Young Writers Society

I don’t know how long I’ve been killing them. The Infected. Days blur into weeks. Weeks into months. Months into years. I have become a machine. Killing. Watching. Surviving. All I can think about is tomorrow. I hope it will be a new day. If I will wake up from this nightmare. But I am awake, I have been pinching myself on my arm so many times, my hand feels numb. Still, I cherish each day, like it will be my last. Memories are all I have now. But day by day, they become a little bit fainter, like an eclipse slowly covering the warmth of the Sun. There hasn’t been a clear day of sunshine since it began. I longed to see the Sun once more in all its life giving glory. To feel the heat shining on me with a clear sky ahead. That day never came.

I see one. My eyes fixed onto its decaying frame. It turns toward me. Its dislocated jaw and rotting flesh limp toward me. I sit down, trying to remember how it all started.A Thursday morning, I think, usual as any. Mundane problems filled my head. Bills, family, work, filled my head to the brim. I switched on the Television for a quick sigh of relief. Chaos, anarchy, a plague that swept across the world like wildfire. It killed my soul. Before I knew it, time had passed me by like the wind whizzing past my face. It was now less than a metre away. The smell of it was disgustingly nostalgic, its skin was a shade of decayed brown and ripped blood-streaked pants made it stumble as it walked. I drew out my machete from my pack. A clean cut through the head. I walked away as its lifeless body slumped to the ground. “600” I said. “Congrats”.

The smell of smoke and decay clouded the air. Abandoned cars and bodies littered the highway. “Storm’s coming” I muttered to myself. As if on cue, thunder rolled through the sky above. It had just begun to drizzle when a petrol station veered into view. It had two pumps in the front and a garage behind the main station. I had been there before, with my friend, I filled up his old Toyota while he took a smoke behind the station next to the bathroom.

I pushed the door of the station opened. Again I was met with smell of rotting flesh. What was I expecting? A room filled with living people smelling of sunflowers? “Yeah right”. There was not much to look at, a normal frosted glassed paned station with empty broken shelves lying overturned on the floor. Nothing I’m not used to. Two of them were there. One had a name tag that said ‘Ali” and his face was almost torn off exposing his rotted teeth. The other had severed arm and wore a Guns N’ Roses shirt with a torn sleeve. My hand was numb as I hacked and slashed my way through. 602.

I breathed in the cold air and caught a wisp of gasoline as I checked the pumps. No luck, as usual. I stopped for a moment looking into the horizon. I knew somewhere out there, beyond the chaos, the blood, somewhere paradise awaited me.

I carried my father’s revolver wherever I went. Didn’t use it much though, ammunition was scarce. Two bullets remained. I pulled it out and sat on a broken curb. I took a single bullet and pushed it in.The barrel felt cold as I pressed it against my forehead. The gun clicked as I pulled the trigger. Was it going to end just like this? ‘Click’. Undignified, sitting on a broken curb with not a penny to my name? ‘Click’. Maybe it was for the better. ‘Click’. The destruction, the killing, what was left to fight for? ‘Click’. The next chamber held the bullet but I couldn’t do it. Dead walking and bloodshed and I’m afraid of pulling a trigger to end it all.

The cold October rain hit me like bullets falling from heaven. One thing I knew was certain, winter was coming. I went back in to look for supplies. All the shelves were empty. No surprise. But something caught my eye. A Twinkie, half hidden behind a shelf. It was 7 months past its expiration date. I didn’t care, it was something. I stuffed it into my blood stained trousers. Suddenly, a sound from behind aroused me. Another one I thought to myself. “Just my luck”.

It had stopped raining but it was pitch black. For a moment, the clouds rolled back and the smoke cleared, and I saw the stars. They littered the night sky like a thousand fireflies and a pale crescent moon shone its fading light on me. The hairs on the back of my neck curled. I could feel it moving. It had no legs, dragging its body across the ground, leaving bits of itself and blood as it did. For a moment, I pitied it and wondered whether there was still someone inside or just a mindless flesh eater. I drew my weapon and put it out of its misery. 603. I saw another one, a child. She wore a pink blood streaked pink dress. The blood was still dripping from my machete when she stepped into the moonlight. Her face was unblemished; I saw my reflection in her right eye, her dark hair covering the other. She shivered in the cold night and her lips murmured as if she was saying a silent prayer.

“Hello?” she said while holding her hands to her mouth. I didn’t reply. I gave her my jacket. “Thank you” she said with a smile. “I lost my Mummy. She told me to go. I saw her being taken away, there was blood everywhere.” She began to cry. I wiped her tears. She smiled at me. Once upon a time, a smile didn’t mean a whole lot. But things changed, and a simple smile could change the way we saw the world and lifted the dark veil of this nightmare, at least for a moment.

Suddenly, I saw them. A hoard of them. They surrounded the station. I couldn’t believe how silent they were, I didn’t even notice them until now. One straggled towards me. I swung my machete and its headless corpse fell to the ground. More took its place from all directions. The more I killed, the more they came, like Hercules fighting the Hydra. 621. I knew we had to retreat back to the station. I pushed them back with my machete. She held my shirt and followed me in. I pushed back the door and she ran in. I took one last swing and I missed. One of them bit me in the arm and I swear I thought it smiled as it did. I let go of my machete and took out my gun. The sound of the shot rang in my ears and it fell to the ground. I closed the door and barricaded it with an ice cream freezer. 622.

I sat down and took a deep breath.I didn’t care about the stench anymore. She sat next to me. I examined the wound, and wondered how something so dead could bite so hard. My arm felt like it was on fire, the smell of it didn’t make it any better, I could tell it was missing a few teeth from the bit, a front tooth and a molar I think. She took my hand and clenched it tightly.

“I want you to run.” I said.

“What?! Where?!” she replied, stammering.

“Somewhere else, somewhere safe”

She said no more. I guess she knew what was going to happen. They banged against the glass panels, their bloody handprints were like murals on the walls. I took out my Twinkie and gave her half. I took a bite, a small dose of delight that held back the reality of things to come. She nibbled her half, and smiled with her eyes closed. “Ready?” I said. She nodded in reply. I took a stone and sketch on the ground ‘622’. I took a piece of wood from the broken shelf. I had the gun in my other hand.

“1, 2.......3”

I pulled the door open and shot the first one I saw. Its blood sprayed all over me. I threw the gun and pushed back the hoard with the wood and a small opening appeared. “RUN!!!” I shouted. She did. I saw her pink silhouette running across the road. I felt relieved, and then it began. They pulled me like a tug of war, biting and snarling at me. I could see all their rotting, decayed faces pressed against my skin, blood spraying all over my face and body. I thought to myself, this was how it was going to end. Unknown. Undignified. But it didn’t matter, I saved one person. One person remembered me. She survived and that was all that mattered.