50 Short Scary Stories

27. The enemy

  I flung myself through the door and vaulted the toppled, long-dead refrigerator that served as

 an ineffective barricade in front of me. My legs propelled me through the room and into the 

small hallway on the other side. I couldn't stop to eat the expired contents of the fridge, 

appealing to me despite their stench after several days without food. The shrieks of pain and 

cries for mercy around me spurred my body onward and filled me with unexpected energy in 

spite of my hunger.We were at war.I came to a halt in front of a small bathroom.A noise. 

Something behind the shower curtain.My fear heightened and images of the enemy flooded my 

mind. Merciless beasts wearing human skin, devouring indiscriminately, accepting no pleas and 

respecting no argument. Zombies.It had begun as we expected, with a virus. The original 

infected were almost a cliché. There was no humanity left in them. Just mindless rage, twisted 

bodies, and some primal urge to consume others. Our generation had prepared, with almost 

obsessive focus, for this monster. The first wave was eradicated with almost laughable ease.We 

were not prepared for adaptation. We were not prepared for the creature we bred by destroying 

the instantly recognizable zombie. A creature with more tact.Most of the first zombies were 

killed at close range, you understand, since longer range attacks were less likely to be fatal. We 

had trained ourselves, even before the outbreak, to equate "infection" with "death" when it 

came to zombies. A person "died" when their eyes clouded over and they started biting, not 

when you put a bullet in their head.The new strain of the virus still controlled the body, yes, but 

it left other faculties to the host.Maybe you could pull the trigger on a hopelessly crazed 

caricature of your best friend, your spouse, your child. But what if there was still a soul behind

 those eyes? If even as they attacked, they sobbed and screamed in their own voice? All the virus

 needed was a moment's hesitation.I bet you'd hesitate.I did.Which is why now I could only 

watch as my arm wrenched back the shower curtain and my hands reached for the cowering 

child. Why I could only beg for forgiveness before the virus used my mouth to tear ragged, 

bloody hunks from his body. Why I couldn't even vomit as my hunger dissipated with the now 

sickeningly familiar taste of human flesh.We were at war. And I am the enemy.