The Zombie Experience

Eaten Alive

I wail as I feel the flesh being roughly detached from my leg. I don't care if the monsters hear me anymore; they already know I'm here. A horrific sensation runs up my leg, as if it's been stuffed with nails and submerged in flames. Frantically flailing my legs, I reach for any possible weapon, blindly fumbling around behind me until I unearth a cold metal object. As I try to get ahold of it, the object rolls away from my grip.

I can see more zombies now; the one that was snacking on my leg apparently brought friends. Hungry friends that want to devour me. The fiends limp toward me only slightly faster than a tortoise crawls. Ignoring the horrendous pain in my leg, I shuffle myself backwards, as quickly as I'm physically able. A glint of silver catches my eye. I reach for it, grasping the nearest part of it with all the strength in my hand. I quickly recoil; the flesh in my hand has been sliced to the bone. Black spots dance in my eyes as I stare at the atrocities around me. A zombie has hold of my foot. I can't stay awake any longer.

Darkness.

I'm being dragged along on a sled by Mom up a snowy hill. The cold sunlight glints across her dark chocolate hair as she giggles at me like a little girl. She's wearing her favorite red earmuffs; my dad gave them to her for Christmas. The powder blue sky seems to take over the landscape. 

Mom points at a snowman. "Mouse," she tells me.

That's ridiculous. That's not a mouse. It's a snowman. I try to tell her this, but for some reason the words won't come.

She persists. "Mouse. Look at the mouse".

It's not a mouse!

Shortly after I find that I've tumbled off the sled. I'm rolling down, down, down the hill, crashing to the ground. I feel a horrific burning pain in my legs, chest, hands.

"Mouse!" my mother is calling down from the top of the hill. "Mouse"!

"Mouse!" A young man is slapping my cheek with his fingers. Alarmed, I try to speak but find that I can't move; the slightest motion sends torrents of pain shooting through my entire being. There's a pounding in my head so fierce that I'm forced to keep my eyes closed. Ice drips down my forehead, causing me to shiver despite being pinned down by many layers of blankets. I open my eyes again to look at the stranger, before a throb of agony blurs my vision and forces me to close them. Before I can think anymore, I'm out cold.

It's a week until I fully awake to an antagonizing pain in my leg and hand. Where am I? I painstakingly push myself out of the den of blankets, much to my discomfort, and take in the area surrounding me. The grocery store? What am I doing here? Suddenly memories of being eaten alive come back, and I'm on high alert in a second. They were eating me. It bit my leg. My leg.

I glance down at the stump where my leg once resided.  Where the hell is my leg!?!? I scoot myself against the wall behind me as I try to breathe. The effort it takes to move myself causes black spots to dance in my eyes. I need to breathe, or I'm going to faint. Taking a deep breath, I assess my situation. I don't have a leg. If I want to be able to walk, I'm going to need assistance. Crutches. How am I going to get crutches?

Before I can get answers to my questions,  a young man, somewhere in his twenties, walks out from behind a shelf. An expression of relief crosses his face.

"Oh, you finally woke up," his soft voice sounds tired. I have no sympathy. 

"What the fuck did you do with my leg"?!?

"You got bitten. I had to amputate it. Otherwise..." he covers his face with his hands and breathes out deeply.

"What? Otherwise what?!" the excitement is making me slightly dizzy again.

"When zombie venom, saliva, whatever, gets into the bloodstream, it has the potential to transform the organism into a zombie too. Good thing I reached you in time, when only your leg was infected. I had to amputate it, but at least you survived". The full effect of what this guy did dawns on me.

"I guess I should probably thank you for saving me. I'm F-"

"Mouse, I know. Your friend told me. I'm Campbell Mckenzie. You can just call me Campbell, though," he says, smiling faintly.

"Wait- how am I going to walk? And how do you know how to chop my leg off without killing me"?

"Went to medical school before the sickness spread. I carry my medical kit everywhere. Ya never know when you'll need it. Oh, thanks for reminding me. Here, I found a few canes in a house nearby. You can pick a few out," he holds out a thin barrel filled with various canes.

"Couldn't you give me a peg leg or something"?

"If I'd only had to amputate below the knee then I would've been able to give you a fake leg. But if I gave you a peg leg now then you wouldn't be able to walk correctly".

"I can't walk correctly anyway".

"It would be like walking without being able to bend your knee. Just use those canes for now. Maybe if we ever find something we could give you an artificial leg".

I ponder this sulkily as he is leaving. "One sec, before you go. You know Biebe"?

He knits his eyebrows together. "Biebe? No, I don't know anyone named Biebe. I found this girl who claims she's your friend down by the warehouse after I brought you here. She helped bring over these blankets," he points towards the dead heap in front of me "and she helped me fight off those monsters". Campbell heads toward the warehouse, leaving me with my thoughts.

So Biebe helped save me. That's what it looks like, at least. I suddenly feel bad for being so horrible to her at the garage. Why would she want to help me? Last I checked, she wanted me to get eaten by zombies. I'd never done anything for her. 

Unless she only helped me to get protection from Campbell. She doesn't really care about me; she just wants Campbell to help her survive. He does think we're a team now. 

I know I shouldn't be so hard on Biebe. She is only 9, after all. I was probably the same way when I was her age. But something about her strikes me as a little off. And I'm determined to find out what, no matter the consequences.