Surviving the Undead

Chapter 1

2 months and 17 days. That's how long it's been since I didn't have to worry about my every movement. Now, one loud noise or stumble could easily provoke an attack. Even just looking out a window like I was doing could doom me to a fate worse than death. My ice blue eyes noticed movement, and rapidly darted towards it. One of them was staggering down the street, his tattered clothes blowing in the breeze. That was another thing you had to be careful about. Standing directly upwind of one of them was one of the worst things you could do. The scent of human flesh would spark a relentless pursuit. Once they spotted you the moans would begin, drawing more of them to you. Basically you needed to get out of there fast, or be turned into a walking buffet.

He stopped in front of my house, swaying back and forth. His head turned slightly; he seemed to be looking around. I resisted the urge to shudder at his pocked and decaying flesh. Holding my breath, I drew the black curtain back into place as subtly as I could. When the curtain was back in place and no moans were audible, a small sigh of relief escaped my lips.

I turned from the window. My eyes located the door to my closet. That's where all of my food and water bottles were stored. When the outbreak began I had filled all of the upstairs sinks and bathtubs with water, as well as any containers I had handy. I tiptoed across the room and tried not to make a sound as I slid open the closet doors. A frown formed on my face, drawing my eyebrows together. Food was running low. All the perishables were long gone; I had eaten those first. A steady supply of vegetables was available from the garden; at least, until winter blew it's icy breath over the country. I shook my head. I couldn't be thinking about that yet, it would just depress me and lead to a lot of 'what ifs'.

The cans and boxes that were left would probably sustain me for a few more weeks, but it's better to be safe than sorry. I contemplated my options. There was the option of going on a raid. Most people weren't in a state where they would care if you stole from them anymore. Raids are risky though. Ghouls could be lurking behind closed doors waiting to release their unearthly moan. The sound of it still made my blood run cold. The other option was going to the store I had heard about. Of course, food would have a high price. I had weapons to spare, so I wasn't too concerned about it. Guns were definitely in demand; although water and then food beat them out.

The store seemed a safer bet while there were still so many barely decomposed ghouls around. I unfolded the large tarp that contained my weapons, wincing when it crinkled. The options were numerous. I examined a shotgun. It would do nicely. For my own protection I decided on a crowbar and a pistol. I strapped the pistol to my leg under my shorts with a Velcro band. The shotgun went in a small backpack with a bottle of water, a sweater, and a couple of granola bars. You never know when you're going to be trapped somewhere for the night. Finally, I twisted my long blonde hair into a tight bun. Holding my crowbar in one hand, I peeled back the curtain with the other. The ghoul was stumbling further down the street, away from me. This was going to start out more easily than I had thought.

One of the first things I had done when the outbreak began was to destroy the staircase. At that point, it was okay to make a lot of noise. Most people were shouting incessantly, crashing around their houses planning their escape from the city. I'd secured a rope to the wall so I could climb up and down, using the wall to brace my feet. As far as I knew, this was zombie-proof. They didn't have the dexterity or mental power to climb a rope. I easily climbed down and dropped to the ground without a noise. I went out the back door so I could survey the street again before I exposed myself. Peeking my head around the corner, I saw the ghoul shuffling away from me in the distance. Too bad; I hadn't made a kill in about a week. Allowing myself to get rusty would be suicide.

I began to move in the direction of the store. I encountered several abandoned cars in the road. I briefly wondered who their owners had been, and what had happened to them. An answer was given to me when I looked into the driver's side window of one of the cars. I stifled a gasp as I came face to face with a rotting corpse. They were one of the lucky ones; they hadn't re-animated.