1
Alek
He could hear them.
Always.
Without fail.
Consistently through the day and the dreaded night.
It never stopped. The noise never stopped.
The moaning was in his brain, if they did stop it wouldn't in his head.
He hated this new world. This twisted, deformed place that was their home once, their planet, their safe haven. But no longer. The undead had it under their control. Eating people without hesitation. Never wavering or stopping, not like us.
We humans feel things, those monsters feel nothing but hunger. No fear. No love. No nothing. Just hunger.
It why they beat us. Why when we outnumbered them, they just killed us. When the tried to stop them peacefully using gas and riot shields, the undead just killed them. When the military came to kill them, oh they came close, until they too were overwhelmed and killed. Our feelings got us killed. Our mercy. Our weakness killed us.
Now god knows who is left.
Alek rubbed his temples. His head throbbed from the consistency of the moaning and groaning of the undead outside in the street, the darkening sun, and the thought of being in this situation.
It made his heart beat rapidly. Far too fast.
He took a soothing breath, "Relax Alek. Breath."
After a few minutes of the calming breathing, his heart slowed to its normal rate and his headache subsided.
He then scanned the destroyed remains of the grocery store he was in, there was a few waters on the shelf in asile 3, food thrown about, corpses everywhere, blood all across… well fucking everything. And yes the smell of rotting flesh never went away.
He grabbed around 8 waters, and some bags of chips, beef jerky, a few cans of beans, put them in his backpack, and head back to the doorway he came in.
There wasn't alot of undead outside the grocery store. Around 5-7.
He drew his sword, a family hierloom from ancient greece. A Grecian Kopis, which he duly named Defiance. He normally tried to stay away from guns as they didnt do much other than make alot of noise, and attract everything from a miles radius. Probably more since it was normally quiet except for the moaning. God the damn moaning.
Alek calmly appraoched the first dead person, a woman, decaying body, smelled like the usual shit, missing patches of skin. All in all fucking gross and a typical undead walker. She moaned louder and limped towards him faster. He kept his blade low, waiting until she got within his swords range and implanted it into her skull in a downward slice.
With a sploosh, she jerked and fell as he removed his sword from her now offically dead body.
He repeated the simple process to the remain undead before getting on his motorcycle and heading back south, where his home was.
Riding a motorscycle was dangerous. It was overwhelmingly loud mainly, attracted attention in the cities where undead and survivors alike lived, but despite all of that, there was debris and corpses everywhere, so hitting one little thing and the bike was done for.
He rode a simple 30 minutes back to his safe haven, a temporary place where he slept until he grew bored and moved again.
As he arrived to his home, a isolated 3 story house, surrounded by a few trees but was in the middle of nowhere, an hour from Saint Paul, Minnesota. He had left from Seattle, Washington 2 years ago with a large group of people determined to get to New York City, the only safe City in the United States. Surprising it was, but when the airborne disease began killing people in the west coast and raising them to be undead, the East coast began to try fortify and relief the West. However, they failed miserably as the disease spread to the south and closed in on the north. He remembered his father, a successful entrepenuer in NYC, had came to take him back to NYC when he first heard of the disease in the west. He died when he got ot seattle.
Alek was 17 at the time.
Alek and everyone else who he ran into was fleeing to New England, the supposed only safe place in the US.
He pulled into the dirt road that led to the isolated house he resided in. Parking his bike, he saw other cars in the drive, some of his friends had already returned from their scavenging assigments.
He walked to the front door and opened it, eager to see familiar faces.