Part I...Tommy

The hatchet was slipping in my hand. The blood covering the handle was making it hard to hold on to, but it was my only protection, and it was barely anything at that. Just a thin piece of sharpened metal between life and death. Such a feeble thing to put my hope into, but in this deserted room there was nothing else. Only me and my pathetic hatchet, My Pathetic attempt at staying alive. I could hear him coming. His footsteps were echoing throughout the cold, dark alleyway that my hatchet and I fled through. One step...How soon would he reach the door? Two steps...was there anywhere to run? There was a single door behind me, leading into what i believed to be a pet shop. Those Accursed animals, They were probably crawling with disease. So I was left with a single option, rabies or zombification? Honestly, zombification sounded like the better option at this point. Three steps...That last step took him an abnormally long time to make. He must be slowing down, or perhaps he ran into the mailman, whom tends to make his rounds about this time of day. I wouldn't worry about him; I have had my suspicions about him being a Zombie for quite a while now, delivering some sort of infected Zombie mail. There was no excess moaning or a crash so I assume that if it was the zombie mailman they have joined forces and one of them is being extremely silent. I mused upon the horrible possibility of there being two of them now, when I had hoped that when the mailman arrived he would have dealt with the other one, in some sort of strange zombie death match...either way the odds had doubled and not in my favor. It was then that I came to the realization that there was no escape. I was so racked with fear that I had stopped counting the steps, but I knew he was nearing the door. His shadow grew large against the glass, and I heard a slight moaning rising through the air. I had to go through the door at my back. The Thought of those animals crawling with bacteria sent a chill up my spine. What of the dogs? They are probably horrible starved things with a desire to devour my flesh. Frightening as it was, that was the exact same thing that the disfigured shell of a man in the doorway wanted to do. It was eminent now...I was going to be torn apart. I decided to go with the starving dogs, seeing as a dogs mouth is cleaner than a humans. I do not want to sound as if I am in support of the idea of being torn apart, but I had two options and I chose the lesser of two evils.

To Be Continued...

Part II...The Rabbit

I turned to dash through the door, but i realized i would have to turn the handle. That filthy handle. I could hear the moaning man getting closer, and the mailman. Darn, that mailman is silent. I could of almost forgotten he was there. I glanced down to the handle, cralling with germs and dirt. Although, in hindsight, dirt can't crawl, but of course now my vision is twenty: twenty. I had forgotten about the hatchet in my hand, it was my best chance at getting through the door without catching something. My Right arm has likely already caught some disfiguring disease from my poor, pathetic hatchet. After this ordeal is over I should probably get my arm amputated. It is a safety issue after all. All the while the man was getting closer, and I finally decided to hack my way threw the door. I swung quickly near the place where the lock met the wall. Once, Twice, Thee times and The door Swung open. I through myself against the door to hold that creature that was once man out, or maybe, to hold me in. The door was covered in parasites. I could see them...They were crawling all over the door, and all over me! No! Get Off! I began to scream frantically, sprinting away from the door and into the pet store. This was my biggest mistake. I stopped next to some sort of cage, for what I can only assume to be some sort of vicious wild animal. I could see the poison dripping from it's fangs as it hopped into the open. It was some sort of rabbit of death, a poisonous killer encased in a chicken wire cell for the innocent field mice it had killed over the years. All of those poor mice! Our eyes met and I could see his uncontained, unbridled rage. Could he brake through this cage, surly he couldn't, surley I was safe...what if I wasn't? I could tell this mad beast was calling me out, and with the moaning man getting closer, I had little time to decide. His eyes challenged me and I knew what had to be done. I raised hy hatchet high into the air. One swing, the hatchet cut through the wire like butter, and was stopped by the white, bony shield of this horrid monstrosity, as it secreted red poinson to ward of where my hatchet struck. Twice, It went farther into the bone, My hand graised the bone and it was soft like fur. "I will not be fooled DEMON!" I shouted with a mad fury. His trick wouldn't work, no way would i touch that poison he was secreting...Swing Three and it was over, off came the beasts head and I knew I had provailed...but where do I turn to? Where must I go? There are simalar cages and huts around me, built to hold these wretched creatures.They had seen me kill what must have been their powerful leader. I was now leader of this deadly pack. I only hoped that they would follow my lead... and that I wouldn't get rabies, or malaria from them...

To Be Continued...

Part III...Show Down

A chill slipped through the room, as the rotting man's slight moaning echoed through the pet shop. He had made it inside the door. I noticed the mailman wasn't with him, he had probably gone off to commit hideous undead acts elsewhere in this plagued city. Did the U.S. Postal service realize what a plague they brought down on this once great nation. I turned to face the dead man standing behind me...What could I do? There was no where to run, I was cornered, and worst of all, I was scared. I had to be careful now, I could not let him know I was Scarred. These things feed on fear. Well, that is to say, fear and human flesh. It was their second appetite that caused me to feed their first. I needed to think of a plan, carefully, though, could show no panic in my eyes. I remembered the rabbit beast I had slain, with it's blood like acid...I had an Idea. I spun around as fast as I could swinging my hatchet down into the creatures spine, and, just like I had hoped, it stuck. I lifted the creature into the air and swung towards the zombie; in hopes the rabbit would fly strait at that standing corpse. The hatchet had become slippery, though, and was launched with the rabbit. The rabbit with the hatchet lodge in it's back landed square in the face of that undead hooligan, bringing him to the ground. Greasy, coagulated blood leaked from the man's skull...The acid in its blood must have been working, or the hatchet had lodged itself in the man's brain. At least what once was a brain. I was safe for the moment, but now I was defenseless, and those animals have done nothing! I couldn't go retrieve my hatchet, it was covered in some sort of undead cootie by now...That spell's certain death for me. Wait! I remembered I had a back-up set of sterile gloves in my pocket. I pulled one of the gloves out and stretched it over my hand. I walked over to the undead thing that was now dead once more and removed the hatchet from his dripping skull. It took me a second of fighting to unlodge it from what it must have considered it's cosy new home. As I turned to ponder my next move I heard a strange whimpering sound. It was high pitched and almost sounded cleanly. suddenly the voice of a girl drifited up through the foggy dark that blanketed the shop. It was the most beautiful voice I have ever heard. It was more then cleanly, it was spotlessly clean. Free of any germ that traveled on audio waves. "You...You...saved me, You killed that thing," She said with a hint of the fear that second appetite brought up in her as well. I turned to look where the sound was coming from, but saw nothing but blackness. "I truly am sorry, I probably could have reasoned with it...Stupid, Stupid Tommy, always solving your problems with violence," I muttered half to myself half to this voice. I moved to see if I could find this voice. I glided gently through the darkness, my steps seemed softer than usual, did she do this? I could her her breathing, it was short and quick. It was then that I saw her. She was everything her voice made her out to be. She was a delicately beautiful creature, with skin pure and white like snow. Her lips were the most vibrant cherry red I had ever seen. It seemed almost impossible to imagine all the germs crawling on that delicate, soft skin. She stretched out her hand for me to help her up...I wasn't about to touch it. No matter how clean it looked it was riddled with germ and disease. The Other Glove! I pulled the other glove out of my pocket and slid it over my hand. I reached out and helped her to her feet. She brushed her flowing, dark hair out of her eyes. They were a bright, shocking green. Even in the Darkness...

To Be Continued...

Part IV...Cross The Road

As she stepped into the light it became apparent that her hair wasn't as dark as I thought. It was a dirty blond with a tattered strip of neon pink falling dead on one side. It seem so out of place...so dirty compared to her immaculate cleanliness. I turned to walk away, to leave this place before that blasted mailman shows up, or the dogs decide they are hungry. As I moved to leave something caught my arm. I turned to see the snag and realized it was her. I also realized all the germs crawling onto my arm, to infect me with horrid disease. I must have turned to look into those green Eyes with shock and fear, but that was what I saw returned to me. She was scarred, she was alone and terrified. She was still touching me! I had to go over my choices...i suppose it would be rude to cut her arm off with my hatchet. It is probably rusty and she'll come down with tetanus or gangrene. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I mumbled to her, "could you please stop touching me," and she did. She kind of giggled, it was nice to hear a real laugh again. I walk over to the fogged glass widows of the store with her right at my heel. I gazed out over the desolate streets, at coffeehouses and Office Supply stores, outlet malls and saloons, a gun store and a thrift store. . . I knew what i had to do. I walk to the door, with a decisive plan to move through it, when something snagged my arm again. I could feel the germs this time, crawling, oozing..."STOP TOUCHING ME!" I Shouted. She quickly let go and looked up at me with such innocence in her eyes. Her shocking green eyes. I quietly mumbled an apology. She spoke again, her voice seemed to tremble, as if it wasn't strong enough to be heard over the buzzing of the air, " I'm sorry...I...I...Just don't want to be left alone..." I attempted to reassure her I wasn't going to abandoned her, but it was too late, she began to break down and sob. I took this moment to barricade the back door, which I had so smartly, broken to get in. I usualy would be worried about the germs, but with my gloves I'd be fine. I began to pile eveything I could find against the back door; cages, the cash register, bags of food, several turtles, and some random accesories. I walked back over to the sobbing lump on the ground, and told her I was going to abandon her, just for a second. Poor choice of words on my part. She moved as if she was going to grab me again, but I jumped away. "Lock the door After me, and don't open it until I return. I left, and I intended to cross the street.

To Be Continued...

Part V...The Sweet Taste of Air

I stepped out through the door, and felt the gust of wind as it swung shut behind me. There was a calmness about this street. It had been so long sense I had tasted this sweet of an air, and I mean truly tasted it. Tasted it with a long slow breath, the flavor not tainted with fear or urgency. It was strange that I wasn't afraid. I was utterly and hopelessly surrounded by germs, and where they couldn't reach there was sure to be the undead. Yet, I walked at an easy pace, with no fear, tasting the cool clean air of the street for the first time. How was this? Was it simply that girl's doing? Did the simple act of being needed lull me into this gentle security? I felt my hand grace the spot on my arm she had grabbed. The simple act of being needed. A moaning began to drift up into the air, and, suddenly, it had a viciously bitter taste. I searched around for the source, for a hide out, for a plan. I saw it, down the street. At first one, then two. So many of them now, all drawn in by a similar sweetness in the air. Drawn in to me, by me. I didn't want to merely turn around and waltz right back to that girl. I wasn't actually sure why I left...Maybe it was the idea of being needed...The idea that I had to be strong...That she thought I was strong...I set my mind across the street at the myriad of shops. I decided on a thrift store across the street. I knew we would need food soon, and it was placed right next to the gun store, in case I needed help to make my escape back to the pet store. I sprinted straight across the street as the moaning grew loader and the air more bitter. I grabbed the handle of the door and pulled, but it was locked. The Moaning was even loader, accompanied by an army of shuffling feet. It was at this moment I realized I did not have my hatchet. Somewhere in the pet store my hatchet sat abandoned and alone. The air was no longer sweet. I could see the germs on the door...I had to get through, though, no matter what...I had to be strong. I grabbed a large rock from the sidewalk and swung at the glass door panel. Glass flew everywhere in an explosion of red. Pain shot up my arm, as what I assumed to be thousands of tiny cuts, all of the swarming with germs. Millions of diseases entering my blood stream. I unlocked the door and rush inside, alarms ringing in my ears. I needed to disinfect my hand, I needed to keep these horrid germs away from me. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, a large bottle of bleach, and dumped it on my bleeding hand. I could hear my own flesh burning as I cried out in agony. The bottle of bleach hit the ground...I needed to bandage my wound now...I ran down the isles, wincing from the pain of my burning hand, for something to wrap it up...I found gauze. I tenderly wrapped it around my hand, each little contact felt as if I was being stabbed with a knife, over and over. So what's next? I decided Food, it was why I was here after all. I went to grab a shopping cart to carry it all when I saw some plastic bags. I quickly jimmy rigged a sling for my arm and went about my shopping. After clearing out several isles of food, filling a cart and two hand baskets I came upon an isle of cleaning supplies...Tons of wonderful sterile items...The air was sweet again. I loaded up a backpack I had found with several cans of disinfectant, sterile gloves, some special sterilized saran wrap and several cans of germ neutralizing wipes. I turned to leave, and as I headed out toward the doorway I realized I was cornered...by that damned post man...

To be continued

Part VI...Post Man

A Strange quietness echoed through the store. How could such silence reverberate so violently? Maybe that was the sound of my fear, rising up through every limb, muscle and bone. I shook of a quiver of fear as I saw the postman limp through the shattered remnants of the doorway. My hand flared up in pain as if to remind me that i broke the door. I shuffled backward down the isle, my good hand leaping from shelf to shelf, frantically searching for something to throw or swing at him. In it's panic it flung object after object from the shelf. I began to back up faster as that he came closer. I was abruptly stopped by the back wall with the painful realization that i had no where to run. I glanced around the cleaning isle, grabbing the nearest object i could use against the mailman. I glanced at the shabby wooden mop handle in my hand and prepared myself to swing. I pulled my burning hand from the makeshift sling and firmly grasped the handle. I winced with pain as i lifted it high above my head. All I could do now was wait, it was the only option left. One step closer...Two...My heartbeat rang loudly in my ears as he took his third step. One more to go. I could feel the sweat of anticipation dripping down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I could feel the siring pain shooting up my arm. I could feel the slight breeze dragging bitter air against my face and into my lungs. Four. I swung the handle down with a ferocity I had never witnessed in myself, it was the fierceness that was breed of necessity, and it was power. The post man flew stumbling backwards, releasing an empty moan into the air. He fell into the shelf of cleaning supplies. Several bottles of disinfectant broke open, a dreadful shame. The moaning of the postal worker once again drifted into the empty store, as if to tell me that i had not one. To tell me that I could not win. I lifted the handle above my should like it was a spear and charged forward. I felt my lungs grow heavy and from them a loud heavy battle cried prevailed. I aimed my wooden spear strait at that beast's temple, and thrust forward with all my strength and momentum. I felt it burst through his weak and rotting flesh, shattering his partialy decayed skull and piercing into his brain. No more moaning. The pain in my hand was getting worse...I couldn't shake the feeling of those horrid germs sneaking inside. I glanced down at my shirt, horribly soiled with blood and brain matter. Germs crawling all over it. I had to change. I rushed into the shops pathetic clothing scetion tearing of my infected shirt, and diseased pants. Replacing them with a t-shirt a size too small and a pair of jeans a size to big. I walked back over to the postman's corpse, dead again, and began to undo his belt. It was my little war prize. I slid the belt into the large waste of the new jeans, and my mind was brought again to the girl, wishing I was with her, or she with me, knowing our reunion was only minutes away. I grabbed the shopping cart and head for the street. The sound of thousands of moaning voices comming from the doorway.

To Be Continued...