I Am Zombie Bait

Chapter 1

Laying on my back in the snow. That's how it started. I was watching the soft flakes drift down lazily as I heard the sharp click of a lock sliding into place. I watched the little clouds my breathing made in the air, the chill beginning to seep through my clothes. This right here, this was an important moment. Because it was the moment I finally got mad. Really mad. Freaking fudging kick-a-random-passerby-in-the-balls mad. My hands balled up into fists, crushing the snow between my fingers back into ice and piercing my skin with a biting cold. But I didn't have time to lay there, seething in my anger and making over the top alliterations. I had to get up and find a weapon, fast. Or I wouldn't be alive long enough to question why my anger analogy involved kicking someone in the balls.

I quickly rolled over and scrambled to my feet. I was in a narrow alley between buildings. Barely enough room for a deep breath, let alone the fight for my life I was about to engage in. Then again, running away was a much more appealing idea. And also an all around smarter idea. Whatever, it was time to get the fudge out of there. Of course, that was when I saw three figures appear at the entrance of the alleyway. I heard them skid on the snow trying to stop before they all clumsily fell down. They were here already. Zombies.

Well fudge me.

So much for flight, time to fight. I glanced around quickly, trying to think of a strategy. Because those zoms knew I was there. Zoms always knew. Even with how cramped the alley was, someone had still managed to stuff a few trashcans and a dumpster back here. Not much help. I glanced beside me at the staircase. It was short, concrete, and utterly useless. It lead up to a metal door, which was now locked. But I did noticed a glint of rusty metal poking out of the snow next to the top step. A tall piece of rebar, just randomly there because why not? I quickly stepped over and grabbed it, holding it tight in my hands. And by a frosty cats hard nipples, was it it freezing cold, but it was better than what I was hoping for. I took a wide stance and faced the entrance of the alley.

The first zombie was already shakily getting to his... it's feet. Now these guys weren't the slow, shuffling zoms Hollywood like to stick in it's cheesy movies. Which was good and bad. On the one hand, they weren't totally revolting to look at. Take this guy for example. He was still roaming around in his full mailman uniform. If you ignored the fact that he had a gaunt and malnourished look about him, or that his skin was unnaturally tight and a very dull looking grey, you probably couldn't even tell he was one of the undead. Even still had his hat and mail bag. The vacant stare and constant opening and closing of his mouth were a little off, but all zoms had that. At least, until they spotted you. That's when things got bad. Because the vacantly staring mailman suddenly turns into a hunger driven cannibal that will literally tear himself apart to get a bite out of you. He will be sharp, he will be fast, and worst of all, he will be relentless.

Mailman zom finally got his feet under him before fixing me with that empty stare. The guy might not be a walking bag of rotting flesh, but that look was still enough to make my skin crawl. He lunged forward, arms reaching out for me. Strategy time. I couldn't fight off three zombies by myself, I was not a ninja. I barely applied any effort to swinging a baseball bat in gym class. Lucky for me, zoms aren't normal people. They fall easy and have a hard time getting up. If I could knock them down and deal with them one by one, I could stand half a chance. So I took a step forward to try and swing at mailman zoms head. Well, I ended up slipping on the snow piled up in the alley and my swing at his head turned into stabbing him in the stomach. Not exactly as planned, but what did it matter as long as I knocked him off his feet. How hard could that have been? Really hard as it turned out. My zombie on a stick kept lurching forward to try and get to me. I kept pushing him back because, duh, I didn't want him to get to me. I was so focused on the grasping hands and snapping teeth that I didn't notice something pretty important.