Day 42 - Zombie Apocalypse [Intro]

Author's Note: I haven't actually named the story yet, and this is the shortest chapter in the entire thing. All feedback and reviews are welcome and highly encouraged. I've submitted this in multiple places and got near to no feedback anywhere, so please take the time to type a review.


His eyes shot open as the dirty mud smeared window smashed across the room, his hands fumbling for the rifle that lay on the floor a few meters from him, the cartridge already loaded, bolt cocked and ready to fire, a military-grade silencer attached to the barrel. As his hand grasped the tape-covered grip, he lifted the rifle to point towards the shattered window, the stock pressed firmly to his shoulder, his free hand raised slightly so he could look at the faded silver watch on his wrist, the hands reading 6:02.

As the minutes passed and light started to brighten the room as the sun came over the horizon, he moved towards the window cautiously, all too aware of what happens when you let your guard down. As he reached the window, his suspicions were confirmed as the sound of a piercing shriek deafened him and a deformed monster leapt from beneath the smashed and smashed into his chest.

As he sprawled across the floor, the monster clambered in through the window, the jagged edges of the smashed glass cutting deep into his mutilated hands. Its grotesque face focussed directly at the stunned human, its reddened eyes staring intently, its jaw gaping widely to display the rotting jagged teeth that filled its maw, coated in blood and saliva that carried the cursed virus that had turned most of humanity into savage beasts similar to this, the virus that turned all it infected into Zombies unlike any the world had ever thought would exist.

The Zombie scrambled through the window eagerly, raspy noises of violent glee protruding from its blood filled throat, interrupted by an angry growl and shocked exhale as it collapsed to the floor, its foot caught on the window. The human wasted no time to get back to his feet, the rifle securely gripped and pointed at the monster flailing on the floor. He squeezed the trigger, muffled bullets slamming into the skull of the Zombie. As the projectiles collided with the monster, the back of its skull shattered, sending brain, bone and blood splattering across the rotting wooden floor of the room.

He rushed towards the window, peering out across the street to make sure no other Zombies were heading towards the building. Satisfied with what he saw, he moved back to the bed and sat down upon it, removing the magazine from his rifle and replacing it with another, cocking the gun again to make sure it was ready to fire. He then reached for a bag of loose bullets and undid the thin metal wire that was holding it shut, taking bullets and loading them into the cartridge he had removed from his rifle, preparing it in case he had to deal with more freaks.

Once he had finished loading the magazine, he placed it in a small bag that was sitting beside him on the bedside table, grabbing the grubby, dirt covered journal that lay beside it, turning to an empty page to make a quick entry before leaving.

June 29th 2012

Fuck. I'm not used to getting up this early, so I'll keep this entry as short as I can.
It's about 6:20 in the morning, and I've had fuck all sleep. A fucking Zombie found me this morning, woke me up at around 6. Smashed the fucking window while it was at it. Lucky I had that M4 I found on a dead soldier a few days ago or I'd probably have been Zombie food by now. Those Zombie fuckers and the military kept me up all night, too. They've been fighting ever since this shit started, which was almost a month ago, I think. I doubt we're winning, too. Those marine dumbasses don't know what the fuck they're doing anymore.
I should get moving. It's almost 6:30 now. I spent a whole ten minutes writing this while paranoidly watching the window and stopping at every little fucking noise I heard. Shit.
And what's worse, I gotta find a new place to stay. This shithole isn't safe anymore. At least I get to use my matches for something fun.

Your ever fucking lucky civilian with a gun, Damian.

Damian folded the book shut and grabbed the black bag that lay slumped against the wall, placing it inside next to the bag of loose bullets and the bottles of water, zipping it shut again. He then slung the bag over his shoulder and clipped the small pack of magazines to his belt, the zip slightly open so he could unzip it with ease if he had to. He stood up and grabbed his rifle from the dusty table, walking towards the window for a final glance before leaving. Satisfied with the deceivingly peaceful scene he saw, he reached for the door handle into the hallway and raised his gun, stepping out into the dangerous world.

Damian shivered violently as he trudged through the debris littered hallway of the apartment block, his rifle clutched tightly to his shoulder. He froze in his tracks as he heard the clumsy banging of feet on rotting wooden floors as group of Zombies rushed through the floor above him, the roof creaking under the pressure. He looked towards the stairs, which were only a matter of meters from him, then run across the hall towards the other end, turning and dropping to his knee, the rifle trained upon the staircase door, his breathing silent.

After only a few moments, three monsters blundered through the sealed wooden door, smashing it off its hinges, then rushed straight into the room Damian had been inside merely minutes before. He stayed motionless as he waited for the freaks to show themselves again, the risks too high to make a break for the stairs. After only a few seconds, the first of the Zombies burst out of the room again, heading looking down the hall to where Damian kneeled, rifle ready to pop its skull.

With a primitive bellow, the Zombie broke into a sprint, arms forward to grab Damian, its jaws wide and ready to rip into the soft flesh of the human with a gun. Without a second thought, Damian placed the gun’s sights directly over the Zombie’s head, the red dot in the centre directly over its forehead, a bullet blowing a hole right through to the already blood stained wall, fresh bloody chunks painting the fading wood. With a small sigh as it collapsed, the Zombie fell motionless to the ground, the two other Zombies sprinting towards Damian in its place. With little effort, Damian turned the gun on them as well, their heads joining the rest, becoming little more than bloody messes across the hallway.

Stepping over the corpses, he rushed towards the stairs, sliding down the banister on each flight to minimize the noise. When he reached the bottom, he looked up the centre of the staircases, making sure nothing was following him down, then opened the door and scanned the hall, stepping out when he was sure it was clear, heading towards the lobby.

Opening the door slowly, Damian peered through to examine all of the doors and windows, making sure they were closed like he left them, the glass in the front of the lobby still boarded up with sheets of steel looted from a nearby shed. Satisfied with what he saw, he slipped out of the hall quietly, jogging towards the blood covered front desk. Once there, he pulled a box of matches from his pocket, removed one, then swiped it across the side of the box, the top flickering to life as a small flame appeared. With an eager grin, he held the match under the desk until the wood caught alight.

Discarding the match and replacing the box in his pocket, Damian jogged towards the back of the lobby, pushing in a code on the staff-only door, slipping inside without a second thought. He pulled the door shut slowly, making sure to wait until it clicked. Once inside, he did a quick sweep of the room to make sure it was empty, to put his mind at rest, despite knowing for a fact that nothing could get in or out without a key or a code. Once he was finished, Damian grabbed the bag he had stored under a box in the corner of the room, taking the two bottles of water he had stored inside and placing them within his own bag. Shouldering his bag again, he stepped towards the back door of the building, perring through the window, opening it once the coast was clear, stepping out into the alley behind the apartment building.