Furzombie - a gay furry zombie apocalypse

Chapter Three - Sam

Dust fell from the joists above me in the basement as those...things ran about upstairs growling as they went banging on the basement door trying to get in

They were going to eat me.

There was no way I was going to turn into one of those, I needed to survive, but I was cut off from the outside in this dark basement, the only light a single bulb dangling in the middle which swung from side to side as I switched it on with the pull cord.

The shadows in the room would change with the light as it danced from side to side, the exposed beams above me covered in cobwebs, and the tiled floor felt cold beneath my feet.

There I stood in the basement in my boxers my fur exposed to the cold damp air, I didn't have time to dress, it was the screams which woke me.

Blood curdling screams running through the farmhouse, they were zombies, they tried to eat me as I made my way here

I didn't have a choice

I had to kill them

The basement was full of tools and had some racking along the damp red brick walls, it was small and a single room with a stone staircase leading back to the kitchen, the farm was built some hundred years ago so there were no modern comforts down here and certainly no natural light despite it being morning.

I remembered looking at my clock when I heard the screams, leaping out of bed and seeing those zombie's downstairs, seeing my dad get bitten, and watching him turn...

The only exit out the house was through the boot room in the kitchen, this was now blocked by my dad and another zombie which I think was Pete our sheep farmer, both currently banging on the basement door waiting to eat me.

The tears started welling up again, my mum and sister were in the house too, I didn't know if they were OK or not, my mums scream came from the kitchen, but I never saw her, my only option was the basement.

"fuck off" I shouted at the door out of frustration, the constant banging and snarling at the door, id wedged a broom across the door and through the banister screwing the wooden door shut with my dads drill and some screws id found for good measure.

"just fuck off" I cried quietly this time holding my paws up to my face

I needed to think, wiping my eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to compose myself.

Dads gun cabinet

There it was sat in the corner, two doors, a metal green locker housing a couple of shotguns and a hunting crossbow I used to use to shoot rats when I was younger.

The left cabinet was open and the gun was missing, the right was closed and locked, the keys nowhere in sight, I banged my paw against the locker and it echoed out a metallic clang in response, retaining the weapons inside it.

How the hell was I going to get into this

Think Sam think!

I rifled through the shelves on the other wall, moving rusty tools out the way on my dad's disorganised shelves, ironically, he would know exactly where anything was, but to anyone else the basement was where tools went to die or get lost.

I wasn't going to die here, I thought to myself.

I stumbled across a hacksaw and frantically took the blade out the saw wrapping one end in a cloth I'd found, I shoved it into the gap where the locking pin on the locker was and worked away cutting the locking pin like a fur possessed with only one goal in life

To get this locker open

Meanwhile Pete and my father relentless banged on the basement door, I had no idea how much longer it would hold for

"Just fuck off.. Please" I sobbed quietly as if the zombies were listening and would just leave me alone upon request.

The blade flexed and would only go into the locker so far, but I could see metal shavings falling out, it was working.

The lock was merely to keep the guns secure; the cabinets were bolted to the wall and floor so there really was no other way of shifting them or gaining access.

I thought about a pry bar to force the door open but the metal casing was quite substantial, the weakest point was the lock.

My perseverance was rewarded as the blade fell free and my paw dropped down, whatever I had been cutting had well and truly been cut.

The door opened revealing a shotgun and my old crossbow both stood upright in the lower section, the top shelf full of cartridges.

I pulled a box from its cellophane wrapper biting it with my teeth to tear it off, then savagely tearing the box in half spraying cartridges across the basement floor as my paws shook panicking

I grabbed the shotgun and broke the barrel, space for two shells, just two shots and there was two of them outside.

I couldn't miss.

I slid the red cartridges I picked up off the floor into the barrel and flicked it back into position taking the safety off, the red dot clearly visible reminding me the gun was live.

I had to think, how the hell was I going to do this.

If I removed the broom they would come crashing into the basement, but I could remove the broom from the side of the stairs and shoot them as they came in.

Yep that's the plan.

I'd watched enough zombie movies to know I needed to shoot them in the head, so that's what I was going to aim for, and make each shot count, there wouldn't be any time to reload.

Breath Sam breath, I reminded myself inhaling and exhaling deeply, the gun raised against my shoulder as I walked towards the door.

I'm about to shoot my dad

Tears came back, he's not my dad anymore, that's not the same person I grew up with , he's not the same man who raised me, who picked me up drunk from the pub after my first drink, helped me when I was sick, that's not him.

He's not the same man who taught me how to drive the tractor or look after the sheep and cows.

It not my father anymore, he died upstairs in the kitchen right before my eyes as I watched Pete rip the flesh from his neck, he fought back, and he was a strong man... what chance did I have.

I'm about to shoot my dad...

I grabbed the drill and took the screws out of the door I had put in earlier, the wooden door now having some cracks in it and the top hinge was loose.

Glimpses of bloodied paws forced their way through the gap in the door as it was no longer screwed in place, banging against the broom the snarls were coming from the other side, they wanted to eat me

I crept back down the stairs and felt them creak beneath me, my gun raised all the time just in case.

It was now or never

I yanked the broom by the brush and it slide through the banister the door came crashing down with my dad behind it crashing to the bottom of the stairs trying to scramble to his feet oblivious to be massive dent in his head from falling down the stairs head first directly into the wall

Its not my dad, I reminded myself as my finger hovered over the trigger.