Frank was breathing hard as he came around the corner of the building. He stopped short and slammed his back against the wall. His heart was pounding hard in his chest as he thought for a moment of what was happening, and how it had begun. He had been watching a re-run of Gilligans island. It was one where the castaways built a bicycle car out of bamboo and coconut shells. He always got upset about how absurd that invention was. Then an announcement broke in with an Emergency logo across the screen. The announcer sat with unbelieving paranoia in her eyes, and Franks expression froze.
Reports are flooding in that dead people are coming back to life and attacking the living. This is not a joke nor is it a hoax. All across the nation at this hour, broadcasters from our affiliates and the major networks are echoing and confirming reports that people who have died, are returning to life. These once dead individuals have been seen biting, killing, and in some instances eating their victims. A reporter from this station, out on routine assignment, was attacked and is presumed dead. We have disturbing footage taped from the downtown area where our Bill Watkins was reporting on the demolition of the St. Clark Hotel. The images flashed through Franks mind again. A confident Watkins who was standing in front of the hotel babbling something about posterity, was suddenly distracted by a man coming towards him from within the condemned building.
After a few seconds of unanswered probing, the individual came close enough for the camera to capture a close up of the apparently deceased man before he began clawing and biting Bill Watkins. The footage ended after the camera had fallen to the ground, Watkins screams had faded, and the camera mans screams echoed through the abandoned hotel entrance. The tear soaked face of the first announcer returned and she continued, All local station broadcasts are to be replaced by the National Civil Defence Network this evening at 6:00 p.m. Please stay indoors and keep your television tuned to this station for continuing updates.
Frank shook his head to clear the bloody images from his mind, and took a deep breath. After he saw the first report, he had tried to reach his family on the telephone. He found that there was a constant busy signal that probably meant that either the lines were overloaded or communications had been halted by some government agency. He assumed that this agency had already been in place to deal with the crisis. Either way he was unable to reach anyone and was now alone in the situation.
The thought of the dead returning to life was not all that incredible for Frank. He was a student at the local university and was often in the campus library reading and researching a myriad of topics. He had read an article reporting that a village in Sierra Colorada, South America was plagued by some kind of virus in the late 1970s.
The virus was said to have revived the dead and cause them to become flesh eating creatures. The incident resulted in over 4000 deaths and hundreds of missing people were reported in only a matter of days. He had also heard about a document that was submitted by a couple of scientists to a government office that dealt with Bio-technological Advances. They claimed to be responsible for allowing some mutated human specimens to escape from their laboratory.
They stated that the specimens were extremely dangerous and were to be treated as bio-hazardous contaminants. Following a string of murders and mutilations tied directly to the escaped specimens, the two scientists were arrested and the specimens finally captured by the National Guard. No official public report of the story was ever released after that particular document surfaced, nor were the scientists heard from again.
The fact that real zombies were actually appearing here in the city made him to wonder how it could have started. He began to ask himself questions. How could this really be happening and why? How many were already in the city and of those, how many were active in his immediate area? What was he going to do now?
A rustling of feet against the pavement jarred him out of his pensive state. He chanced to peer around the corner into the alley that he had just run through to get away from the ghoul infested parking lot. A single figure darkened the alley entrance and moving its head from side to side as though sniffing the chilled night air for something or someone. Frank darted away from the building and ran along the metal fence that separated his apartment complex from the trucking company in the next block.
He rushed ahead beside the fence until he came to a grass covered field where the fencing turned and extended to his right. He looked to see if the lumbering figure was in pursuit, it was not. He thought of how quickly things had seemed to fall apart around him. After he had tried to reach someone by phone, he had looked out through his living room mini blinds to see what was going on outside and that is when he saw the first of the zombies.
He knew that staying in his apartment with no contact to others and no means of protecting himself, was a very bad idea. He saw several of the ghouls moving about downstairs in the main courtyard. There were only a few, but more were coming in from the parking lot. As he scrambled down his staircase, he saw that there many apartment doors wide open, but there was no normal activity for this time of night.
He had hidden behind one of the large dumpsters for a couple of hours, watching the zombies walk around. He thought about where everyone had gone too, was he the only one left in this neighbourhood? No dogs barking, no people running and screaming in the midst of this crisis, how had he missed it? One of the ghouls was getting closer to his hiding spot, that's when he decided to run through the alley.
He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and considered his options. What were the chances of finding one of the trucking rigs with the key in the ignition? Humph, only in the movies Frank, he told himself. He thought he might as well try to find one anyway, because he did not fancy the idea of running through all the ghouls he would eventually encounter.
Up, over the fence, and down he dropped to the ground on the other side. There were seven trucks parked in the depot and in the distance he noticed the main gate was open. He looked in all seven of the trucks, but no keys were left hanging at the end of his rainbow. What now? He had never tried to hot wire a vehicle before, but he was a college student so why not give it the old college try?
He hopped up into one of the cabs and slid the steering wheel up to its highest position. He ducked his head underneath the dashboard, pulled down the wiring, and busted out laughing. He knew he was probably not going to get lucky, since he hadn't the slightest idea which wires needed to be crossed. After several minutes of trying different combinations, he sat up and drew a breath.
He sat in coolness of the cab and listened to the noises of the evening. The sound of sirens filled the air and what could have only been explosions rang out in the distance. He knew he should keep moving, but where should he go? He needed some kind of protection, which is one of the reasons he left his apartment in the first place.
The Pawn Shop!, He exclaimed out loud and to his surprise. Surely there would be something there he could use to protect himself. Since there were not many living people that he could see in this area, he figured that maybe it had been evacuated. His apartment complex was located just ten minutes from the downtown area, which is where the first reports had come from. The other possibility was that the people ran away in a mass panic and probably had already looted all the stores, including the pawn shop.
Whatever had happened, he had to check it out before he went any farther. Then he realised that he would have to double back in the direction he had come from because the pawn shop was on the other side of his apartment complex. Great, he sarcastically stated. As he opened the door of the truck, he saw that a group of zombies had moved into the truck depot.
There was more than twenty of the zombies converging on the door on the drivers side of the truck. He slid over to the passengers side and opened the door. He climbed out and onto the roof of the truck just as a couple of the ghouls made their way to the door. From the roof, he could count about twenty-five of the dead things beginning to surround the truck.
His senses were immediately flared by two things in the air that caused him to stagger back. He heard the unearthly moans that streamed into his ears as a horribly foul odour rose up to fill his nostrils. One of the dead things was attempting to climb onto the hood of the truck. When Frank saw this, he decided to make his move. He leapt to the next trucks rooftop and again until he was on the last truck. He jumped down off the truck just as the first of the zombies neared him.
He ran from the truck depot and headed towards the pawn shop. As the sound and the smell of the ghouls were left behind, he slowed his pace and began to look ahead for others, living or dead. At the first intersection, he saw several cars and trucks scattered throughout the area. Two of the cars were blackened by an apparently a large fire. A few figures were moving about near an abandoned gas station and Frank realised that the movements were not those of the living.
He stayed near the shrubbery and the buildings that lined the east side of the street. So far, none of the zombies had noticed him. He moved along in silence, keeping an eye out for every moving shadow. After a few more yards he saw the pawn shop in the distance. It looked as though it had already been looted and had sustained some fire damage. Fire?, He questioned to himself. He realised that earlier he had heard sirens bellowing out in the night, but the sound of them had now moved away.
It appeared that the events which took place here had happened some time ago, though the smell of smoke still lingered in the air. The smoke was accompanied by an ever growing stench which Frank quickly recognised. Nausea grew within him as his lungs filled with the putrid stink and his head began to swim. Light-headed, he stopped behind one of the small buildings. He buckled over and grabbed at his stomach and the last meal he had eaten spilled out onto the ground.
He stood up after a few minutes, wiped the tears that watered his eyes, and spat out the last bit of bile-laden saliva. He gulped in some fresh air and put his head against the wall to steady himself. He looked around to see if his actions had attracted any attention. Seeing that he was safe, he continued onward to the pawn shop. He entered through a glass-less window frame on the far right side of the store front.
As he had suspected, all of the guns were taken. The tile floor was covered with broken glass and bullet casings. He sifted through the rubble in the middle of the shop. He found only broken guitars, busted stereo equipment, and several cabinets that had been reduced to shards of particle board. He decided to make his effort whole-hearted and checked the corners of the shop as well.
He moved pieces of melted jewellery and threw aside different bits of plastic handles and hardware. A clanking sound on the debris covered tile caught his attention as he moved a large table to one side. He looked down to see an array of tools that had been displayed on top of another table. No doubt the mob which ran-sacked the place, were uninterested in this table with all the weapons there were to be taken.
He saw many different wrenches, screwdrivers, and hammers on the floor. He picked up one screwdriver about six inches long and placed it in his back pocket. Then he saw, in the midst of various sizes of bolts and sockets, a crowbar. It was slightly bent and no longer held its original lustre. He picked up the crowbar and figured that it might serve useful in a close encounter with one of those things.
Frank looked up and noticed that several zombies had moved in front of the shop. They had not focused on him yet, but they undoubtedly would see him when he left the shop. The first thought he had was to check for a back door. All shops have a back door, he mused. Frank made his way to the back of the shop and found a short hallway extending from the main counter. The back door should be at the end of the hallway.
The object of his search however, would never be felt by his hands. He saw the entire area surrounding the back door and the end of the hallway cluttered with large beams of steel. The back door was blocked by the smouldering remnants of the supporting walls laying across the floor. There had indeed been a fire in the shop and it had brought down the back wall of the shop onto itself.
He turned and headed back towards the front of the shop. There were more of the dead than before in the parking lot. He stepped softly as he moved forward, but the crunching sound of broken glass grinding together underfoot was still too loud. One of the zombies turned its head looking in the shops direction and Frank stood still.
He watched as the ghoul silently stared right at him. Then it began to walk towards him and let out a deep gurgling moan. The sound made Franks skin crawl and he knew the others would hear and follow. As he stepped out of the shop, the large group of zombies moved in on the shop from all sides. He made a break for the main street, quickly passing two of the nearest zombies with their out-stretched arms.
Near the curb on the west side of the shop ,stood a lone zombie. It was the only one directly in Franks path of escape. He ran forward and heaved the crowbar overhead. Then he swung at the zombies head just as he neared the curb side. The zombie moved slightly to Franks left as the crowbar was about to make contact.
The blow struck the ghouls shoulder and scraped its neck as it missed the things head. The zombie stumbled a few steps and toppled onto the asphalt of the street as the crowbar dropped away from the two of them. The momentum of the swing pulled Frank forward and off balance, then he fell. As the zombie slowly stood erect, Frank had time to stand and look at where to go from here. The group of zombies that were lumbering near the shop entrance began to moan in unison as they moved in Franks direction.
Frank ran up the street from his neighbourhood and could see the ruins of the buildings that once stood on either side. Smoke was issuing from almost every building, and so were the zombies. As he ran, he saw the fast food restaurant, the gas station, and his favourite bar all filled with the living dead. He felt an overwhelming sense of doom as he remembered all the different moments he had spent having fun, getting the things he needed, and simply living life.
Now, here he was running like a fox chased by hounds, running for his life, and running the wrong way! He stopped his run with both feet hitting the pavement at once and caught himself from falling. He realised that he had run into the heart of a highly populated suburb. He choked on a quickly inhaled breath as he saw his fate around him. Hundreds of the ghouls were milling about in their thoughts of the dead. Then they saw him, and the moan that had once been coming only from behind him, now rang out in his ears in full surround stereo.
The sound of so many dead caused Frank to lose control of his bladder and he trembled as the warm liquid seeped down the front of his pants. He looked around, and from every possible direction they came. In an ever tightening circle the zombies moved in closer with clawing hands and hunger in their sunken eyes. He punched and kicked at the zombies, and even stabbed at a few with the screwdriver he had. He fought until the first bite sank into his shoulder.
Another bite into his leg caused him to twist around and let out an agonising scream. One after another, the ghouls continued to devour him and the loudest sound that could be heard was his scream. A scream of terror and of pain. A scream that echoed out into the night. A scream that caused Frank to bolt upright in his bed. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could feel the beads of sweat cascading down his face. The same sweat that had saturated the pillow and the sheets he now tossed aside. Holy Shit! He exclaimed.
He put his legs over the edge of the bed, reached over and clicked on the lamp beside his bed. That's what I get for watching all of those horror movies, he said aloud. He washed his face and changed into a fresh tee-shirt. Then he went into the living room and sat on the couch. He figured he would watch a little television to clear mind of the sunken-eyed faces that still flashed in his mind.
He clicked on the television and surfed around until he saw a re-run of Gilligans island. It was one where the castaways built a bicycle car out of bamboo and coconut shells. He always got upset about how absurd that invention was. Then an announcement broke in with an Emergency logo across the screen. The announcer sat with unbelieving paranoia in her eyes, and Franks expression froze.
- THE END -