They say… the invasion started a few days ago. There was school that day… I skipped out… Stayed on the rooftop of my dad’s big business building… and I haven’t left since then. The dead now walk among us… I don’t know what to do. But then… they came… and took me… It’s never been the same.
The sky was heavy with ash and smoke in the beaten city. The ash had made its way through the city, laying itself upon the streets, turning said streets from the recognizable black to a near-white. The smoke was so thick in the streets that people had to thickly wrap their faces with clothes and try to make a dash into the streets, looking for the safe confines of a military truck or some kind of safe haven. But as soon as they left their houses, they were met with the hungry dead that walked among us. I’ve seen them do everything. Bite, rip, break, slurp, inflame, engorge… all leading to the death of the poor people on the streets. I’ve noted that it takes the innocents who are killed about an hour to rise as one of the… zombies. I’ve watched their interactions with eachother and their rudimentary forms of destruction. I’ve watched this all, from atop a mid-sized skyscraper. For some odd reason, the smoke seemed to only linger in the streets and stopped after that. From my position, I could watch all of the death and destruction while keeping myself safe. I had to take extra pre-cautions of course. When I noticed the odd things going on down below, I took a quick detour down to my fathers office and grabbed a simple Browning HP pistol that he hid under his files along with a few boxes of ammo. Not well-hidden and never used so I didn’t have to dawdle in his office longer then necessary.
Slipping back to the rooftop, hoping to keep out of the eyes of any suspicious office workers that had already managed to barricade themselves, I began to see the true wreckage. With my newly acquired weapon, I felt a bit safer to take a glance down the side of the building. The first day of watching was nothing special. Empty streets and the occasional blood-curdling scream. That was it. No deaths caught my eye and no survivors managed to escape. It was the second day that I spent atop the building that proved to me that the city had turned to hell. Out of the same building I had begun to call home, I saw a large number of men, all escaping at once. Large black Army vans took over the streets and shoveled people into them. The office workers had two vans that they had to stuff into. It was a time consuming process and by the end of it all, a large mob of the dead had made their way to the street. There was a large number of people still awaiting their safety, but apparently the Government doesn’t care. The Army had rules. And one of those rules was to leave instantly if the dead got close enough. And so, I watched as the vans pulled away. I watched desperate faces, clawing at the metal casing of each car, begging to get in. The pain on their faces was unbearable and the worst part of it all, they had not even gotten attacked yet. Even when they tried to escape, they were only met with another incoming mob. That was the first day I cried.
The third day of watching started out with instant fear. I awoke on the cold concrete, the tears still fresh on my face, to one of the dead staring down at me. Instead of simply staring gape-mouthed and wide-eyed at the zombie, I rolled to my side and reached for the pistol. The zombie simply turned my way, unmoving. What is he… stupid? Shaking in fear, I stepped towards the zombie. Its arm twitched and I cowered back a few steps. The zombie seemed frozen in its spot. It didn’t even recognize the ashes that began to call his head home. This was the first time I got a good look at one of the dead. It looked much like a human, except for pieces of flesh missing from various spots of the body and their eyes no longer held the spark of life. Not to mention the graying of their skin. Some of the dead had chunks of their bodies missing, sometimes limbs. This one was fully intact. As I stared at the zombie who was once a man, something inside me erupted. An anger sprouted from pity. This man had once lived a normal life and because of the dead below, had lost it all. Tears welled up in my eyes but I forced them back. The anger erupted in a single fluid motion. I kicked forward, fully outstretching my leg, hitting him fully in the chest. The zombie let out a groan as it fell back, off the edge of the building. I stayed my ground. I had no plan to watch the man fall to his doom. Then there was a sickening thud. Crunches and an odd slurp like noise. Finally taking my first glance down into the street, I finally noticed the smoke. It wasn’t there the first two days and yet here it was in full force. I didn’t take it as much and looked down at the zombie’s final resting place. It was a sight that I wouldn’t wish on my mortal enemy. A sick feeling developed in my stomach and the blood rushed away from my face. But I had no time to try and recover. The fools down below had noticed their friend had died and that he came from above. They managed to put one and one together and they filed into the building. Thinking quickly, I looked all around the building. To my left was a close building, only a small gap between the building I stood on and the other. Good thing this city is packed in so tight. To my advantage, I had spent most of my school time at the track and I quickly cleared the gap. Landing on my ankle, my face twisted in pain. I was certain that it had twisted. Groans came and I spent the rest of that day laying there. I wasn’t sure what happened to the zombies that came after me, but I could take a good guess. The night was full of the sickening thuds. It seems the zombies couldn’t register when there was no land beneath their feet.
That fourth night was the beginning of all the odd things. I found myself laying face first in gravel, whining and moaning about my wound. I simply could not get myself to move. Even when I heard the footsteps coming towards me. Odd chatter could be heard, I simply closed my eyes and cowered in fear. I could feel their presence over me. A large group of men. They seemed to be alive. They spoke in tongues and codes. I had no idea what was going on around me. Then, I lost consciousness. I’ll never get used to that feeling…
WOAH DANG. NEW STORY?! YEAH. NEW FIXED STYLE?! YEAH. WEWTSAUCE. NAET IS BACK AND HE IS WRITING. A LOT. 8D HE RULES LIKE YOU FOOLS DON’T EVEN KNOW DAWG. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOWWWW.
… Sorry about that… That scared me too… D:
HM. VERNE TROYER HAS A SMALL WANG.
Sorry. I think I have toure-
APPLECHEEZITPEN-NO!
D: Sorry guys. This isn’t cool at all.
I just am bored, and I do not have much to talk about.
OH! MY PODCAST. Dur.
I have started a podcast with Oscar and Kennith which is either a project that will last or is already dead, I’m not sure. It’s a gaming podcast that covers most of the bases of gaming while trying to provide entertainment at the same time. We try our best… well not really. Reviews that took little thought and moments of awkward silence are bound to be around.Tha’s what we’re good at. You can find it on iTunes or at switchpod.com. The podcast is calledz, Candy Coated Death Gaming. It’s a weird title I know, we just took one of our old jokes and put it into the title. There isn’t much of a set time for doing the podcasts. No weekly, monthly or anything. Just whenever we feel like it. Some outside forces have prevented us from doing any in the recent weeks but hopefully we’ll get back on it soon.
Nownow. Since I am back, I expect that you guys will all get along. And, I expect more people reading? : D? Please? D: … Fine. I see how it is. I’ll just be writing to myself again. Psh. I don’t need fans. Who needs fans? Not Naet, that’s for sure. 8D … Guys…? D: I miss you guys… D:
