In Case of Wheelchair Zombies

When the Going Gets Tough

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To case a place for supplies.

Jack rolls down with his guts falling out,

And Jill stays inside just to die.

It's not common in zombie apocalypse stories for a person with disabilities to live and guess that's going to be true of this one, as well. I've worked so hard, with the help of my friends to survive, that it's agonizing to know I've been bitten.

The back of my electric wheelchair was fitted with solar panels, so I could still charge my batteries when a rolling blackout hit. They helped me, with minimal complaining, with cleanliness issues I had difficulty with. They even outfitted my chair with guns, so I could help defend us. Now, I'm dying, and Jill didn't make it. She was protecting me. They should've...She should've left me to die.

I press my hand down,tightly, on the wound. Blood oozes out between my fingers, searching for any outlet of escape. Each bump I hit sends a surge of pain through my torso, no matter how minor. My shirt is torn, and I can see every vein surrounding the wound turning black with every beat of my heart.

The only thing holding my intestines in is the thin membrane that exists between your skin, fat, and your organs. I'm a little shocked that they managed not to penetrate it. If I can keep it intact, I may be alright.

The intense pain of my wound and the rapidly spreading virus are drowning me in sweat. My vision is bathed in a vignette of darkness, creating a dangerous tunnel vision. I'm terrified I'll hit something and flip over. I have got to make it to the bunker!

Zeds wander around, nearby, swiping at me nonchalantly as I pass. Fortunately, we were blessed with fairly slow zombies, and these won't hunt me. They can smell the death on me. The only thing that worries me is that they may try to follow me to the safe house.

I finally get into the home stretch when my wheelchair hits something hard on the ground with a loud, metallic clang. I am jerked forward, my seatbelt tearing the thin veil holding my guts inside. I gather them up, desperately, trying to keep them off the ground.

"No, no, no!"

Using my left arm like a make-shift tourniquet, I slowly drive my chair toward the bunker, screaming out the names of my group. It's not smart. I know the Zeds can hear, but I don't know what else to do.

Aditya tears out of the safe house like a bat out of Hell with his sawed-off shotgun in hand. Blood has started to bubble out of my mouth, and I can't make words work, anymore. He looks terrified for me and of me.

I catch my reflection in the window of an abandoned house near our hideout. The black blood has reached my face. The area around my eyes has bruised a deep maroon. All the pigment from my irises is gone. I am a dead man on wheels.

Aditya doesn't look like he's willing to give up on me, though. He uses himself like a meat-shield and starts blowing Zeds away. I grab him by the forearm and push him back. I shake my head, weakly. I'm dead already. There's no need to waste another perfectly good life on me.

He pushes my hand away, putting himself back between them and me. He's so stupid. Our buddy Octavio seems to share my feelings.

"Aditya, what are you doing, you idiot?"

"Jack is our friend, and I'm not letting him die out here!"

"'Not letting him die?' Aditya, look at him," Octavio growls, "he's already dead!"

I nod and do my best to choke out a few words. "'E's...right...'Mir..."

I cough, spewing blood and shooting pain all over and throughout myself. Aditya shakes his head, stubbornly, unwilling to accept it. Our friend Tanushree and Lacie watch from the bunker. Lacie's a little further out than Octavio probably wants her, but she knows her way around a Pitbull and a firearm.

I grab Aditya by the arm one more time. "I can'...wat...ch...yoo...dah..."

I cough again, losing my grip on my innards. The land on the ground between us, with a meaty splash. I scream weakly. My blood has caught the wind, and all the Zeds are coming, now.

"Go!"

Aditya is in tears. He reaches out and grabs my hand.

"Aditya," I snarl. "Go NOW!" I'm in tears, now, too. "Please..."

He hugs me hard and dashes toward the rest of the group. Octavio gives me a nod, and the girls wave goodbye. I can do no more than a weak smile.

Dying sucks, but losing your friends sucks a lot more. I never wanted to die alone, but it's better than them joining me. I hope they make it and live long, happy lives.

As the Zeds trundle past me, searching for my friends, I can't help but smile. They got away. They get to live, and I'm free! For me, there's no more stress or struggle. I can rest, now!

I don't have to worry about where the next meal is coming from or who's going to kill me! It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust. I no longer have a care in the world.

Dying feels so strange. It hurts, at first, and then little by little, the pain trickles away. One minute you're warm, and then you start to get a chill, no matter how warm it is.

The one thing I'm finding weird is, when my grandmother passed away, she said she lost her appetite and yet here I am hungrier than ever. That seems a little stran-!

Holy shit! I forgot I'm infected!

Mother fuc-!