they called them. Though their safety was never truly assured. Many a time on my attempts to find survivors I had come across these , and they had only served to be false hope for my optimistic imagination.
Stepping closer to the door holding my shotgun tight( as you never really be sure of what you will find behind them) I peered through the bars. There, much to my amazement in the middle of the room sat a child of maybe 14. He was holding a hunting rifle and facing towards the barred exit door. As I drew nearer to the door I could hear him mumbling something... something in a very horse voice.
"Toronto...Toronto,...Toronto"
The boy suddenly stood up and faced me with his gun shouldered in seconds as if it was routine.
"Who the fuck are you!" he screamed in his horse choking voice.
Taken aback by the boy actions and worried the fist survivor I met would be insane, I stumbled with my words before finally stuttering out "Dm...itry.. Dimitry I'm Dimitry"
The boy lowered his rifle slowly until it was facing the ground as he said "So, you can talk, you couldn't be infected and better yet if you lasted this long you ain't weak" his eyes lit up much like mine had when I saw him, happy just to see someone else who had survived.
Even with that said he raised his rifle as he began to undo some of the locks. The door swung open and began to take a step in when the boy exclaimed at me.
"Hey, just because you ain't an infected doesn't mean your a trustworthy person, I'll be taking your gun"
I stood there for a moment pondering if handing over my gun was a wise choice, but then with the realization that a kid is a lot easier to deal with than a bunch of hungry zombies. I handed him my gun and stepped inside.
The safe room was small, it had a chipped and blood stained concrete floor and a peeling plaster ceiling. The walls were painted with a dark shade of yellow, now playing host to the numerous works of graffiti that were carved on to it. Across the floor were books , pamphlets and other reading material. There was a shelf on one side, upon it lay-ed first aid kits and pipe-bombs. On the other side of the room lay-ed an assortment of ammunition and gun maintenance tools.
I turned to the boy slowly as he placed my shotgun on the metal shelf. "whats your name?" I asked him.
He turned back at me and chuckled "me... I'm Alek"