He stood there, hands dripping in blood. “Was the killing needed?” he questioned himself sitting at the edge of the cliff. “Will I be judged for killing these abominations?” talking out loud as if a voice from the clouds would speak back telling him everything was going to be ok and that the slaughter he had witnessed and even partaken in would be forgiven. But he got no response to his question.
The clouds rolled in bringing the cold tropical rain with it. Washing the blood from his face and hands, He watched as the red streamed slowly from his body and ran over the edge. The blood triggered the memory of his first kill. He was escaping the hotel when he heard a little boy sobbing. As he followed the sound he could start to hear a crunching noise almost like the sound you’d hear on the discovery channel when hyenas eat scavenged food. The door was slightly open letting light shine into the hallway. As he peered in he first saw the boy sitting in the corner trying to hide his eyes, as he started in he could see was what was causing his trauma. I woman, most likely the child’s mother, was laying on her back on the bed.
The woman was covered in blood… he could see it was a woman only because the clothes were still half on her. There were no distinctive characteristics left do to the fact another child, around the same age as the boy, was devouring what was left of her upper torso. See the thing had already eaten her face. Without hesitation he swung the bat he grabbed as he walk to the bed and with one fell swat the weapon caved in the back of the creatures head. It lashed out swinging a hand as he swung up catching the creatures jaw and ripping it off. The little beast lay on the floor barely moving. He placed one foot over its neck as he twisted the things legs making a loud pop from its neck and finally making it stop moving.
Sitting in the rain he was happy he could help that kid and reunite him with his father, who was stuck in an elevator nearby. But he questions whether or not he could have spared the kids life and maybe they would find a cure. But would anyone want a cure just to realize they had eaten their mother or father or kids.. and how would they live with that without killing themselves?… “Finally the rain is stopping.” But the cold felt good on is back. Its bruised from the beating he got on the beach. And he is pretty sure if he wasn’t dehydrated he would be pissing blood from the massive kidney shit he got.
See he saw smoke down the beach and thought maybe it was a beacon and he would find some survivors… That was not the story however; it was what was left of helicopter wreckage. The only person left wasn’t a person at all but one big burley son of a bitch. His pistol was useless without ammo and the kitchen knife he was carrying around wasn’t going to cut it. He grabbed a rock and got angry.. not just mad but fucking pissed. He was tired of the fucking walking dead. Period. With all of his might he ran faster and harder than he probably ever had. With two huge strides he ran up a fallen palm tree log that was braced on a boulder. Leaping in the air, swinging the rock at it’s head, missing and landing face first in a pile of sand and sea weed. As the creature pummeled his back and kidneys he knew it was fight fast or die. He donkey kicked with all his might cracking the knee of the big bastard. This gave him the split second he needed to push the pain aside and react. With one smooth movement he flipped over and kicked the other knee with both feet as hard as he could, bringing the creature down to its ass. Beside him was a three foot long part of the propeller blade. He swung that hunk of metal with all his pain behind it. It was like time slowed down and the blade slowly went through the skull like a knife through butter. Gurgling and twitching was all that remained from the hulking mass of rotting flesh.
The night was creeping in over the ocean. He could see for miles from the height he was at. A lighthouse was signaling in the distance. Would it bring help? Or would it just bring more people to their deaths?… The lighthouse. That would have been a perfect place to hold ground. “You live and you learn” he mumbled to himself as he tended his bite wound. “So much for that yacht off shore.” He came to this cliff not by accident. This is where they teach hang gliding. He figured he could use the hang glider to get close to the small yacht anchored just out to sea. As he strapped himself in he couldn’t move well and that fucking piece of shit came out of nowhere. He struggled trying to get free from the zombie, ya let’s face it they are zombies. It bit him just as he got out of the rigging. He yanked its head from his arm and shoved his hand down its throat. “YOU WANT ME?” he screamed “FUCKING CHOKE ON ME YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH”. His adrenaline set in. he tore through the chest snapping the ribs like twigs, digging at the organs until he could grab the spine. With the leverage from the spine he grabbed the insides of the things throat and yanked, tearing the flesh from the whole in its chest all the way up to its jaw which was no longer attached. He took what remained and tossed it to the sea, feeding the sharks that were already swarming in blood frenzy. As the realization that escape was pointless now slowly sat in he sat at the cliffs edge.
He could hear the generators cutting out which means the schools gates wouldn’t be locked much longer. The clawing and snarling would soon be followed by the sound of running and screeching. But they wouldn’t get to have him for their last supper. He made peace with his fate and was ready to go. But he would go how he wanted not as a dying zebra to the pack of hyenas. The gates came crashing down as the sun finally drifted from the horizon. The light from the lighthouse glimmered across the water. He finished strapping the hang glider to himself one more time. As he ran off the edge the horde was swinging and clawing at his feet. Looking over his shoulder he could see a dozen or so fall from the cliff, bouncing off the rocks as they descended to the shark filled waters.
He made it to the yacht. The whole flight there he thought “fuck I may be immune like those fuckers I heard on the radio earlier” as he opened the door to the cabin he blinks and sees the barrel of a shotgun. Before he can say anything his skull became the new décor for the yachts deck. As the door slowly closed to the cabin you could hear a kind of psychotic laugh from within ” ha ha haaa looks like ill be eating after all”……..