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...