Warning- kinda heavy stuff coming. If you're sensitive, please, it is rated M for a reason.
'It started a year ago when scientists found new fungi near the equator. Turns out it was great at killing cancer cells. It was a worldwide phenomenon, people were finally being cured, families reunited. But it had a side effect, a bacterial plague which caused the patients to lose their sanity and convert back to their basic human instincts; kill, eat, survive. Humans worst enemy turned out to be themselves, even a sneeze from these "zombies" could mean the disease spreads to you. The population has dropped to less than 4 million and is getting smaller every day this hell goes on.'
"Mark please," Ethan begged, muffled by his surgical mask, "Stop writing, we need to focus."
"Yeah, you're right," Mark said, he quickly closed his journal and shoved it in his backpack.
"I think Tyler said we didn't loot these houses yet, come on."
They hopped on their bikes and rode down the neighbourhood with the wind tingling the sweat on his scalp. Even though the world turned to shit, he almost felt normal. Almost.
Ethan pulled into the driveway of a cookie-cutter suburban home. At first, Mark had felt bad about breaking into people's houses, but now it was the only way to survive.
"Okay, I'll break the window, and jump in. I'll yell at you when it's clear." Mark said.
Ethan nodded. The Korean knew the younger wasn't fond of killing zombies, he couldn't really judge him though. It was a lot easier in the video games they had played. What an easier time that was.
Mark swung his baseball bat, shattering the glass. With the help of Ethan, he climbed inside.
The house was dark, the blinds pulled shut. It also smelled terrible, like sulphur, or rotting eggs. He crept around the bottom floor, his baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire ready to swing. He hated the silence.
Mark heard something in the kitchen. The zombie had no time to turn around before getting slammed on the side of the head and slumping to the ground
"Shit," Mark muttered, its blood swelling around his combat boots.
He turned and walked upstairs. He checked all the rooms for walkers, empty, except for one. A small boy, around 8 or 9 was milling around. Pus was leaking out of his eyes, his skin rotting, and his bones prominent. When he saw Mark, he grunted and walked towards him, his jaw unhinged, ready to eat. The most unsettling thing was his Tiny Box Tim plushie on the bed. Never had he stopped to consider that he would be killing his own fans.
He had remembered something Amy had said to him after Kathryn died. 'They don't give remorse, so why should you?'
He swung, and the boy dropped dead.
"All clear!" He shouted jogging down the steps.
"Okay! Coming in!" Ethan replied. A few grunts and small cuts of glass later, the boy was standing in front of him. "Ugh, what smells so bad."
"I don't know, but I'll take the downstairs, you take upstairs. Look for tampons and pads, Amy needs more." Mark told him.
"Umm, okay," Ethan said with a small blush.
"Oh my god Ethan, you need practice for when you get your own girlfriend."
"Shut up Mark!" he teased with a playful shove.
Mark went back to the kitchen, stepping over the dead corpse, giving it another hit just to be sure. They died pretty easy, just a really hard knock to the brain.
He shoved water, cans, medicine and some alcohol in his bag, he couldn't drink, but the others would appreciate it. There wasn't much downstairs that they needed, so Mark called up to Ethan he was done.
"Hey, Mark! There's a lot of candles up here! Should I light one to get rid of the stink? It's starting to burn my nostrils!" Ethan called.
Mark rolled his eyes. "Fine, just blow it out when you're done." He climbed back out the window to look around the house. Suddenly, it hit him, what the smell was from. He remembered when a gas line was broken near his street when he was younger, it had the same rotten egg aroma. "WAIT ETHAN DON'T-"
The explosion shook the house and blasted the upper floors windows out. Mark screamed and dropped to the ground, flames licked at his face. "ETHAN!" Mark sobbed.
Mark ran from the burning house, parts of his body burned and his clothes steaming. He could hear Ethan's wails of pain as he was being burned alive. Other zombies took notice to the loud boom and began to limp to the house.
Mark could hardly navigate his bike back to his house with tears blurring his vision and his nausea.
He stumbled to the door, Amy caught him before he fell. "What happened? Where's Ethan? We heard the explosion."
"I couldn't- I couldn't save him" Mark cried pulling Amy closer, She squeezed him tight. Who would they tease? Who would keep them sane? He couldn't believe he died like that, burned alive. He had a future, a dream.
"It's gonna be okay Mark," Tyler spoke softly.
"It's not fair." Mark wailed.
"Come on Mark, let's get you inside, you're hurt." Amy whispered kissing him on the forehead, tears dripping down her face.
"I'm gonna need some time alone," Tyler spoke, on the verge of tears.
The Korean laid down on the couch. "Amy, he deserved better, I heard him scream. It should have been me."
"Mark, please, don't say that." She squeezed her eyes shut.
Chica came up to him and put his head on his shoulder. The dog let out a small whimper
"Why can't we go back to the time where the only thing we worried about was what video we will upload. What if I forget his face? Oh god, I forget his laugh."
"I need to go." Amy murmured, tears finally streaming down her face "Please put cold water on your burns, it'll help."
She stood and left. Leaving Mark alone with his thoughts.
It should have been me.
To be continued...