98. Grandparents
The sun was bright in the sky and the air hot and humid,
almost stuffy. It was hard to even breathe and move around, and I could feel
drops of sweat run down my back. I continued to chop off the tree though,
because this weather meant slower zombies as well, and less danger for me. I
knew I could get too hot and still be in danger, but I kept myself hydrated,
and I had sunscreen on, so it was as good as it could get. The tree fell down
with a muffled thud since I'd put stuff to keep it as quiet as possible. I
worked on cutting it in parts to bring them back more easily, even though it'd
take me most of the day. I brought them all back at the house one by one, and I
was exhausted once I was done. I still worked on preparing them for replacing
the fence's broken pickets that were destroyed after the last attack. It was
done just before dusk, and I returned inside. I did place some empty cans and
small metal objects on a cord, so I'd hear it if any zombie would attempt to
sneak on me though.
The house I found wasn't out of the ordinary, but it was
comfortable with plenty of dry food and cans to last at least a few months. It
probably belonged to a big family. I would sometimes kill a small animal, and
it almost would be considered a gourmet dinner, rabbit and peas. I was in for a
few weeks now, and beside a few zombie surprises, I seemed to be alone in this
small city. A forest was nearby the backyard, a river ran through the middle of
the city, it was almost perfect. I could climb on the roof to survey the surroundings,
but not once had I seen light anywhere to tell me there were other survivors. I
kept on the fences up during the first few days that I arrived at that house,
killing the too many zombies lingering around. After cleaning the backyard, I
found the remains of a small garden and seed inside the attic. This would be
sufficient to grow a small army of plants, and hopefully they wouldn't be eaten
by wild animals.
I'd already found the corpse of a dog inside, starved to
death, and buried it outside. That had not been pleasant. I knew I couldn't
stay in here for that long, but then the plants would ripen and be useful to
someone else's belly. I might not even survive for that long.
Sleep came easily to me that night, my muscles sore from all
the exercise. I was more muscled than I ever had been, but yet my body still
had its limits. The next morning, I was sore as hell, which only meant I was
still alive. I'd have to explore a bit, find some new weapons because I only had
a screwdriver and a kitchen knife, which were too dangerous to use in my
opinion. I stretched to lessen the pain, ate, and put on a backpack before
heading outside, screwdriver in hand. Nothing had disturbed my defenses. I
unhooked the cord, climbed the fence before attaching it again. I chose the
house on the edge of the city, so I could escape if there was any trouble,
while hoping for no roaming hordes. So far I had been lucky.
The first house I encountered was mostly empty, probably by
the owners before they took off. There was no sign of intrusion and no zombie
inside. There was canned food in the drawers, and I brought some just in case.
There was never enough food. The second house was about the same, and the
armory was empty as well. Perhaps my luck was running dry.
In the third house, I had to be a lot quieter, because at
least four zombies were roaming on the first floor with the entrance door left
wide open. I had to take the chance. I took the first one by surprise with a
hit in the temple, but my screwdriver got stuck, and I struggled to get it out.
First thing I knew they were coming towards me, and I discovered there was a
lot more than I first thought. They managed to corner me in the living room,
and I threw a chair at one of them to try to slow them down. I ran for the
basement door, locking it behind myself. It was pitch black, and I calmed
myself down before I attempted to find the light switch. Of course it wouldn't
work, so I retrieved my flashlight from my backpack. I was slowly climbing down
the stairs when I heard some growls nearby.
I froze, turned the light towards
the sound, but I couldn't see anything, the basement was quite wild. I realized
with a silent curse I had left my screwdriver on the floor, I probably lost it
as I was escaping the zombies. I explored a bit and found the workshop, with
screwdrivers again laying around. I took the longest and turned around when I
heard another growl. Nothing was coming closer though, but I could hear chains clinking
as well… I slowly approached, light forward, and was met with the glossy eyes
of two zombies. I gasped, screwdriver clutched in my hand, when I noticed the
chains attached around their neck. They had been leashed down here.
They had been old people when they had died, perhaps
grandparents, and I shivered in concern. Who could have done such a thing? I
took a deep breath (by the mouth, mind you, because the stench was quite
disgusting) and killed them one by one. I crouched down and looked at the
name tags they had on. Captain America and
Wonder Woman. I scoffed, not knowing
if I was to cry or laugh. Superheroes were dead.
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Let's be cray cray together!