Zombie Story Rought Draft

1

            The sun began to rise above the trees, creating a warm glow in the quiet warehouse where there lay a man; a man who was just looking to visit his father in upstate New York. Frank Smith awoke with a look of pure exhaustion and mental pain.  It’s not easy sleeping after what just happened the day before.

            Everything was going fine. An attempt to drive through New York City didn’t work out so well. About two hours before his arrival, the United States government declared a state of emergency as a deadly infection began to grow in the Northeast. It turned people into mindless lunatics, AKA: zombies. When infected, it wasn’t long before your body shut down, waking up hours later without any thoughts or soul; only the desire to seek out food and attack any living creature.

            The city grew into a mosh-pit, as people fought each other over food supplies and other items, before packing up with their families and fleeing. Frank was caught right in the middle of it, not being able to drive through the traffic. He ditched the car, and ran outside the city, taking shelter in a warehouse. He made sure to lock it up well, and not let anyone else in. He couldn’t take the risk of getting infected.

            Frank didn’t sleep well, maybe only getting an hour or so of real rest. He wasn’t sure what to expect of the next morning. When he awoke, he scavenged through the warehouse, finding large boxes full of soda. As he dug deeper, packages of crackers revealed themselves. He didn’t have much of an appetite because of fear just leaving him mostly motionless. He ate in silence, just wondering what outside the warehouse was like, and what had become of the city. Frank wasn’t sure whether he should flee to somewhere safer, or stay put not knowing how many undead monsters might be feasting out there.

            Eventually after sitting motionless for an hour, Frank decided to look around and see what he could find. Hidden in a corner was a small little tube television, plugged into a cable outlet behind it. He motioned his hand toward the power button, and used what force he could to turn it on. The T.V. was already on the news, and he couldn’t believe what he saw. The government was continuing to issue warnings for people to leave the cities. Many were infected, and would eventually wake up sometime today as mindless zombies. Air footage was shown of places like Providence, Pittsburgh, and even New York City which was just outside the building Frank was taking shelter in. The footage was mostly silent. A zombie was seen here and there, but most were left motionless, waiting to awake later on in the day with no thoughts or heart. They would attack any living thing, which would turn them into a zombie.

            Frank had to act fast; he had to leave now before all of those monsters woke up. He searched around the room for anything to keep him safe. Frank Smith had fought in Afghanistan for almost two years. He wasn’t sure how his military training paid off, and if it could save him from a zombie apocalypse.

            Eventually he found a beat up crow bar, and some bolt cutters, which he knew would help him with his survival. Frank came across a large backpack in a corner of the room, and stored the bolt cutters for later. He armed himself for whatever he might find outside. Frank unlocked the large garage door, and threw it open, shocked at what he saw.

2

            Yes, there were the dead on the streets, awaiting their return to life as an undead zombie. However, there were other people just like him. They scavenged every store the could before the undead rose up and attacked the living. Hundreds of people smashed store windows, later returning with bags full of supplies and weapons. Buildings were burnt as riots broke out, and people fought each other over the last can of soup, or the last baseball bat at the sporting goods store.

            Frank joined in on the violent looting, coming away from it with a backpack full of bandages, baked beans, soda, matches, soup, and a small hockey stick poking out of the opening in the bag. He knew he couldn’t return to the warehouse and lock himself up in a death trap. He had to leave the city, before thousands of zombies rose from their quiet sleep.

            He darted through the city as his bag swung side to side with every step. He ran through the alleys in order to avoid the mobs of violent people on the main road.

            After an hour of non-stop running, Frank stopped as he had left the city. He was still close, with massive skyscrapers poking through the clouds in the background. He was in a fairly small town now, with local restaurants and general stores left untouched. When people heard of a nearing zombie apocalypse, they just panicked and left. No store windows were smashes, and hardly anything was stolen.

            Frank made his way down the road, with crowbar in hand, and a bag on his back. He moved into a nearby general store, locking the door behind him. He figured it was a safe place to stay for a while, but he had to board-up the windows for safety. As he searched in the back room, he found multiple wooden storage crates. He savored the nails, and found a small doorway in the dark corner. It hid well, camouflaging with the gray walls. He turned the knob, slowly opening the unknown.

            There sat a staircase; a pathway to the second floor. As he ventured up, he was pleased with what he saw: a couch, small television, refrigerator, and everything he needed to have a small, comfortable home. Two small windows let light brighten the upstairs. There were, of course, lights in the ceiling as well, but it wouldn’t be long before the electricity gets shut off due to the zombie infection.

            Frank quickly dashed toward the sink, turning the ‘hot’ and ‘cold’ knobs. A smile sprang from his face as the feel of hot water made him feel a little better about the near future. He splashed the water on his face; somewhat hoping it would wake him from this nightmare. Frank rummaged through his bag, grabbing at a bottle of soda. He poured it down the drain, and began filling it with water. It wasn’t as satisfying as cold bottled water, but the one thing everybody stole was fresh water from the stores before their panic made them flee.

            In preparation for the night, Frank knew he had to board-up the windows. Those wooden planks from the storage crates wouldn’t be enough. He left the store, taking his bag of supplies with him.

            He slowly walked down the road, until he found something that seemed too good to be true. A huge white pickup truck just sat there on the side of the road, staring him in the eyes as he approached. He walked up to it steadily, inspecting the massive tires, and steel brush guard on the front. He attempted to open the doors; of course it was locked. He could just break the window, but the possibility of the alarm going off was really risky. For all he knew, it might be someone’s truck who is in the store right next to him. He did it anyways. He pulled his arm back with the crowbar, and smashed the truck windows. It took a couple swings, but eventually they shattered into a thousand pieces. There was no alarm. Frank reached his arm through, and unlocked the doors. As he crawled in, he noticed something perfect. The key was in the ignition. It’s as if someone left it there on purpose, leaving it behind for him. No alarm, keys in the truck. It was too perfect. Or maybe someone just ditched it, choosing to move on foot and take shelter in a nearby store, deciding never to return to the four-wheel drive beast.

            Frank turned the key, as the engine roared, as if it was showing off its strength and dominance of the road. The gas gauge needle barely moved from empty. He prayed it had enough gas to drive away. Frank put the car in ‘drive’ and slowly crawled down the road in order to not waste any gasoline. He saw signs for a gas station down the road, and eventually reached his destination a couple of minutes later. After filling the truck with gas, he ventured into the small store there, looking for gas containers that he could use later. As he put his hand on the door, he saw something move in the background. Frank slowly opened the door, preparing his crowbar for what was to come. A man showed himself from behind the counter, holding a 12-gauge shotgun. He was a large African-American man in a police uniform. He lowered the gun, with a look of relief on his face. “Don’t be sneakin’ up on me man. I thought you were one of those flesh eating freaks.” His voice was loud and booming, as if being fired from a cannon.

            Frank looked relieved as well. “Sorry. I thought the same thing when I saw something movin’. The name’s Frank.”

            “I’m Chris. I was just looking around for some food and water.”

           

            “Don’t waste your time doing that! I got plenty. I can take you to a small store in town that I set-up at.”

            “I don’t know. I ditched my truck there yesterday ‘cus everyone was panicking and leaving. You sure there are no zombies there?”

            “Not that I’ve seen. And what type of truck was it?”

            “Big white truck, massive tires, brush guard. Almost out of gas though. I couldn’t risk sitting in traffic while people were freaking out, so I got out and ran. Spent the night here.”

            “I found it. I got your truck outside. I came here for gas. I gotta find some gas cans. Let’s find some. I can take you back to where I’m staying. Gotta find some wood and nails to board up the windows though.”

            “My baby! So glad my truck’s back! I got some 2X4s here along with nails. I found them at a hardware store earlier and figured they’d come in handy.”

            Frank and Chris found eight gas cans, and filled them all up. They hopped in the truck and drove toward the general store. Chris chose to let Frank have the truck since he was giving him food and water. When they arrived, they immediately boarded up the windows, and locked the door behind them as they entered the store.

            Chris was amazed by the rows of snacks, candy, jerky, and canned food. The refrigerators were full of soda, juice, and milk, with all of the spring water missing.

            Frank walked over and tapped him on the back. “It’s all yours,” he said. “You can stay here if you want. We got enough food and drinks to last a while. The upstairs has blankets and couches along with running water and a toilet. I think this is safe for a while.”

            “Thanks man. I’ll definitely stay here. I saw on the t.v. this morning though that we should cover the windows with blankets. I guess the zombies are attracted by light and sound. We can’t be walking around here at night with the lights on unless we cover the windows.”

            “Thank God I found you. I’d probably be a goner if I didn’t cover ‘em up.” Frank went upstairs and found ten blankets. They needed eight of them to cover windows, so at least they still had one left for each of them to sleep with. After they finished, they started getting themselves ready for the night. Chris also came across three keys for the front door so they didn’t have to leave it unlocked while they were gone.

            “We’ll have heat and electricity for a little while,” Frank said. “When it gets colder though we’ll need to be ready. Eventually the electricity and oil will run out, and we won’t have any running water.”

            We should look for batteries and warm clothing tomorrow. Getting’ too late to do that today. Almost dark out.”

            “Sounds good.” Frank paused for a moment, wondering if he should ask the question. “What’s the story? Any family?”

            “Not now. I’d rather not talk about it.” Chris’ voice lowered, no longer sounding like the brave, full of energy man that he was. At six feet tall, and at least 250 pounds, it was strange hearing such a small voice come from his mouth. “Yesterday seemed so normal at first. I woke up, went to work, and then everything just flipped around. It was so crazy I can barely remember it.” A small tear fell from his right eye, slowly travelling down his cheek until it fell to the ground.

            “You a cop?”

            “Yeah. It isn’t just for show. I work at the police station in New York City. I wonder what happened to the place.”

            “We should go see tomorrow.” Frank looked excited for what the police station could have.”

            “No! There’s probably thousands of undead swarming the streets. That’s a suicide mission.”

            “We’ll come up with a plan. Maybe it isn’t that bad.”

            “Trust me, it probably is. There were thousands of people killed and infected yesterday. They’re all walking the streets by now. I’m still surprised I haven’t seen one here yet.”

            “Well we can’t just sit here Chris. We’re gonna need more supplies, especially weapons to defend ourselves.”

            “We can do that later. We just can’t head into the city empty handed. We’ll think about it tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

            Chris went upstairs, with Frank following behind. They both got comfortable on their couches, quickly dozing off with the fear of what tomorrow would bring.

3

            The sun broke through the clouds, as Frank and Chris awoke after a calm sleep. Frank went through the store taking some of the blankets down so they could get some sunlight. He ventured back upstairs, as he head into the bathroom to splash his face with water.

            There was nothing.

            He turned the knobs, both hot and cold, and nothing came out. This was happening sooner that he had expected. The electricity was still working, but the lack of running water was a problem.

            “Chris, get up! The water’s not workin’.”

            He jumped up from the couch, immediately letting panic set in. Without running water, they would need to venture outside and find water somewhere. The store had milk, juice, and soda, but they would need water to stay hydrated.

            To calm himself, Chris walked over to the window, looking out at the horizon. He stood motionless, unable to react to what he saw.

            It was a disfigured man, walking slowly through the street. Every step looked painful as he limped. He showed no emotion, or any signs of thought. He looked lost, not physically, but mentally. He was a zombie.

            Frank walked over to the window to see what Chris was amazed at.

            He looked so harmless, so innocent. His eyes were colored white and gray, nothing else. The zombie just continued limping along, without a fear or thought; no expression on his face.

            “I feel bad for him.” Chris broke the silence, still staring at the helpless creature. “He looks so innocent. Is this what people are afraid of?”

            “Guess so. Don’t be fooled though. They’ll attack anything that moves.”

            Chris ran downstairs, and got a better look at the helpless monster. Frank followed, warning Chris not to let him see them. He didn’t move, Chris just stared at him through the windows.

            That undead disfigured man suddenly stopped, and turned to look at the store. He caught sight of Frank and Chris. They made eye contact, just staring each other down for about ten seconds. His mouth slowly opened, letting out a wicked growl. He darted toward the door, smashing his body into the barricaded windows. He kept throwing himself at it, just trying to get at the two survivors.

            “We have to kill him!” Frank kicked open the door without any fear, and began pulverizing him with the crowbar, until that flesh-eating freak stopped moving. Frank stopped. Taking deep breaths, he just looked at his bloody hands and began crying. Thoughts raced through his mind. Thoughts of the future, memories of his family, and fear of having to savagely kill more undead beasts terrorized his mind.(To Be Continued)