Maybe it was the thought of death… Maybe it was the stench, the sound of their moan… Maybe it was the way they looked… Maybe it was zombies.
Journal, Unknown.
I was nobody to them. I wasn't the sheer fury that was Sheen, not the brain of Jimmy, not the pure cleverness that was Cindy. I had done nothing, really. I'd kept to the shadows, stayed in my tent on the roof slowly starving to death. Depressed is what I was. My family, my friends, my… my…life! It was gone! Did nobody else feel that? Did they feel anything? They were zombie-killing machines, nothing more. Libby had to prove herself.
I didn't know if I'd ever prove myself. The second the Army came, they seemed destined for failure. Too many spent rounds with no effect. Too many deaths. Dropping that… whatever it was seemed like a last ditch effort. Either way, I was thrown off into a pool of destiny. I was standing on about the highest place you could get, short of getting on the roof, about the edge. Having just got done with my struggle with the zombie, I was too weak to do anything but stare as the gust from the bomb flew at us.
It was the scariest experience of my life. Having tons of ghouls crowded around your house, as you were falling off, was unimaginable. What kind of effect would falling directly into a shitload of zombies do to you? Nothing but a bloody mess, maybe a few bones. As I was thrown off, my nails desperately grabbed the roof. My nails were torn off into oblivion. Funny, still thinking womanly thoughts even when zombie apocalypse was knocking at my door. I'm such a girl. Tee- hee.
After my futile effort to save myself, I looked ahead. I saw this huge, brown mass just sailing at me god-knows-how-fast. In reality (or whatever confused perception I had of it then) I was sailing at it. I couldn't do anything short of raising my hands, in some pointless effort of saving my eyes. Yeah right. Like my hands would help. Either way, I had failed to realize that my legs were flying just as fast as I was.
I hit the tree at top speed. My ankle had just completely broken, and my foot was turned nearly sideways. The rest of me was hanging from a branch, which I had grabbed. I desperately tried to lift myself up, cursing my lack of muscle. Those pounds from the junk I always at were beginning to reveal themselves, with a vengeance. Then I felt something- a bite.
I froze up, feeling the after affect of the bite. My shoe! He had bitten my shoe! Luckily, it was a leather shoe. He couldn't bite through it. He was simply gumming it. No matter how much of a lucky call it was, it was still close. If the thing had just a few more teeth, or if my shoe had been soft enough to bite through, well… I wouldn't be talking to you or to anyone. Unless you counted my moaning.
I used the zombie's head as a spring, jumping into the tree. The ghouls were finally beginning to swarm me. It was a good thing the tree didn't have any kind of angle, or else they could have easily angled up to me. After settling down, I checked myself. I still had my pistol, a .22 Rimfire, and my iPod. It didn't work of course, the battery had long run out. The pistol was pretty short of ammo, only three more ten round clips were left, There was more then thirty zombies who had swarmed me, though, and there was no way I could score a headshot on any big amount of them.
I actually about cried. It was hopeless! Life was hopeless! If I fell, I'd break more and couldn't run at all. I'd get bitten if fell near any, most likely. So I was dead. I had no food on me. I raised the pistol to my head- but then I stopped. I realized I had a chance. I could slide down the tree, and take off. If anything, I could find a house that wasn't destroyed. My ankle wasn't a weight bearing bone. I couldn't run, though… A smile came to my lips. Neither could they!
My plan was beginning. There was a zombie on my way down, and a few in the path I had chosen, the one with the fewest ghouls. I stuck my good foot in front of my bad one, if anything it could serve as a brake. I began to slide, grimacing as my ankle started to ache. One shot. One kill. I jumped the last few feet down, shooting a zombie in my way. She fell over to the side, useless. Not that she wasn't useless before, of course.
My journey had begun. The ghouls, in accordance, raced, or at least what one would consider racing for a dead person, off into no general direction. I moved a little faster than them, luckily. Still, it must have been amusing, this frantic race of cripples.
Just when I was beginning to fell pain in my legs, I heard something. Not the usual groan of the zombies, something different… Something mechanical. A rumble, a rumble like a… car.
An army humvee came flying in, running over several corpses in the process. In the mirror I could see Sheen, my savior. He grabbed my hand, throwing me into the back seat. The first thing I noticed, or rather smelled, was the dead zombies sitting next to me. Then I noticed the machine guns and rifles. I smiled. Sheen had jacked a car, the crazy bastard.
He looked back at me, giving the best smile a man covered in brains and blood could give.
"Anybody order takeout?"
That was my Sheen.