Dusk had fallen and we were surrounded. I stared out the window out onto the fields of corpses; they stared back up at me. They were swarming and pushing forward, pressing from all sides against the tiny cottage we were sheltering in. Our time for running had come to an end. A cry from downstairs snapped me out of my stupor. I rushed downwards, gripping my shotgun with sweaty palms. The noise down here was horrendous; the dead groaned and screamed and smashed endlessly against our barricades. They would not hold out much longer. Alan turned to me with a panicked look, “How does it look out there?” He asked desperately. One look at my expression and he turned back to the barricades, his answer didn’t need words.
There was a loud crack as the one of the window barricades smashed and fell uselessly onto the floor. Through the hole a man’s face appeared and peered at us with a white glazed eye. His cheek was torn and skin hung loosely off his face exposing his blood stained teeth. I dropped the shotgun and rushed to take a crowbar off the kitchen table. I reached the window just as the intruder attempted to climb through the gap and swung the crowbar at his head. There was a sickening crunch and his body sank to the floor. Behind me I heard other windows breaking open.
They squeezed into the house trhough every hole. I hit another zombie as he tried to get through the gap and spun around to grab the shotgun. There was an incredibly loud bang as Alan’s gun went off, demolishing the face of a zombie breaking through another window. Gripping my shotgun now I yelled, “Alan, pull back! We’ll bottleneck them on the stairs”. Alan looked me in the eye and nodded. Together we turned and headed for the stairs. At that moment the main door collapsed inwards and they poured in. I briefly saw Alan’s eyes widen in shock before they grabbed him, he screamed, and they began to tear bits of his flesh off with their teeth. My last image of him before escaping upstairs was his body twitching uselessly in shock.
Now I sit in bedroom, back against the flimsy door. I hear the zombies moving upstairs and it won’t be long before they find me. There’s no way out. There’s no way to win. I stare at the endless black of the shotgun barrel. I picture Alan’s twitching body, his terrified face and the immense screaming pain of being eaten alive. I place the barrel in my mouth to see how it feels. It feels strangely comforting. I try to will myself away from this place. I picture my family and friends, and the loving home I used to have. I close my eyes in the dying light of the day and embrace the blackness.
Slowly, I open my eyes again and look up at the bedroom ceiling. There is a painted square hatch, so easily missed. This room has a loft.
There was a loud crack as the one of the window barricades smashed and fell uselessly onto the floor. Through the hole a man’s face appeared and peered at us with a white glazed eye. His cheek was torn and skin hung loosely off his face exposing his blood stained teeth. I dropped the shotgun and rushed to take a crowbar off the kitchen table. I reached the window just as the intruder attempted to climb through the gap and swung the crowbar at his head. There was a sickening crunch and his body sank to the floor. Behind me I heard other windows breaking open.
They squeezed into the house trhough every hole. I hit another zombie as he tried to get through the gap and spun around to grab the shotgun. There was an incredibly loud bang as Alan’s gun went off, demolishing the face of a zombie breaking through another window. Gripping my shotgun now I yelled, “Alan, pull back! We’ll bottleneck them on the stairs”. Alan looked me in the eye and nodded. Together we turned and headed for the stairs. At that moment the main door collapsed inwards and they poured in. I briefly saw Alan’s eyes widen in shock before they grabbed him, he screamed, and they began to tear bits of his flesh off with their teeth. My last image of him before escaping upstairs was his body twitching uselessly in shock.
Now I sit in bedroom, back against the flimsy door. I hear the zombies moving upstairs and it won’t be long before they find me. There’s no way out. There’s no way to win. I stare at the endless black of the shotgun barrel. I picture Alan’s twitching body, his terrified face and the immense screaming pain of being eaten alive. I place the barrel in my mouth to see how it feels. It feels strangely comforting. I try to will myself away from this place. I picture my family and friends, and the loving home I used to have. I close my eyes in the dying light of the day and embrace the blackness.
Slowly, I open my eyes again and look up at the bedroom ceiling. There is a painted square hatch, so easily missed. This room has a loft.
oh please continue this story! its so interesting! it's great works of art like this that make life even more awesome :)
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