30 Days of Undead Summer

#FridayFreeForAll

Sorry that this is one day late! As stated in the previous chapter, I only learned about this challenge today :)

First, you had your guns. Your handguns, your shotguns, your rifles. They were loud, bullets were hard to find, and any nearby zombies would hear you. Not to mention that every once in a while, the guns had to be cleaned with substances you just don't find in nature.

Then, there were your bows. Your compound, your recurve, your crossbows. They were better, to be sure, but if the zombie didn't go down the first time you hit it, that's one arrow - and brain - gone. Plus, the arrows slowly dulled and the fletchings got torn, and now that bow and arrow shops were looted, there was no one to help you reflech them or to get new arrows.

Third, you had your blades. Katanas mostly, some pocket knives. As long as you had water and a stone to sharpen them with, they were perfect, except for one fatal flaw - the zombie would have to practically be on top of you for the weapon to work. And if you're not good enough with it, if you don't move fast enough, again, that's one brain down for the count.

All in all, choosing a preferred weapon for the zombie apocalypse was difficult, to say the least. The best tactic was to simply avoid the zombies, but that's much easier than it sounds. Imagine a search-and-rescue dog gone bad. Instead of searching and rescuing, it searches and eats. Rather than using its impeccable senses of smell, sight, and hearing for good, it uses them for very, very evil purposes.

Just like a zombie.

The surviving humans of planet Earth were quite divided on what weapons were the best to use. Moviegoers dove for the guns, television show fanatics raced for the blades, and everyone else made do with what they could.

In a world without sports and athletes, in a world without television and actors, in a world without magazines and models, the weapon of your choice was the thing you devoted your time and attention to, besides staying alive, obviously. Your weapon was your child, your best friend, and your mother, all rolled into one. Survivors would get into full-on fights using their weapons to defend said weapons because that's just how much they cared.

In a world without politics and politicians,  in a world without music and singers,  in a world without comic books and superheroes, the weapon was all that mattered.

The weapon was life.