Chapter 2: How did I get here? Part two

Slade felt the wind whip around in his face. It felt nice for once to not worry a little, to just relax and enjoy life. He loved that feeling. One thing he never did really get in a long time. Until Slade noticed the motorcycle going slower, fast.

Looking down, Slade saw the gas nearly empty. "Fuck," he murmured.

Pulling it to a complete stop, Slade jumped off and took in his surroundings. The streets were deserted but wrecked cars, litter, bodies (both zombie and human), and lots of blood filled in that "void". The air smelled rotten and of crap, no more to say. The buildings were decorated with blood and a quite the amount of bullet impacts.

Slade prepared himself with his gun and walked, if luck was on his side maybe he can get a decent hiding spot. Glancing at the sky, he watched the sun slowly dip down. Now he was screwed. Night was approaching fast, he was out in the open, had no transpiration, and he was low on ammo.

His options; die, fight and die, run like hell, or try to take shelter in one of the buildings.

Slade amused himself in his head. Now, he couldn't from the fact he was immortal, running like hell would be a very amusing site, and the buildings looks as if it belonged to the zombies.

Turning, Slade headed in the one of the buildings.

Yep, the smell of rotted bodies didn't get any better than this. It was an apartment building from what Slade could tell. That told him two things; one, there was supplies and two, there might be a survivor. But, Slade groaned remembering what happened last time. He had walked into a cabin in the woods, but surprise, surprise! There was a flipping zombie family. Parents, three children, and a fucking zombie dog. Imagine what fun that family meeting was?

Slade walked with his gun high waiting to shot anyone. Spotting an elevator, he slowly walked. Pressing a button then watched the doors open; Slade looked in surprised not to see any blood or bodies. Going in was heaven. There wasn't any smell of blood or flesh, and then Slade got that "normal" feeling again.

"Let's see if this still works," Slade pushed the highest floor, thirty.

As the metal door opened, Slade readied himself with his gun pointing it out, getting ready for any zombies. The man walked slowly, he kept his breathing steady. Each step was treated with a double look behind, there was a stair case. But Slade reached the end of the hall; he placed a hand on the door knob and gave a hopeful turn. The door swung open revealing shadowy figures covered in the darkness.

Slade squinted a bit, but knew his eyes wouldn't adjust in a long time. His hand traveled up the walls until he felt the light switch. Closing his eyes, Slade flipped it on then opened. He smiled at his miracle, the elevator was working, the power too.

Slade made a little watch for the water too.

The built man wondered around to find the kitchen. There were two notes left on the counter, taking both he read the older one first (yes, there are dates on them, on with the story!).

"Dear John,

Went out for groceries, be back soon!

-Mary"

Slade scoffed, he kinda wondered what it might have been like to be "Mary". To be shopping then a wave of . . . zombies hits. Shaking his head, Slade moved on to the next note.

"Dear Mary,

If you have returned alive, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving but I didn't have a choice! They insisted on going with these soldiers, they promised to find you and they said they had a safe camp for us to live in. If you're not alive . . . I hope you got yourself something nice.

-John"

Slade merely put aside the notes; it took little effect on his heart. But instead went to look for a bathroom and, of course, found one. After doing his business, Slade discovered the water was still somehow on. Not questioning his luck, Slade took advantage of the illogical situation. Finding some towels, spare clothing, and some soap. Making himself a bath was another action that was triggering his "normal" feeling.

Shrugging it off, Slade stripped and gladly soaked in the hot water. But keeping a gun in close arm range. He scraped off all the dirt and washed thoroughly. Then relaxed and enjoyed the steam.

But his mind kept going back to his tragic family.

It was a normal day. His children and ex-wife were visiting from work and university. The rules with Adeline; no guns and keep five feet distance on his property . . . and vice versa when visiting her. It was nice; they were talking about their lives. Grant, his oldest, was a mercenary like when he was too. Joey, the middle child, was in a music university. And his baby Rose was soon going off to a combat collage. Slade didn't even know. It was nice and normal. Until they attacked.

Slowly his family died. Grant and Adeline were both mauled when they first attacked and were caught off guard. Then little later, Joey caught a nice illness and died shortly. And his dear little baby girl, Rose… she killed herself. Slade was the only one left behind.

His eyes snapped open as the image of Rose's body started to enter his mind. Shaking it off, Slade noticed the water was now close to cold. Getting out, Slade dried himself off and dressed in his new clothes. The man was a little bit bigger then him but it still suited him. He found a loose black t-shirt, grey sweat pants, and a white pull-over sweater.

Slade retreated to the bedroom. He walked over to the bed and lay down. Pure . . . Heaven. Keeping his gun close, Slade felt a little safer after barricading the door with the dresser and a nightstand.

And in a long time, Slade slept. But as his mind slipped into a void of black, he reflected on his life. He was once a proud father and mercenary, he wasn't afraid of anything and everything feared him. But now, he was a heartbroken survivor that needed to bring a gun everywhere to feel decently safe. Slade feared his life more than he had ever.

"How did I get here?" he murmured before a deep slumber over took him.