How long had they been out there? Young Benjamin Orosco was not sure, for time was now simply an illusion. He was stuck in a terrible nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. He wanted to pinch himself and wake up in his comfortable bed in his cozy apartment, the spring sun shining through his window, casting warm light all over his waking form. But instead, he was stuck. Trapped inside a cramped supply room in the basement of his apartment building. Trapped by those things. He was slumped back against the cold brick wall as he watched the thin metal door infront of him begin to buckle from the creature's rotten fists. The match he held infront of his face was his only source of light, lighting up his badly bruised and filthy face.
He had woken up that morning to find those creatures slumping around his building's front lobby. He had been on his way to work, ready to begin an ordinary day. At first, he thought there had been a murder or something. A group of people were slumped over a young woman (who he later identified as the receptionist) and there was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the walls, even some on the ceiling. The room stank of blood and death. He was a tad dense at the moment, for he hadn't slept well the night before - there had been many loud noises and sirens throughout the night. Because he was feeling so dim from fatigue, he rushed up to the group and asked what was happening.
As soon as he had opened his mouth, the mob looked towards him and Ben soon learned what was happening. But he didn't believe it at first. Those people... were not helping the woman, they were eating her! He remembered how he had almost thrown up at the sight - the woman's stomach and chest had been ripped open, her organs scattered all about and partially devoured. Devoured. The thought of being eaten alive by those things sent shivers down his spine. He had stumbled backwards as the creatures, whom he now realized resembled rotten corpses, turned their attention from their victim to him. His heart leaped when he accidentally knocked over a small metal trashcan, which really got the creatures excited. They looked like zombies from the old horror movies - rotten forms shuffling slowly. He could easily outrun them, he knew, but his legs suddenly felt like they were going to give out. All he could do was back away slowly, too scared to turn and run.
Imagine the look on his face when they began to run after him.
Somehow, he had ended up here, locked inside the downstairs supply room, about to be eaten by those things. At any moment, they would bust the door down and end his life. He didn't even have a weapon that he could take his own life with - because anything would be better than being devoured alive by those things. He had checked the sturdy metal shelves around him - they were filled with useless things. Cleaning supplies, cans of food, et cetera. Though, there was a mop stuck in a plastic bucket next to the door. It didn't seem sturdy enough to use as a weapon.
What was he thinking? Like he had the courage to even fight them. He almost screamed when the door began to give away. It would only be a matter of time now. He was ready to give up. But then he suddenly realized that he didn't want to die. Standing up and taking a look around, he desperately tried to think of some way he could get out of this tight situation. Despite thinking about this a million times, he went over the situation once more in his head, There are zombies outside. At least five - that's how many chased me down from upstairs. The door is about to cave in. There are no exits aside from said door. The only other links to the outside are, the door, a small inch-wide pipe above me, and a small window that's much too small for me to fit through. And even if I could get through the window, there could be more of them outside. He looked up towards the nearby window, which was just a little bit from the top of his head. It had been painted black for some unknown reason, and he couldn't see anything outside, but he supposed that it lead to the alley beside the building.
He would have to try it.
Slowly, he reached out and unlocked the window. He gasped when a rotten fist suddenly punched through the window, and a head lowered to look in at him. When those milky white eyes fell on Ben, he almost screamed. The head disappeared and the arm reached for him as the banging on the door became louder and more frantic. Unable to take this anymore, Ben took the mop from the yellow bucket next to the door and broke it over his leg. The splintered end was now nice and sharp. When the zombie trying to reach him through the window showed his face again, Ben pushed the sharp end of the broken mop right through his eye, not stopping until he was sure it reached the brain. The zombie moved no more.
Suddenly, the door next to him gave away and flew open. Three zombies from before pushed their way into the room. Pulling his weapon from the dead creature's head, Ben quickly turned to them and forced them back with strength he didn't even know he had. They fell to the floor, unbalanced and disoriented. This was his chance to escape! With his spear in hand, he rushed out the door and ran down the thin hallway back up to the lobby. Turning the corner that lead to the stairs, he ran right into a tall male zombie, who moaned and tried to take hold of him.
Ben quickly drove his spear through the zombie's stomach. He had made his first mistake. The attack did not kill the creature. Instead, it swayed forward and moaned slightly. The spear was now stuck. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't retrieve it from the creature. If he couldn't kill it, he couldn't get by. This creature was wide, and took up most of the thin hallway. The boy's suddeny boost of strength and energy was suddenly gone as he realized - it was over.
Suddenly, shots were fired. In front of him, the zombie's head seemed to explode, blood shooting up from the bloody hole where the creature's head used to be and landing on Ben. He felt like he was going to be sick, as the creature fell forward and landed on the teen. He pushed it off and it fell to the ground. At the top of the stairs was the owner of the aparment building.
Dressed in a fine black (but blood soaked) suit, the owner of the apart building pointed his heavy magnum towards Ben. He was a small, plump man with a brown goatee and a bald his head. His hands, stained with liver spots, were shaking and his green eyes were wide and full of terror.
"You. Stay back, or I'll shoot."