How I Survived The Zombie Apocalypse

Chapter Four - Keep Away From The Suburbs

Chapter Four – Keep Away From The Suburbs

Brandishing my crow bar like a sword I planted my feet and tried to stop shaking. I was fucking scared. This was my first up close and personal encounter with the zombies and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

The first one reached me and I didn’t waste time, a strong swing to the side of the face and the soccer mom went down with a bang. I remember thinking wow, skulls aren’t as hard as I thought they’d be, but then I was once again preoccupied by the cannibals trying to eat me. That’s the thing with traumatic, life threatening situations. Right in the middle of it all, you always think the strangest of things.

The second one was dead but the third one tried to get back up off the floor and without really thinking it through I plunged the end of the crowbar through the back of its head. You know what happened don’t you? I knew it too, a second after I’d done it I knew my mistake. The crow bar was lodged in pretty good and the last zombie was already on me. One tug was all I got time for and it didn’t even budge.

The last zombie hit me pretty hard and I in turn hit the tarmac. It was on top of me, jaws snapping like a demented dog, its hand grabbing and pulling at my arms. It took all of my strength and a little that I didn’t even know I had to push her off me but I did it. I was quicker getting up than she was and I gave her a quick kick to the side, making her collapse on the ground. Without hesitation I began stomping on her face with all my might. Only when I saw her light pink brains spill onto the road did I stop.

Then I promptly turned and threw up. I tried to push the revulsion down but I could only block out so much in one day. That said I knew that there would probably be more zombies on the way, still gagging I turned and wrenched my crow bar from the dead zombies head and jogged to the 4x4.

I found the owner. One leg and two of his arms had been ripped off, his insides were now outsides and yet he we groaning. He tried to push himself towards me, teeth chattering, desperate for my flesh. I swung with my crow bar and put him out of his misery. It was the least I could do when he’d left the keys in the door.

It was different from my tiny old heap of scrap car back home and I’m ashamed to admit I stalled twice trying to pull out of the driveway. I’m pretty lucky, I have a good sense of direction so I knew vaguely where I was and where my way out was. The roads were deserted apart from the occasional zombie. I tried to hit as many of them as I could, I didn’t want them calling their friends and following me out into the dessert.

I was lucky for another reason too. The previous owner had packed up the car really well, I could see bags of food, clothes and camping gear in the back. That’s when I learnt something. It doesn’t matter how prepared you are, how calm you keep and the skills you know, sometimes it’s down to luck. That guy’s luck had run out, which had in turn made me incredibly lucky. The thing with zombies is, they just don’t play by the rules, they take the rulebook and throw it right at your fucking face, and then they try to eat you. They are so unpredictable, they have no fear, no concept of danger. Eventually I learnt to use that to my advantage.