Zombies

1

This one is for you
fineline_larry_walls
❤

He was awake. He knew he was because of the numbness in his body. Everything was so quiet. He was so tired that he didn't even manage to pry one eye open and he fell back to sleep.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he woke up the next time. His mind was blank. He opened his eyes slowly and the light hurt them. He closes them again quickly. He waited a minute or two before he opened them again, blinking rapidly. His mouth was really dry. Where was he?

He looked around. White walls. Hospital bed. Then he remembered. He got shot. Someone shot him on stage in Los Angeles. He could remember how much it hurt. That sharp, burning sensation when the bullet hit him in the abdomen. He remembered Harry's face. He looked shocked and terrified. He heard him scream his name and then everything went black. He must have passed out.

He shuddered from the memory. Thank God he was okay. Then he wrinkled his eyebrows. This was a hospital. Why was it so quiet? He looked around again. He was alone in the room. His face was itching. He scratched his chin and felt a pretty impressive beard. What the hell? How long had he been out?

He found an alarm clock and rang for a nurse. He waited a while but no one came. He rang again. Still nothing. Where was everyone? Where were his bandmates?

He forced himself to sit up. His body ached, like it hadn't moved in a while. He looked down at his torso. He was a little skinny but the bullet wound was healed. He graced his fingers over the scar. He then noticed the tube on his private parts. Great. A catheter. He rang the alarm again and waited. No one showed up. Was it broken?

He shouted a "hello?" and waited. The hospital was dead silent. He snorted. He had been shot for fucks sake. Where was his welcome committee? This is what he got for agreeing to put the band together again? He knew it was a bad idea.

He removed the tube from his dick with a grimace and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Apparently he had to do everything around here. He put his feet on the floor and tried to stand but they caved and he fell to the ground. Crap!

He tried to get up but his legs failed him so he started to crawl towards the door. He didn't exactly smell nice. His hair was falling into his eyes. It was kind of long and greasy. What kind of hospital was this?

He managed to reach the door and opened it. He looked around. The hallway was empty. He shouted "hello" again but no one came running. He was starting to get worried. Where were the staff? The patients? It wouldn't surprise him at all if their management had shipped him off to some low-budget hospital that was understaffed.

He seemed to be on his own. Great. Just fucking great. He pressed himself up to a standing position with the help of the wall. He was breathing heavy already. His muscles protested. He forced himself to take a step forward and he didn't fall to the ground this time. Soon he was walking, supporting himself against the wall.

He came out into the corridor. It was deserted. He found a phone and called Harry, the only number he knew. It was disconnected. That was weird. He knew his best friend. He wouldn't just dump him in a hospital.

He shouted "hello" again from the top of his lungs which only made him cough. His throat was so dry. No one came. This hospital was really deserted. What the hell happened?

He started to walk down a corridor and found a bathroom. He drank some water and jumped when he saw himself in the mirror. Fucking hell! How long had he been out? His beard was long and not taken care of and so was his hair. He was starting to freak out.

He had to get out of here, but first he needed some clean clothes and a shower. He found an open supply closet and grabbed some hospital clothes, a towel, and some shampoo and soap, and headed to the nearest room with a shower. He hurried to shower and get dressed. He returned to his room to try and find his shoes. Luckily they were in a closet and he put them on. When he was about to go to find the exit he realized that he hadn't called his family back in England. They must be worried sick. He was a little surprised that they weren't here. He got shot for crying out loud!

He found the phone and called home. No one answered. What the hell was going on? Well, he was going to find out. He walked towards the main entrance. The whole hospital felt like a ghost town. It was creepy.

He walked out and stopped in his tracks. He thought his heart would stop from the sight that met him. He had seen his fair share of zombie movies in his days and unless his eyes weren't tricking him, twenty something zombies were outside the hospital.

One of them saw him and came walking over slowly, making inhuman sounds that made all the hair on his skin stand up. He gasped and stumbled backward. He managed to get through the doors and inside the hospital again but if zombie movies had thought him anything, he wouldn't be alone for long. They would find their way in to eat him. His head was a mess, he couldn't collect his thoughts. This was impossible! What the hell happened while he was in the hospital? A freaking zombie apocalypse apparently!

Freddie! Oh my God. He needed to find his son. He could hear glass break behind him and started to run faster. He ran past a fire escape sign and ripped it off the wall. He needed another way out. He needed a fucking plan!