Ten years ago Pandora Avery was deemed criminally insane by the state of Alabama and sent to an asylum in Georgia. But when the dead begin to rise Pandora manages to escape her concrete prison, soon meeting a rude stranger handcuffed to the roof. Su...
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It had been two weeks since I escaped my concrete Hell and during those long two weeks one thing became redundantly clear by the stilled highways and lack of living people: The world had ended.
Though I felt ended may have been a bit of an exaggeration because the only thing that truly seemed to have ended was humanity. And I felt like the earth would continue to thrive long after we were gone, it wouldn't stop just because man did.
After leaving the hospital I was lucky enough to avoid all close run-ins with the walking corpses for a few days, but on the third day my luck had run out.
I had found an old cabin about forty miles outside of Atlanta and driven by hunger and the need to get out of my grimy clothes I went to investigate. After checking all the doors for an unlocked entry I was thrilled when the old window above the sink creaked open invitingly. When I finally entered the cabin I couldn't ignore the stench. An aroma that brought back to many painful memories. Both happy and sad.
As I made my way from the kitchen into a small walkway I was able to pinpoint the smell from behind a closed door. After taking a few deep breaths I flung the door open and was welcomed by the decomposing body of a man not much older then myself.
Still having the gun I stole from Phil I lifted it up and shot the man in the chest. Instead of dropping like I had expected, the corpse continued to advance on me. The left side of its face seemed to dangle from a few strands of attached skin and it swayed with the motion of the creature snapping its jaws in my direction, a low moan rumbling within it.
I aimed the gun again shooting the man in the leg and this time it did stumble slightly but it still managed to limp towards me. Once more I raised the gun but nothing happened when I pulled the trigger. I let out an aggravated groan.
I was out of bullets.
"Fuck!" I yelled, slightly panicking. But decided that yelling wasn't going to solve my problem and tried to focus on the situation at hand.
The corpse reached me, its teeth snapping dangerously close to my face and its long arms reaching out to pull me in. I pushed against its face with my hand almost in awe at the way its skin seemed to melt against my own like wax. Don't let it bite you. Infections can spread through saliva, a voiceinside my head warned.
I used my foot to push the man back and changed the position of the gun so the barrel was in my hand and the handle was sticking out. Then with as much force as I could manage I began to smack the man over the head. The sickening sound of crushing skull amping my aggression and long after the corpse stopped moving I hacked away, blood and tissue spraying my face. I had to stop myself from licking the contaminated blood from my lips.
After the threat was eliminated I explored the cabin hoping to find something useful. I ended up finding and eating a can of chicken noodle soup, which I had hated as a kid but was surprised by how thrilled my tastebuds were as I shoveled spoon fulls into my mouth. I was also blessed with a pair of too-big jeans and large white t-shirt that was hung neatly in the closet. Sadly, all the shoes were to big for my petite feet.
