The sound of my gunshot resonates throughout the old decrepit warehouse. I had just shot a man in cold blood, he was bitten, and when you're bit a bullet to the head is the best thing you can ask for. But it also asks for attention, the infected must have heard it.
It's been twenty odd years since the Cordyceps disease spread and for a while it was hell on earth; a lot of people lost a lot of things and not just to the infected. There are some cold hearted son of a bitches who now walk these streets, well there always was, but now they have a good enough excuse to just kill people at random; they might have food and supplies. But what canI say about being cold hearted? I just shot a man in the face who I had known for all of ten minutes. There was once a time when I had never seen a gun, let alone held one. I was too busy writing a screen play in-between playing Halo or Call of Duty. Now look how far I have come, once a writer who lived through his characters I now count myself as a true survivor.
Hastily searching through his corpse for anything useful I come away with two shotgun shells and switchblade. I also notice his driving licence; it brings a smile to my face. I still have mine tucked away in my back pocket, it reads Mr Alexander Tobias Jackson born July 11th 1987. I held onto it thinking I may need it to get into some of the quarantine zones spread across the country but now I just keep it as a reminder of who I was. I place his licence on his chest as a sign of respect; people should know who this corpse was.
After I sling my bag over my shoulders I count the bullets left in my revolver; four remain. I need to pick my shots more carefully from now on. Needing to escape this cold and soon to be smelling like a shithole warehouse. I look for an exit, a door in the distance that reads "EXIT" looks promising. Once at the door I begin to rattle the handle with no such luck, of course it was going to be locked. Well so long to having four bullets. I fire a shot into the lock just like in the movies hoping the door will swing open. It does.
Its freezing outside and light snow falls from the sky, it's beautiful, just wish I had time to appreciate it. Running down a nameless street I turn off on one of the corners to be greeted by the flat end of a shovel travelling towards my face. A sharp pain then everything goes pitch-black.