Hair stops growing after you die I suppose.
Also I finished my story, so I guess I'll post it here.
I'm not forcing any of you to read this, I'd rather you guys not read it because it's so bad. It's a generic zombie outbreak story, cut and dry. But, it's you're decision. It gets slightly better half way through though, I promise.
John Crembaw awoke to the light of the sun glistening between the shutters of the window adjacent to his bed. Yawning, he threw his blankets to the floor, stood up, and stretched. Today was Saturday, and Saturday was the day John always reserved for his hunting trips. A retired pencil pusher, he had always appreciated the break from the monotonous number-crunching and paper filing. He loved the outdoors, the fresh air, and the dew in the morning.
John was the epitome of the burly outdoorsman. An imposing fellow with a brisk countenance, a firm physique, and sinewy hands, most people were surprised to learn that he was almost 3 months away from his 60th birthday. He was single, and happy to be so. Women, he said, simply weighted a man down.
Crossing over to his closet, John selected a pair of white-washed blue jeans, a cameo fur jacket, and his trusty leather boots that had been with him for nearly 20 years. Upon dressing, he swiped his keychain wallet that contained his hunting license and went downstairs to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast.
Listening to his eggs sizzling in the pan, John grabbed the television remote from the kitchen table and turned on the T.V. A loud hissing noise greeted his ears as the television displayed nothing but static. John furrowed his brow as he realized that he must have forgotten to pay the cable bill last month. “Oh well,” he thought. “I enjoy reading the paper more than Television anyway”.
John’s postman, an amiable fellow, was always kind enough to take the morning paper with him when he went to drop John’s mail in through the mail slot in the door. However, when John, got to the door, he was greeted by simply his plain welcome mat. Not a scrap of paper rested at the foot of the entryway. John, slightly deterred by the absence of his mail, more so the absence of his postman, began to wonder just what had happened to his friend, when the popping and crackling of his eggs focused his mind. “Nothing that can’t wait ‘till after my trip,” he thought.
Finishing his breakfast, John advanced to his fireplace, where on the mantle rested his prized possession. A pump action Remington 870, custom made to his preferences, John never went on a trip without it. Resting next to the gun was a box of buckshot shells a sling which could be attached to the gun for ease of use, and a hunting knife. John grabbed all four items, stashing the shells in his jacket pocket, clipping the knife to his belt, and slung the gun around his back.
As John walked towards the door he wondered which forest he would visit on today’s trip. “Maybe Flagler,” he thought, reaching forward to unlock his front door. “Of course, Pineridge Park always has nice, big deer this time of year.” He turned the lock to one side, and covered the doorknob with one meaty hand.
“Ofcourse there’s always-,” John opened the door, and his mind froze at the terror. The street was strewn with overturned cars, dirt, grass, all manner of debris. Several street lambs had been knocked down, pavement overturned, gravel blanketing the grass. The house in front of John had several windows knocked out, clearly done from the inside, as he could see the glass lying in the flowerbeds in front of the windows. A crimson, ichorous liquid was oozing from the gutters in the street.
John could scarcely believe his eyes. He cautiously inched forward, left foot, right foot, taking in his surroundings. It looked like a tornado had just blown through, but John didn’t remember a weather warning on the news last night…
Suddenly, John caught a sporadic movement in of the corner of his eye! He swirled around to face this possible threat-only to find his next door neighbor, Barry, walking out of his house with a rather large knapsack. He had an old style revolver like the kind you would find in history books in a holster on his waist. John heaved a sigh of relief, realizing that there was still someone alive who might have the slighted clue as to what was going on.
By this time, Barry noticed John, and was walking over to greet him. Barry took his neighbors hand in his and said “John, how you doin’, buddy?” John, slightly disturbed by his friends optimistic manner in a time of crisis, replied “Trying to figure out what happened. Barry, what’s with this destruction? I go to sleep and wake up to hell unleashed!”
“Well John, I don’t know for certain, but apparently the Army’s set up some command posts on the east side of town, and everyone’s suppose to report there.” replied Barry, frowning. “I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking some animals escaped from the zoo or something.”
John spat on the ground as he and Barry started to walk down the road. “Animals don’t rip up pavement, Barry.” he said, grimly.
The midday sun shone down on the two travelers as they trudged eastward. John was bothered by the fact that there seemed to be no living people on their route. There were often bloated cadavers, covered in what appeared to be bite marks, but not a living soul anywhere. The corpses were fixed in haunting positions that suggested an intense struggle between predator and prey had occurred.
John shivered involuntarily as he glanced at the bodies. His curiosity grew with each carcass he saw. “Just what happened here?” he thought? “What?!”
John and Barry passed into East Downtown around 3 PM, a densely populated area that was notorious for it’s crime ridden streets. But they found the same sights as they had in their home neighborhood, abandoned cars, death, destruction…but not a living soul in sight.
Around 5:30, John saw it. The army Hummer was parked about 100 yards away next to an abandoned grocery store. John saw it too and the two men, overcome with happiness, raced to the grocery store hoping to find a soldier or two to aid them.
The grocery store was dimly lit, the only light source coming from the sun outside. The aisles had already been ransacked of any useful supplies, the cash registers emptied, even the vending machines had been smashed open. The two men proceeded stealthily, lest they disturbed the buildings denizens.
Weapons drawn, they were tip-toeing past what was left of the ravaged dairy aisle when John heard a “Tap, tap, tap,” coming from the other side of the wall. He signaled to Barry his intent to investigate, and together they advanced to the store room, which was just down the aisle. As they got nearer and nearer to the door to the store room, John heard the tapping getting audibly louder, and he could even begin to make out voice. When they got to the door, John pressed his back to the left side, Barry to the right. John mouthed to Barry that they would open the door and go in on a count of three.
John mouthed “One…” His hand gripped the door knob.
“Two…” He twisted the knob slightly.
John eyed Barry, who gave his consent to continue.
The door burst open with a rush of motion. John whipped his hand out of the way just in time, and took a few steps back. Barry mimicked John, and jumped behind a pile of crates. John leaped behind a large poster board advertisement for peas just as two figures emerged from the portal.
John watched the two figures from his hiding spot. They were both dressed in army uniform, and were obviously high rank. John was about to stand up and start talking with them when the taller mustached man started to talk.
“So you’re sure that all civilians in this area have been exterminated?” he said.
The shorter man, obviously of a subordinate rank to the mustached man, replied “Yes sir, most of the civilians who were accounted for have been killed to prevent the spread of the virus. Unfortunately, a large number are missing. To ensure that any who were infected are destroyed, the city will be bombed at midnight.”
The superior officer grinned grimly. “Good, then this whole dirty business will finally be done with!”
John could not believe his ears. “The army had set a trap for us all a long,” he thought. Across from him, he could see Barry mulling over the exchange that they both had just heard as well.
The two soldiers eventually exited the store. John and Barry reconvened to decide on a course of action. Both men knew the implications of the soldiers’ conversation, both men knew that they could be dead by midnight. It was John who spoke first:
“Well, the was I see it, we have two options. We could either try and escape the city within-” John glanced at a clock that was hanging on the wall which read 6:30, “5 hours, or we could try and survive the bombs by hiding out in the subway station.”
Barry sighed. “I say we try and escape the city. If the government decides to drop a nuclear warhead, then we have no way of surviving it in a subway!”
John nodded, and cocked his weapon. “Right then. It’s almost dark now, and we’ll have to be on the lookout for any soldiers still stalking around.”
Barry stood up and headed towards the exit. John followed suit, but not before grabbing a flashlight on the way out.
The Hummer was gone when John and Barry exited the grocery store. Darkness was slowly filling the street as the sun set. The electricity to the entire area had been knocked out, preventing the street lamps from working, so John switched on his flashlight. “The roads are ripped up so badly our best bet is to try and make it on foot.” he said. Barry looked north. “City limits are about 10 miles north of here.” Barry replied. “If we high-tail it, we just might make it before the bombs start to fall.”
And thus the comrades walked. John occasionally shone his flashlight into the black void that constantly surrounded them, to get a glimpse of their surroundings. More than a few times, John swore that he could have seen amorphous forms moving about in the darkness, but it was probably just rats. Yeah, just rats. The city had been having a rat problem lately…
They came to a stop to rest for a spell at a local fast food joint. When John passed through the doors, he was disgusted by the foul odor that overwhelmed his nose. He passed his flashlight over the cash registers and found them covered in blood. He turned to Barry, “I don’t like this place, it reeks of death. We shouldn’t stay here long. Besides, we still have a few more miles to go before we get out of the city.”
John set his gun down on a nearby chair and sat down adjacent to it. Barry sat down, and John started to think that escape was impossible, death imminent, and hope lost-CRASH!
John whipped his head around. Something had moved in the kitchen behind the cash registers. John reached for his weapon, but Barry stopped him with a wave of his hand. “I’ll check it out,” he said, revolver drawn. Barry grabbed John’s flashlight and walked into the kitchens, where the darkness enveloped him.
John waited…and waited. He was quickly growing inpatient with Barry, and ,grabbing his gun, calmly started over to the kitchen to see what was taking his friend so long. He had taken not three steps before a screeching cry of terror emitted from the darkness.
John bounded over the counter and found a black figure hunched over Barry. The figure startled at Johns appearance and turned to face him. By the light of the dropped flashlight, John could see bits and pieces of Barry’s ragged flesh wedged between the creature’s teeth. It’s skin was a pasty, grey color, and it looked like it was rotting right off the bones, it’s neck was covered in bloody bite marks, it’s hands were drenched in blood, and were more claw-like and animalish, than human. But what was worst of all was the eyes; the creature had milky orbs that lacked any trace of what might have been pupils.
The creature stretched a bloodied claw out towards John, but BANG!, quick as lighting, John had already discharged a shell into the creature’s brain. It collapsed to the ground, dead.
John picked up the flashlight and shone it on Barry. His friend had suffered a rather large bite wound on the forearm, and blood was profusely flowing from the wound. Barry himself was barely conscious. John had to act quickly to save himself and his friend. He quickly loosed his belt and tied it to Barry’s forearm, to stop the blood. He then got a large cup and started to slash water from a nearby sink on Barry’s face to keep him awake. Barry came to with a yelp.
“Ok, John, I’m up! You can stop!” said Barry. John helped his friend get up. “Can you walk fine, or am I going to have to carry you?” Barry looked down at his legs and brushed off the dust and gore. “I’m fine. I feel a big nauseous, but considering what just happened, that’s expected.” He picked up his supplies. “How long do we have?” John took a look at the clock in the kitchen. He frowned. “About 2 and a half hours. We’d better get moving. And keep an eye out for anymore of those..things.” John reloaded his gun and stepped outside the store, with Barry trailing behind him.
They wasted no time getting to the main highway, which lead directly out of the city. They were nearly there, only a maze of unattended cars impeded their path. But even that obstacle was easily overcome.
But when they finally came to the end of the road, something big was blocking their path. Something big and numerous. John couldn’t quite see what it was in the darkness, but it was moving whatever it was.
John and Barry got closer to the dark, bubbling mass, and John realized it was people. Or…it looked like people. He shown his flashlight on them. They had heads, bodies, han-claws. They had claws. Bloodied claws. John froze in horror. He was so horrified that he forgot to switch off his flashlight. Once creature, dressed in a business suit, turned it’s head toward John.
“Turn off that light!” hissed Barry.
John was petrified. He couldn’t even move if he wanted too. The blood…oh God. He had seen blood while hunting, but that was animal blood. This…this was too much.
“John!” Barry’s expression was one of unconceivable horror. He was also beginning to cough noticeably, and sweat.
By this point, most of the creatures were aware of the two humans standing on the road above them, and were moving towards them. John snapped out of his trance and looked around for an escape from the oncoming horde. There was no way that the two of them had enough ammo to take down the swarm.
Things were looking grim, when there! An entrance to the subway tunnel! It was relatively obstacle free. Barry saw it too, and was already beginning to run towards it. John followed Barry, and dashed down the un-powered escalator into the dark abyss.
John and Barry walked down the subway tunnels along the tracks. They had escaped the creatures, but they had walked on in fear of being pounced on from behind by their pursuers. John noticed that Barry was now sweating heavily, and he had started to cough, and couldn’t stop. His eyes were blood red and his skin had turned pale, almost like chalk. John sat his friend down.
“Barry, you look like you could use some rest.” he said. Barry grimaced. “Oh, geez John, I can’t keep this up anymore. My arm’s still throbbing from where that…thing bit me, and I-” he paused to cough some more, “My vision’s gone all blurry. I just can’t make it.” Barry tried to stand, but promptly feel on his face. John sighed. They could afford a little rest. They had defiantly earned it. It was probably about 30 minutes before the bombs started falling anyway, and they were fairly safe, they had to be at least 200 feet underground. John propped his friend up and sighed, wishing that he could go hunting when it was all over.
20 minutes ‘till the bombs fell, John noticed that Barry wasn’t coughing anymore. In fact, he hadn’t been for the past 10 minutes or so. John turned to look at his friend, perhaps he was well enough to travel again-
Barry’s eyes were rolled up in his head. His tongue hand limp outside of his mouth. His skin was icy to the touch.
Barry was dead.
John couldn’t believe his eyes. Immediately, he thought of blood loss, but no, the bite wound hadn’t been bleeding for an hour or so. John’s eyes scanned the immobile form of his deceased friend. He sighed, and got up to leave when he felt a pressure on his shoulder. Perhaps it was a rat, he thought. Or a- a hand.
John turned and saw that Barry was getting up. John smiled, his friend was alright after all! His friend-
Had claws instead of hands. His eyes were milky orbs, his skin rotting, his mouth open and his teeth sharp as knives. Before John could do anything, the creature had sunk it’s teeth into John’s shoulder, burrowing deep into the flesh.
John did the only thing he could do. He drew his shotgun, cocked it, and shot what was left of Barry. His friends body fell down in a puddle of mud.
But John wasn’t able to grieve for his friend yet. In the confusion of the fight, he had not noticed the horde of creatures that had been advancing on his position. John nearly fell to his knees in fear, but merely trembled as his brought his shotgun to bear, aimed, and fired.
John rammed the door to the men’s room in the subway tunnels. He was furiously coughing now, his vision began to blur as well. He looked in the mirror and that saw his eyes had turned bloodshot red and his skin had turned a pale, chalky color. He recalled the symptoms that Barry had experienced before dying. John stumbled backwards into one of the stalls. He closed the door, locked it, and sat down on the toilet. There, John Crembaw waited for the inventible.