My eyes were bloodshot and teary, yet my skin remained coarse and parched.
Blood drenched my quivering hands and plastered my tattered, filthy
clothes. I peered upon the gruesome carnage; the lonesome streets were
flooded with the corpses of charred cars, small, fuzzy animals, and even
innocent citizens.
After another heartfelt glare onto the wasteland, I released my beat-red hands from the moldy, reeking head. My erect fingers brought themselves from the creature's eye-sockets and then fell limp. These 'creatures' were revolting; there skin so disgustingly decade and there eyes pale as the moon. They walked, more or less stumbled toward there targets, there stiff legs pushed them forward while there arms fingered ahead. It appears that this unsightly city was in a movie script, the way these things wandered about aimlessly, scavenging for the living. This might sound far-fetched, but I believe these creatures or none other than "zombies" themselves.
I had been in this demolished wasteland for three days, fending for myself and searching for survivors. I had taken supplies from local shops and helped myself to a few weapons and ammo as well. I had a shelter near here. It is crammed with guns, ammo, and food to the maximum. Pillows and blankets are disorderly arranged about the small shack. It gave me a comfy nesting ground for sleeping and resting.
Everyday is another day of war, there is always an obstacle that you must face whether it is these reeking undead or demolished bridges or scrapes and bruises, and I have lived it all.
'Better get back to camp' I murmured while gazing toward the sky, the beaming sun had just begun to sink below the mountainous hills, and it was too dangerous to be strutting the streets in darkness.
I lifted my bulky pack and heaved it over my shoulders so it was securely resting upon my back. It was packed full of beverages and a stubbed shotgun incase any pesky creatures attempted to obscure my path, even with a glock strapped between my hip and belt buckle, I'd rather be safe then sorry.
I was ready to begin the journey back toward 'home'.
*Scrape*
It was that known sound, the sound I had been feuding and escaping from these last three days, the lugging of feet over the loose gravel.
*Moan*
I tossed around to discover a mob of decaying humans, there stiff arms aiming in my direction. I reach for my glock and prepared myself for another battle between myself and the revolting flesh eaters.
On my weapon, safety was non-existent, something I had shattered with a stone. With a blood thirsty creature facing you, there isn't much thought, just a twitchy trigger finger and a horrified mind.
*Bam bam bam*
Three shots and one less figure standing, its bony chest now plastered with two wounds and his forehead held one as well, but its three other companions were still stumbling tall, there mouth's now wide open and expecting an early dinner.
*Bam bam bam*
Three more lead ticks blasted from the tip of my barrel, planting two into the arm of one of the flesh eating humans, while the other shattered through an abandoned cars windshield.
"Damnit!" I cursed, the two well-placed shots didn't affect the zombie, and I only had two bullets left in the chamber. Without another thought, I unloaded it.
*Bam.*
I paused momentarily as another beast collapsed to its knees, and suddenly fell forward and slammed against the jagged pavement. I was now stumbling backwards, away from the remaining things reach, it was either him or me, and I was the one with the bullet.
*Bam*
In inches reach, my finger tapped the trigger and the foes head violently wrenched backward, followed by his scrawny body. A mixture of mucus and blood began to outline his carcass and continued growing, spreading onto the pavement until finally stopping.
I reach into my pocket and retrieved a cluster of Kleenex, the led of a pencil, and a torn, withered notepad. I quickly discarded the Kleenex that was engulfed with a splash of vivid red, carelessly tossing it into the air.
I then used the bit of graphite to jot into the pad. An extravagantly large amount of ones were marked upon four sheets of stained paper. I hurriedly added three more and shoved the essentials into my pocket again.
"329 and still counting," I whispered as I dug my fingernails in my inner pocket. That flimsy notepad and those senseless rows of 1s were the only things maintaining my sanity, and believe me, it wasn't a cake-walk when you arise every morning to discover another mob of flesh hungry folks and have to squeeze the trigger over and over to survive.It was now my daily routine.
I began wandering toward my hideaway, pacing quickly, praying that I didn't find myself ambushed by a few hostile undead. Through the creepy, gloom square and passed the blood blemished, waterless fountain, I had finally reached my so-called 'home'. Surprisingly, not a single quarrel between myself and the enemies through the entire walk, other than the occasional groan and shuffle, no zombies had threatened me.
I peered around, glaring into every nook and cranny until I was finally assured no one was roaming about. I heaved up an enormous, sturdy metal door which lead to my hideaway, I slid inside and quickly shoved it into place.
I gazed about my comfy station, blankets and pillows carelessly thrown into a cluster, food and water rested upon the cement floor, along with splatters of vivid red here and there. Weapons were everywhere, combat and hunting knives were placed upon small shelves while an Assault Rifle, Automatic Ingram, and a dozen or so handguns had fallen on the ground while others were leaning on the tarnished and stained walls. A metal baseball bat lay beside my untidy cot, incase any unwanted enemies somehow wandered into my fortress and I had to act quick.
I tumbled into the cloth-stack and shed my tarnished shirt, followed by my blemished, torn jeans. I hastily threw them into a darkened corner and began my search for fresh, new attire.
Digging about momentarily led me to discover an unsoiled pair of high- waters beside a cluster of shotgun shells and a jug of discolored water. I hurriedly slipped them on while my dreary eyes continued searching for any kind of upper body clothing, but before anything was found, I was fast asleep on my comfy pile, praying for better days.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------
After another heartfelt glare onto the wasteland, I released my beat-red hands from the moldy, reeking head. My erect fingers brought themselves from the creature's eye-sockets and then fell limp. These 'creatures' were revolting; there skin so disgustingly decade and there eyes pale as the moon. They walked, more or less stumbled toward there targets, there stiff legs pushed them forward while there arms fingered ahead. It appears that this unsightly city was in a movie script, the way these things wandered about aimlessly, scavenging for the living. This might sound far-fetched, but I believe these creatures or none other than "zombies" themselves.
I had been in this demolished wasteland for three days, fending for myself and searching for survivors. I had taken supplies from local shops and helped myself to a few weapons and ammo as well. I had a shelter near here. It is crammed with guns, ammo, and food to the maximum. Pillows and blankets are disorderly arranged about the small shack. It gave me a comfy nesting ground for sleeping and resting.
Everyday is another day of war, there is always an obstacle that you must face whether it is these reeking undead or demolished bridges or scrapes and bruises, and I have lived it all.
'Better get back to camp' I murmured while gazing toward the sky, the beaming sun had just begun to sink below the mountainous hills, and it was too dangerous to be strutting the streets in darkness.
I lifted my bulky pack and heaved it over my shoulders so it was securely resting upon my back. It was packed full of beverages and a stubbed shotgun incase any pesky creatures attempted to obscure my path, even with a glock strapped between my hip and belt buckle, I'd rather be safe then sorry.
I was ready to begin the journey back toward 'home'.
*Scrape*
It was that known sound, the sound I had been feuding and escaping from these last three days, the lugging of feet over the loose gravel.
*Moan*
I tossed around to discover a mob of decaying humans, there stiff arms aiming in my direction. I reach for my glock and prepared myself for another battle between myself and the revolting flesh eaters.
On my weapon, safety was non-existent, something I had shattered with a stone. With a blood thirsty creature facing you, there isn't much thought, just a twitchy trigger finger and a horrified mind.
*Bam bam bam*
Three shots and one less figure standing, its bony chest now plastered with two wounds and his forehead held one as well, but its three other companions were still stumbling tall, there mouth's now wide open and expecting an early dinner.
*Bam bam bam*
Three more lead ticks blasted from the tip of my barrel, planting two into the arm of one of the flesh eating humans, while the other shattered through an abandoned cars windshield.
"Damnit!" I cursed, the two well-placed shots didn't affect the zombie, and I only had two bullets left in the chamber. Without another thought, I unloaded it.
*Bam.*
I paused momentarily as another beast collapsed to its knees, and suddenly fell forward and slammed against the jagged pavement. I was now stumbling backwards, away from the remaining things reach, it was either him or me, and I was the one with the bullet.
*Bam*
In inches reach, my finger tapped the trigger and the foes head violently wrenched backward, followed by his scrawny body. A mixture of mucus and blood began to outline his carcass and continued growing, spreading onto the pavement until finally stopping.
I reach into my pocket and retrieved a cluster of Kleenex, the led of a pencil, and a torn, withered notepad. I quickly discarded the Kleenex that was engulfed with a splash of vivid red, carelessly tossing it into the air.
I then used the bit of graphite to jot into the pad. An extravagantly large amount of ones were marked upon four sheets of stained paper. I hurriedly added three more and shoved the essentials into my pocket again.
"329 and still counting," I whispered as I dug my fingernails in my inner pocket. That flimsy notepad and those senseless rows of 1s were the only things maintaining my sanity, and believe me, it wasn't a cake-walk when you arise every morning to discover another mob of flesh hungry folks and have to squeeze the trigger over and over to survive.It was now my daily routine.
I began wandering toward my hideaway, pacing quickly, praying that I didn't find myself ambushed by a few hostile undead. Through the creepy, gloom square and passed the blood blemished, waterless fountain, I had finally reached my so-called 'home'. Surprisingly, not a single quarrel between myself and the enemies through the entire walk, other than the occasional groan and shuffle, no zombies had threatened me.
I peered around, glaring into every nook and cranny until I was finally assured no one was roaming about. I heaved up an enormous, sturdy metal door which lead to my hideaway, I slid inside and quickly shoved it into place.
I gazed about my comfy station, blankets and pillows carelessly thrown into a cluster, food and water rested upon the cement floor, along with splatters of vivid red here and there. Weapons were everywhere, combat and hunting knives were placed upon small shelves while an Assault Rifle, Automatic Ingram, and a dozen or so handguns had fallen on the ground while others were leaning on the tarnished and stained walls. A metal baseball bat lay beside my untidy cot, incase any unwanted enemies somehow wandered into my fortress and I had to act quick.
I tumbled into the cloth-stack and shed my tarnished shirt, followed by my blemished, torn jeans. I hastily threw them into a darkened corner and began my search for fresh, new attire.
Digging about momentarily led me to discover an unsoiled pair of high- waters beside a cluster of shotgun shells and a jug of discolored water. I hurriedly slipped them on while my dreary eyes continued searching for any kind of upper body clothing, but before anything was found, I was fast asleep on my comfy pile, praying for better days.
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