Berlin, September 15th
He was right! He was damn right! They are not irrational creatures! They are us, but they are not like us.
It was like an entire army of undead. They came in rows, walking steadily as if they were marching towards us, with their mouths open, drooling, their arms resting on the side of their bodies, and that empty, dull, horrifying gaze. They probably knew they had the numbers. There were many thousands of them, coming down the street.
And we shot at them during the whole day, until the sunset. We washed the pavement with their blood, tearing men, woman and children apart like if they were rubber dolls. And we kept shooting and shooting; and they kept coming and coming.
Then, it was all silent. A disturbing, maddening silence. There were bodies everywhere, fallen over the foul-smelling bodies from the previous days.
"How many do you think we killed today?" I asked a companion.
"Much more than ten thousand," he said.
The commander gathered the troop, and we could clearly see that he was terrified.
"We must stand our ground. Someone might be coming to rescue us."
"Sorry, Herr Hauptmann, but if a another wave like that come against us, we won't be able to stop them. Our ammo is very low already. We have to find a way to escape from here," a soldier said.
We all agreed with him. We'd die if we stayed. We had to get the fuck out of there.
YOU ARE READING
Notes from the End of the World
HorrorThe Collectors Guild hired him to be the Postman, to gather the notes that will help the humankind to have a deeper understanding on how and why the world ended. Nobody knows anything for sure; the only certainty is that it's really dangerous out th...
