Darkness was rapidly falling on my city, but unfortunately this only worsened my predicament. DJ Steve had listed several safe points only to retract them minutes to hours later as they were overrun and lost. Depression and a certain sense of hopelessness was enveloping me as the distant hills swallowed the slowly sinking sun. Not only that but my gas tank was over half empty, therefore I had a problem, or would have one soon enough. Plumes of thick oily smoke still obscured the sky, a dirty red haze in the wake of the setting sun. I could clearly hear the hellish sounds of the choas, which had increased since the morning. Howls of the undead, explosions of some sort, crackling of flames, screams and cries of the living, the reeving of vechiles, and the occasional gun shot. A few more loaded cars of survivors passed me. One even took a shot at me, a shotgun, loud and booming, it echoed stangley in my ears. The driver swerved around me, spinning out on the slick pavement, but it glanced harmlessly off the hood. Idiots. Zombies DON'T drive.
I had stopped in the middle of a desolate mall parking lot in order to grab some warmer clothes and a snack or two to sooth my empty stomach. Only to have to race back inside and burn some serious rubber out of that lot. I had neglected to notice one of the stores front windows were smashed. Stupid. This place, according to DJ Steve had previously been one of those safe points I mentioned above. But it turned out to be the first one to be overrun by the hungry undead. Of course he hadn't imparted this knowledge till sometime after I made it away. I roll my eyes at this memory, even today! Anyway, the place was overrun and infected, as such you can imagine the result... I ended up being chased across the lot and out to the street by a massive group of them. They poured out of the place like ants moving through a disturbed nest. Pushing over one another, limbs flailing in their haste to reach the tender morsel on their doorstep. The air was thick with their stench, death, dirt, blood, and evil. As Mike used to say: "They smell like ass!" Ironically DJ Steve put on Meat Loaf's "Bat out of Hell" as I was boot'in it down the street, zombie traffic in tow.
I was startled from my musings of the cocky DJ's song choice, to the booty shaking music of my cheerful ring tone. After a few seconds of heart-pounding fumbling I retrieved my prize, and hands shaking in barely contained excitement I flipped it open and greeted the caller. I have to admit my heart sank a bit as Rachel's horror-filled voice resounded in my ears. But this feeling quickly turned to relief and gratitude, at least there was one person left in my personal world. Shaking myself from my jumbled thoughts I focused on her words...
"Oh God! I am so fucked! Oh god! What do I do! What do I do!" Came her voice, shrill with panic.
"Wait! Wait! Hold up! What wrong Rach!?" I replied loudly.
In the following seconds of silence I could discern muffled thumps, a pause in her harsh, loud breathing. Then nothing. Seconds slid by till I heard it. The dreaded blood-chilling moan of the undead. My heart froze, I felt like an invisible attacker had choked the breath from me.
"Rach?! Rachel! Oh my god..NO...please no...RACHEL!"