A World Full Of Zombies

-Addy

Bang! The gun sounds off with a sickening boom, and the body drops down. Dead forever. It’s skin is decaying, rotted, and you can see some of it’s bone poking out. I stare down at the once-human-now-zombie. Unlike in those scary movies I watched when I was little, all zombies skins are just the same as they were alive. Expect their ripped up and bleeding and dead. Dead and still moving, walking, seeking more people to kill. I kick the corpse with my foot, and it rolls to the side. It’s dead alright. I kneel down and loop my fingers around the bag it was carrying. It’s contains some moldy food and a few cartages of bullets. I take the bullets and step over the body, moving on. I’ve been alone for about 10 years now, before the apocalypse had even started. I’m 17 years old now, which means I was exactly 7 years old when my parents died and I was forced to fend for myself. I’ve lived with that for years. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts before loading my gun. I move along the abandoned road, looking at each house carefully before picking the least broken one and heading in there.

The front door opens with a creek and I shut it behind me. Something lunches at me in the dim light of this house and my guns gets thrown aside. The thing is on top of my and I struggle trying to escape it’s grasp. A gun goes to my temple and my eyes widen as I realize that the thing is human. A real human. Alive. “Get! Off of me!” I grunt, trying to push them off.

“How can a zombie talk? God!” A boys voice snaps angrily.

“I’m human you idiot!” I struggle and he pulls his face closer to mine, staring down at me with his green eyes. I glare back at him, resisting the urge to punch him right in the face.

He grabs my wrist roughly and feels for my pulse. He presses on it hard and I yelp, my heart beat quickening. He releases my hand and pulls back his gun, but doesn’t let me get up. “Why. Did you pick this house?” He hisses.

“Bloody hell. This was the only one that wasn’t as banged up as the others! You think I want to die?! Now get off me!” I shove him back and he returns the gun to my temple. I smirk.

“You going to shoot me? Then I become a zombie. Wouldn’t that be fun? And as we all know, one zombie attracts many zombies.” He glares at me, his lip twitching in anger. He puts his gun away and I slip back, away from him.

“What do you want?”

“A place to sleep.”

“Go find one.”

“I have.”

“No. This is my den and I-”

“Will let me stay or I will shoot myself and then you’ll have a zombie running round your so called ‘den.’ Wouldn’t that be fun?” He huffs and growls, running a hand over his face.

“Fine. Fine. You can stay. But you supply your own food.”

“Guess I’ll starve.” I stand up and he gets to his feet.

“Fine. I’ll feed you, but we have to work as a team.”

“Whatever.” He turns and signals with his hand for me to follow him. I pick up my gun, and place it in my belt. It hangs loosely next to my knife. I follow the boy into the kitchen and spot all the blood stained onto the tiles. “You killed someone?”

“No. I was injured. That’s from last month. It won’t come out.” He replies, ruffling through the cupboards for food. He tosses a can of food in my direction and I catch it. He chuckles. “Good luck with that. I don’t have a can opener, and neither does anyone in this town.” I dig my hand into my pocket and pull out my can opener and begin opening the can of cold soup. The boy turns around and stares at me in shock. “How did you-”

“I stole it. You have a can for yourself?” he hands me another can and I open it before passing it over to him. He sips the cold soup cautiously while I just drink mine, hungrily. It’s a nice soup really, one I used to enjoy when I was little. But then again, I used to have it warmed up and share it with my parents. But their dead. Nothing I can do will bring them back. I toss the can into the bin and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. The boy finishes his soup and does the same as me. I look up at him. He’s quite tall, chestnut hair which has been clumsily cut. He looks about a year old then me, maybe two. He has dark green eyes and little to no freckles.

“What?” He asks, and I realize I’ve been staring.

“Haven’t seen a real human for a year.” He nods his head either in agreement or understanding.

“You have pretty eyes.” He states, plainly.

“Oh, thanks I guess.” Their dark blue. A rare but pretty colour. But I don’t care. To a zombie, I just need to die or become one of them.

“What are you doing out here anyway?′ he runs a hand through his hair, sliding it out of his eyes.

“I needed to move. They have bigger numbers.” He nods.

“I know. They’re all over here. And the guards..”

“What guards?” I had no idea the guards were still out there.

“The guards. The people who come and take the humans away. Experiment on them?′

" I didn’t know that-” There’s a loud knock on the door and the boy springs into action, scooping up a bag and tossing all his food into it and all his weapons. I stare at him confused until he grabs my wrist, looking dead into my eyes. “Get your things. We need to leave. Now.”