• Chapter 1- The Begging of the End.

    My plan to survive this mess? Well I’m headed for the police station, hopefully there is a working phone or radio there I can use to call for help. The station was only a mile away, not a long way to walk considering my first plan. (To die here.) But of course nothing for me can be ‘easy’ anymore. So I took the pistol and 6 ammo clips with me. If I run out of ammo, I’ll just find something to through at them. (Maybe rocks?) Not much of a plan, but of course, desperate times call for desperate measures.

    I thought these ‘zombie’ things where supposed to be slow, but these zombies run. Faster than me! Of course being probably the only human smart enough to grab a gun and start shooting these assholes, I will not complain. The police station is only a few more blocks down. That means this mess will soon be over! (Well, for me.) There was a loud scream then. It sounded like a cheetah pouncing on it’s prey. I wonder if I was the prey for the zombies.

    The sound was getting closer as I inched down the street. Suddenly I heard the sound louder and clearer than ever before. “Watch it!” Someone called out. I turned around to see a zombie on the floor. It was on its hands like a gorilla would do. The zombie was wearing a black hoodie, common in New York. I pointed my pistol at its head and BAM! He was down. Not my hand through, I didn’t even get to pull the The sound was getting closer as I inched down the street. Suddenly I heard the sound louder and clearer than ever before. “Watch it!” Someone called out. I turned around to see a zombie on the floor. It was on its hands like a gorilla would do. The zombie was wearing a black hoodie, common in New York. I pointed my pistol at its head and BAM! He was down. Not my hand through, I didn’t even get to pull the trigger. “You’ll need to be faster than that if you’re going to survive.” I heard that voice again. I turned around to see a man in a black pinned suit. His suit pocket held a little blue cloth.

    He is covered in blood. Probably from him and the zombies. His hair looked like he was a greaser from back in the 60’s. He noticed I was studying him, “What?” He asked me. “Who are you?” I asked him without answering his first question. He smirked. “The name’s David, call me Dave.” He said.