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[Hey guys, I have something new and interesting I would like to do weekly. Every week I will post a very short story and whoever finishes it the best will have all their games, music, posts, art & videos rated 5.00 from me! Now I know this may be confusing for some people or a waste of time for others so if you are the only one who posts within a week you automatically get a 5.00 rating and a 10 star review* from me!]
*10 star rating is for only one thing you've made.
This wasn't the first time Robert was in a apostatized city. He remembered this place earnestly. He grew up in California and New York was on the other side of the Country, but he somehow got the money to bring him and his family here once a month. He remembered the time when he was a kid, he had friends here who loved to get into mischievous trouble, and then when he was with his wife and kids. They were so perfect. His life was unmarred.
But now it was abolished. They were all dead and no one but him walked the Earth. He thought he would make it, he thought his family would survive but the brutal truth smacked him on the face when they all died. Then his mind went to his wife, her face the moment he pulled the trigger, it was ugly and disgusting. But when he remembered her with the children, she was as beautiful as an angel. The wind picked up and howled as it ran through the streets, lifting bags and leaves into the air.
The day was colder than it looked. The sun was disappearing behind some clouds and it gave off a red - orange tint to the sky. Around him dust flew everywhere as the chilling wind began to howl. His tattered tan suit was all he had, his tie was shreds and he was too lazy to take it off. A shotgun was slung over his shoulder and against his back and his right hand held a Budweiser beer. It was old and flat, but the buzz in his head felt good again.
As he staggered down the car littered street he thought of all the ways he could have beaten that douchebag Allan French in the 7th grade. That fight was so long ago he forgot who won, but what he did remember was the 13 spankings he recieved the second his mother found out he had faught. He missed his mother. She was so kind and sweet. She died way before this shit-hole mess came about. She died of cirouses of the liver.
It could have been the wind or a wore down building's strained steel wailing in complaint. But what he heard was very familiar. The sound of zombies. He intoxication made him feel better, and tougher but zombies were something else. He found a bright yellow cab and decided to take a break from his drunken walking. As he leaned against the car near the three way intersection he remembered where he was.
He recignized this spot. It was Central Park. He knew it wasn't safe to go in there, but the drunken side got the better of him. He staggered in and took account of all the details. The now golden sunlight breaking through the green and brown leaves. The dirt, scattered and bloody. And his shotgun, weathered and old. He would forget all this tomorrow, but he didn't care. He tried to picture his wife and kids playing around the small meadows but for some reason his brain could not.
Suddenly, without him knowing his shotgun shot a round into the air in front of him, leaving a small plume of smoke inching it's way out of his barrel. He slowly looked up into the darkness and saw a headless Zombie slump down on it's knees and fall to it's side. "What the?" He croaked, his voice sounding weird and unfamiliar. He then sobered up on the spot and ran the way he had come. The zombies were after him now and he could hear their moans approaching him.
Suddenly he reached the gate and hobbled over it just in time before one of the zombies flipped over it and landed on Robert's side. It's intrails were caught on one of the spikes and prevented it from getting any closer. "Fuck." He whispered as he scrambled off the dirt floor and ran faster down 57th Street. The zombies were on his tail and he felt his lungs going out. The beer wasn't helping his speed in any way either. Then he turned right and went past Staples.
As he did he turned, knelt on one knee and shot five of them as fast as his trigger could and brought down two. "Crap!" He yelled as one tripped over his leg, he recognized it as the one with the trailing intestines he had encountered seconds before. Robert then realized that these were fast. He booked it into the closest building he was near and found himself locking the doors of the Buckingham hotel. It was dark and eroded in some places. The stairs to the second story were partially destroyed and the floor was covered in dust.
The zombies were doing their best in entering, but all they managed to do was crack the class by accident. Robert knelt down on the ground and shot his hand gun at the floor boards. He managed to retrieve five and he placed them on the empty receptionist desk. Robert entered the Maintenance Room and found 13 nails and a hammer. Once he was finished boarding up the front door he scoped the place out with his flashlight attached to his shotgun. The more stories he climbed, the darker it got and the more he needed the lights on.
Robert decided to try the elevators, but they didn't work so he climbed down to the generator room and flipped a switch. He heard the growing hum of the lights and one right next to him flickered on. "Odd." He whispered. Who would turn off the power? Then he tried to put two and two together, but he was too intoxicated to think. He was tired and wanted to sleep.
Robert went back to the receptionist desk and looked for a map of the building, there was one and he located a small Utility Closet where they kept the Washing & Vending machines. He decided to take the elevator up and when he pressed the button he felt an eerie feeling. He made sure his shotgun was ready and he waited for the ding! elevators made when they arrived to their floor. A slight hum grew from the doors and then the ding rung threw the air. The silver doors opened and bodies were lying on the floor, blood everywhere.
Robert almost threw up in his mouth because the smell wafted into his face as the doors opened. He looked closer and saw that they were probably zombies, dead from either starvation or advanced decay. All three of their faces were unrecognizable. "Oh god!" He murmured as he saw two small children who looked like as if they were trying to claw at the doors. The mouth area of the mother was bloody and the children's weren't. Their mother ate them.
Robert finally decided to take a different elevator up after examining the it he ascended to the fourth floor. He checked the room and made a bed with the mattresses and pillows of the other nearby rooms. He then propped his gun up and looked around the small white room with the wooden trimmings. The one grey window near where he sat let off a grayish tint to the whole room and to that he fell heavily asleep. His dreams - like usual - were filled with Elizabeth. His two children running and playing made him smile, it was a good dream this time.
The forest made the ground dark and his right eye was throbbing & covering his eye so he could only see with the other. Then everything slowed and he heard a distant voice yelling. He couldn't identify but he raised his gun with his left hand and levelled his eyes on the sights. It was hard - shooting with your left eye. But he managed to shoot each one in or between the eyes.
He heard the voice again and he looked around his surroundings. Zombies were littered around the perimeter of the clearing and his gun was hot, but only had two more bullets in the chamber. He sunk down to his knees and started feeling queesy. His swollen eye had somehow gotten his equilibrium jacked up.
Ray shook his head and whispered to himself. "Everything is fine, I'll make it. I heard her. I heard her" What he meant by her was his sister who had spoken to her. Leading him towards somewhere safe. "That's impossible, she's dead." He reassured himself. Then two more came out and more quickly this time shot each in the brain. Then unslung his M16.
Ray specked his gun and placed his knife in it's holster. "Head west." He reminded himself. "Head west." He then helped himself up with the gun. He then cracked his knuckles and shook himself all over. The moans that had once diminshed for a few seconds grew again.
He needed a silencer, this was getting ridculous. He then carried on west making sure to watch the sun every few minutes. After 30 minutes he was exhausted but was relieved to see a shabby and weathered Ranger Station. He stepped up the wet stairs and knocked on the door. No answer.
He knocked several more times and decided no one was there and scoped around the back. He found a back entrance but due to the wetness of the forest, the wood surrounding the door had grown in size and nudged the door in it's frame. Ray pulled and pulled, but nothing worked. But after he punched it twice in anger he played the thought of giving up.
Then he pulled greatly and the door gave way, making him slip on the moss ridden stair. As he landed on his back he quickly - almost instantly - realized he could not breath. "Oh my god, oh god." He growled. He got up and look were he landed and saw rocks. Very rough and bloody rocks. He felt his back. It was wet and warm. He found his breathe and regained some awareness.
"Fuck me." He whispered. Then he grabbed his knife which had gotten dislodged from it's holder and climbed the steps, and staggered inside. Then his head became light and he imagined himself floating to the cieling and lying there, but when he snapped out of it he was on the ground in a small pool of blood.
"Med-kit" He whispered as he reached for a box with a large red cross inside a circle. Then his eyes shut and everything became black. It felt like a dreamless sleep but was awoken when something pushed him on his stomach. "Who are you?" He managed in a muffled voice. Then he fell back asleep. He was sleepy, very sleepy.