My Cold, Dead Hands (#Wattys2015)
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- Parts 7
When Russia decides to invade Eastern Europe, they show off a new bio-weapon bomb. Any unfortunate soul caught in the blast enters into a zombie-like state of mindless hunger. After the world witnesses what this bio-weapon bomb can do, America is the first to stand against Russia and sends troops over to Europe to drive them back, despite Russia's threats of full nuclear warfare.
Enter Vincent Walker, a correctional officer in the small community of Lakeside City, Michigan. The county jail is in the basement of the building, making it an ideal place for shelter when the bio-weapon bombs and nukes start dropping. With a stroke of luck, Vincent emerges nearly a year later to discover a world in white ruin, the environment so damaged by the war that the only season that exists is winter. The vast majority of the human race have been wiped out and replaced with flesh craved zombies and monsters mutated from the nuclear fallout.
This is the story of a man's survival against all odds. In order to stay alive, he'll have to make choices that will make him question his very soul. This is survival of the fittest; there is no room for the weak.
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When the warehouse disappeared behind the trees, he slowed down a little. The snow quickly coated the ground, and he could only hear the crunching of snow as he walked. He walked and walked, and soon his hoodie provided little protection, as cold seeped through the fabric and froze his skin. He started to shiver, and he rubbed his hands over his arms to try to and warm himself. As he continued to walk, he didn't feel like himself, he felt like someone else was willing his legs to continue moving. His lips turned blue and he tried to curl his toes, but they wouldn't budge, and even though he was still walking, it didn't look the tiniest bit graceful, as he stumbled with each step forward. He stopped shivering, and he didn't even notice he stopped walking, as he looked up into the sky again. His eyes felt droopy, and his eyelashes fluttered as snowflakes threatened to land in his eye. He slowly teetered on the spot, then came crashing down onto the snow. He didn't even flinch at the impact, more like he couldn't. He didn't bother to move, and continued to stare up into the sky. His eyes threatened to close, but he tried to keep them open. Soon, the beautiful sight of the snow was robbed from him and replaced with darkness, as his eyes finally closed. Everything was silent for a little while, before being disturbed with more footsteps.
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