My first story. XD
Please comment and vote, vote, vote!!! Sorry for some grammar mistakes.^^
Enjoy!
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SURVIVORS OF THE 21st CENTURY
Story by: Rafhael "agent_sykes03" Mangalao
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PROLOGUE
I opened my eyes, and found myself lying on a cold, gritty concrete surface. There was something sticky between my left cheek and the surface I'm lying on. I tried to stand up, but at that moment, standing is almost impossible because my head throbs every time I move. So I turned over and sat, my back to the wall.
I looked at the ground, and saw blood on the concrete surface. I wiped the blood on my cheek with my left hand while I touched the back of my head with my right hand. I felt a large lump there, wet. My fingers came away red.
That was until I remember what happened to me. I am in an alley between my apartment complex and a 13-storey condominium. I looked up at my apartment room. It was on the 5th floor, opposite the 5th floor of the condominium, where the 'guy' jumped. I looked around with full alert, as if expecting for an attack from behind. But it's still the same. It's quiet. Still...nobody's around. I am still alone.
I jerked forward and walked home while groaning at my every step. After an hour of tracing the stairs, I arrived at my room. I held the knob, but paused for a moment. I looked at the room opposite my room.
Room 204. Mary. Why haven't you listened to me?
I held my tears back as I quickly entered my room. I locked the door with the knob, a chain lock, and two steel bars. Just for 'security' purposes.
After cleaning the wound on the back of my head with soap and water, I daubed some iodine on it and I winced every time the cotton touches the wound. I may be the only person in this planet alive, but I'm not going to kill myself just because of an infection.
I stepped out of the bathroom and went to the terrace. The sun is slowly setting down. I looked at my wristwatch. Half past five. In just an hour, the bastards will be walking on the streets. I looked at the opposit building in front of me.
Damn. 'He' was standing at the window at the room where he jumped from this morning. It seems like he didn't noticed me because of the way he moves. He's calm.
Don't worry, pretty boy. I'll deal with you tomorrow.
After silently teasing the zombie, I went back to the room and locked the terrace door, the same way as the front door.
My name is Clyde. I am 23 years old. A survivor of the viral plague that put man's existence to the edge of extinction. Let me take you back where it all started . . .
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