Friday, July 30, 2010

"reeping the whirlwind"
no one remembers how it began. it could have started with a lead paint injected corndog or possibly a bad batch of raspberry jello. some other ideas that have been mentioned around our tire fires, which are a bit more ridiculous: million year old hibiscus spores, a mushroom being struck by lightning which then exploded into a puzzle of pieces, an egg which wasn't properly hardboiled, and my personal favorite: a mutated poison orange frog (they are so freaking cute).

all we know is that we have to deal with the here and now. we can't play the blame game. sure, when the doctors saw the very first patient known as "patient zero" (for obvious reasons) for the very first time, they didn't quarantine properly; and by properly, meaning double tapping two to
the skull. no, they had to test and re-test and run more tests until patient zero was completely undead and had that thirst for flesh that no one can understand, unless you have become an undead yourself. once patient zero bit the first victim, that hospital became a breeding ground of horrors beyond belief.

the infection seemed to spread quickly. first, the overweight and non-athletic types got it first. it seemed to take a while longer for the infection to spread with them, due to their diet of purely fast food grease and diet sodas, poor heart conditions and lack of good blood are the consequences. maybe there is something to be said here *ponders*. the blood borne illness spread faster in the bodies of the healthier "petri dishes".

as i was saying, no one remembers how this began. as all things of this nature, we begin in the middle. the world has become completely infected, and saying completely, i of course mean 99.9% of the human population. there is a "zero point whatever percentage" of us that have survived due to the overabundance of information on this subject. "zombies: when the undead take over (a survival field guide)" is a wealth of knowledge that the majority of people scoffed at, but where are they now? undead, thirsting for human blood with entrails stuck in between their teeth, like spinach and seeds.

the post apocalyptic world is a world of decay. we are the debris. food has become scarce. the water supply is all but gone. we've avoided the "safe places" that so many movies refer to, knowing the outcome of those places of dread. sure, a mall may show some security. even food and water, entertainment for all. movie theaters as well. they may be "safe" for a week, but it only takes one undead to find an opening. like insects, they will find the small hole and move in like a horde of death and destruction and hunger.

armed with an assortment of weapons, such as: cricket bats, chainsaws, shot guns (and other small firearms), we've survived thus far. even our own children are packing heat. we've gone through some gun safety with them and they have each notched their belt quickly with a score of kills.

our "family", which consists of friends and blood relatives, has moved to the wilderness. we have found a secure, abandoned farmhouse that has been renovated for our "particular needs". a co-op supply store down the road has helped with providing the necessities. a chain link fence with razor wire surrounds the perimeter. our ammunition has been fully stocked to capacity, and then some. there's a lake nearby and we hunt.

after a series of unfortunate events, i'm the only one left. everyone is gone. a swarm of the beasties has surrounded me. a lone streetlight shines upon my rebellion against these foul creatures. closer and closer they move in. i cock the barrels and pull the trigger. gunpowder ignites in a brilliant display of oranges, yellows and reds. one by one, the demons fall over, only to be replaced by a dozen more. grenades are thrown into the pack. an explosion and a few whimpers. the dead feed on each other. they turn on themselves and yet, the thirst of fresh flesh fills their nostrils and they turn back, only to be stopped by a slug. i hold my ground, atop my jalopy. time slows down, heart beat quickens. i seem to move at incredible speeds, seeing five and six steps ahead, knowing where each play needs to be. i never miss my mark. each planned shot finds the red of the bulls eye. suddenly, i slam down on top of the metal roof. stars fill my head and a dizziness blinds my alertness. a tug later and i feel myself being pulled into the hive. i grab the door frame and pull back. "this is the end", i think to myself. time slows even more. an millisecond takes an hour. soon, the feast will begin. and yet i'm at peace with it. i'm able to free a hand, grab at the last grenade attached to my belt and pull the pin. the searing pain of teeth sinks into my calf and meets with bone. the grenade drops to the ground.

i bolt out of bed. sweat drips down my face. it feels like i wet myself. thankfully no, it's just a pool of sweat. i look at my calf. no bite marks, not even a scar. i look around. the pale blue light from the moon streams in through the cracked curtains. the cool of the summer air wafts into the room like a breath of freshness. the steady inhale/exhale of my gorgeous wife is a comfort. she doesn't even stir.'s only a dream...
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