In the months since the outbreak, Charlie Mills had seen just about every horrific thing you could possibly imagine. He watched as his wife was torn from his hands. He saw friends kill their own family members. He saw others kill themselves because they couldn’t take it anymore. He became numb to it all.
Charlie found refuge with six dozen others outside Scranton, Pennsylvania. The first months since the panic were not pleasant for Charlie’s group. Each week their numbers would shrink while the monster’s grew.
It was mid-February, and there were now only seven left. Food was scarce. Heat was non-existent. The only consolation prize was that as they sat there freezing, Zack was too.
Before the winter, there was talk of a safe zone near Syracuse. They had even found a small plane and a pilot that was willing to make the trip. There was hope. On the morning of the first planned flight, word came down that Syracuse was overrun. They stayed in Scranton. They died.
Continue reading ‘The Repercussions of Choices’
We used to talk around the fires. Anything to alleviate the boredom, to pass the time. Old TV shows, old romances, old cars, old adventures. It was a way of bonding, a way of getting to know the guy that was going to be standing next to you on the lines the next day, a way to remember we had things in common, a way to keep from going insane.
I remember one game people used to play to start debates: Would You Rather. You were given a choice between two equally unpleasant outcomes, and you had to decide which one you would choose. Would you rather lose a leg or your ZED arm? Would you rather work night watch in June when the zombies were moaning or December when the wind was blowing? It went on and on. Hours of pseudo-fun until we’d trudge back to our cots.
The one I remember now was “Would you rather be bitten by someone you knew or a stranger?” The debate went on and on. I said that I’d rather be taken out by someone I knew. There’d be some solace in that. All I ever saw out there were strangers. Syracuse was just too big. I just didn’t know enough people. They were all strangers to me.
I wasn’t like some of the people around who would brag about how they killed their ex-bosses or the lawyer who put them into or couldn’t keep them out of jail. I didn’t choke up like some people who had to talk about what they did to their spouses. I didn’t randomly run into buddies from down at the bar or ex-girlfriends. I just never saw anyone I knew.
Continue reading ‘It’s a Small World After All’
Everyone sees it as damnation. “How could this happen?”, they say, “What did I do to deserve this?” Oh yes, they will say I, because in these times no one person considers another. I however see it differently. The bills were piling up, the jobs were getting cut faster than checks at the banks, the kids were always hungry and the wife was always, always bitching, engaging in never-ending nagging about SOMETHING was her specialty. “The food’s too hot, the food’s too cold, the diamond isn’t big enough, this isn’t the shade of white I wanted for the wallpaper…” A man has his limits, ya know?
Continue reading ‘Fed Up’
“An Old Friend” by Chris Sinclair
Read by Chris Sinclair
Music by Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Right-click to download.
Meaker awoke from another dream.
“Did you have the same dream?” Slater said while sitting next to him. Both had a heavy coating of mud on their uniforms, the retreat from Yonkers had gone bad resulting in the two cut off from the rest of the unit.,All of whom were now dead or dying.
“No, this one was different.” He got up and slapped the bolt release on his M-4 after loading a fresh mag.
“Meaker, last night I caught someone trying to steal the sraps from our MRE’s.”Slater said.
“What do you want me to execute him?” Meaker said rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“No, but he looks like you so I thought you would like to see.”
Meaker stood ad brought himself to the locked closet at the far side of the room, as meaker walked into the room he looked at the man sitting in the corner of the room.
He walked into the small room, lit up only by a lantern on a small bathroom matt. Meaker stared at the man for a moment before his eyes widened.
“Oh my god.”
Continue reading ‘Contrast’
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