Survival of the People

Survive

My bat collides with its head. The sickening crunch allows for a quick death, as far as I can tell. No blood drains from his now lopsided skull, just a putrid yellow gas, that makes me cover my nose from the sheer stink of it.

Stepping back, I admire my work. Three down. Three ugly, gruesome beings that may look like humans, but are something closer to a devil in disguise. Not that they're aware of what they're doing. But their corpses are. I stare down at the two men and one woman, feeling a tiny amount of sorrow for the once breathing, thriving people. One of the men is still wearing his work uniform. A cop. Just like daddy, a voice in my head says. I shake it. No time for that. The holes through their chest allow for a tiny insight into their immortal age. The woman is fresh. The blood matted but shiny around the rim of her injury. Yet, the men... their gapping wounds show an age of crusted, peeling blood.

Fucking Rippers, I think again. The walls surrounding the murder are old and damp, just asking for a nice fire to...rekindle...their once glorious beauty. I exist the room, stepping into a dark hallway of more dead Rippers. Nice work, I smile.

Gather supplies now, Marloe. Be happy later. I step-side the bodies, moving towards the storage rooms I'm hoping aren't locked. Well, even if they are, I'll get it open. Even if I have to take a shotgun to it. I pull out a piece of paper, the blue prints to this place. "Winston's Food Distribution Factory" it reads at the top. Where am I now? Michigan? I could care less, but Highway 275 is hard to find in the fast growing vines of the forest. My boots, now covered in the rotting flesh of Rippers, click quietly against the tile floors of the large building. Hiking boots, none the less. I smirk at my lack of fashion. Well, it's not like anyone is here to judge me.

I stop abruptly. You almost missed the door, stupid head. The storage room, a holding cell for the next few months of my survival, lay behind a red door of lock and chain. I roll my eyes. My gun holster, a beautiful, red leather necessity swallows my German Semi-automatic pistol. Pulling it out, I make quick work of the lock. Pulling open the doors, I smile at the large array of Rippers who thrash their bodies in my direction.

Here we go. I rush them, making a quick head count of all five. One comes from my side, slow but large. I slide down under him, swiping his feet out from under. He lands feverishly on his hands, and I scramble up and over his spine, shooting him dead center of his anterior lobe. I use his back, a nice latter for view of the two coming headfirst, to launch myself at them.

I tackle one mid torso, getting a nice breath of his open heart wound, and shoot from under his jaw, gas exploding like fire works from his head. The other one turns quickly on its heals, jumping on my back. I force up, and body slam it down, rolling off her body backwards, gripping a large amount of hair and smashing it down on the ground. A female. Hmm.

A slapping sound from behind me comes fast, and I whip around, shooting at point blank to an old man, eyes blurry and blue. Only four, Marloe. I have one more bullet, and back quickly into a wall, sliding into a dark corner. There were five, no doubt. You know better Mar. I think quickly. A ripper who hides, and waits. A new one. Smart. Still human like.

I click my tongue three times, crouching to the ground. From this view, I see no feet planted. A climber. Which means fit.

"Shit." I breath. Fine. Get it over quick. I step into the middle of the room. I twirl, exposing my chest. A low growl echos from my right. I silently smirk. Dumb, new Ripper. Hungry to the point of exposing itself. Walls bounce sound, and I know immediately where it is. I quickly grab a small pocket knife from a minature slide on my holster, switching it open just in time to spin and throw it violently at a young blondes head, standing about five feet from me. She drops, and I tuck my gun back into its holster.

~~~~~

The room is tall, but not very big. Large refrigerators span the back wall. Lack of electricity means once frozen meat has now rotted, leaving a very appealing smell. However, my mission is not in the meat. It's in the good stuff. Non-perishables.

I scan the shelves, taking my time in shoving soups, beans, pastas and even my favorite, mac and cheese into a backpack I've so helpfully been carrying. Leaving, I make sure to grab my knife from her head, wiping it on my shirt sleeve. I'll come back, later, when I'm out of food options and can properly map the human visitation of this place.

I chain up the room again, with my own lock, and spray paint the gray, lifeless walls, with three simple letters. "M.W.H."

~~~~

I chain the exterior doors again, making sure to leave a small piece of lead in the hinge. If someone opens this door, I'll know. The sun shines above, slightly right of the east. Two o'clock, maybe? My pants, safely tucked into my fabulous boots burn my legs, but I won't risk sun burns.

My walk from the factory to my home away from home is about two miles, and I crave the water awaiting my return. I grab the hastily marked map from my backpack and examine it's highlighted routes. I can make it to Highway 75 by tonight if I really try. Canada by tomorrow afternoon. I tuck the map back as soon as I spot the rusty trailer park. Rippers line the streets, and I smile at my own work.

The dingy sign at the entrance of the park reads "Rudys Trailer Park and Cottage Getaway". I take in a breath and hurry my walk towards the very back of the park, where my semi-large Type C motorhome awaits. 2018 Dynamax Corp, best in the business.

My brain filters back to another time, of desperation and home break in's. I lived by the concrete, walking to my destinations. I managed to hike two full states before finding Isla, my motorhome. She was perfect. Compact, with lots of cabinets. A breath of fresh air....

I'm forced out of my daze when I hear the trailer rustle lightly to the side. I grin and run the rest of the distance. Home, Marloe. Stop worrying. They're fine, okay?

I unlock both locks that I've wrapped around the door handles, and force open the door.

"Babies!" I scream, as I'm suddenly attacked by fur and drooling tongues. They are safe. Safe. Everything is okay.