Untitled Short Story

Winter comes too quickly. I was just enjoying the warm days of summer. But I really don’t like staying out in the cold weather, especially with the zombies even hungrier because of lack of prey. They are pretty damn dumb, but they’re still hungrier. Circumstances have forced me to spend winter in a Home Depot. First, I had to get some of the zombies out of there; driving a bleeding deer around the parking lot and out works pretty well. I crouched on top of this portapotty, which I had cut a small window in. It’s pretty funny when they try to kill each other. This one will start biting this one that doesn’t have a left side of his torso, and eventually they’re just on the ground rolling in blood. Real damn stupid. A large crowd of them huddled around my car. An old, crusty truck, it was a pain in the ass to drive. One time a bunch of zombies were chasing me, don’t ask me how they figured out how to run, and the car started to smoke. I drove all the way to a 7 Eleven, and I jumped out the window, after I smashed it open, the button ceased to function. The car kept flying on the straight path until it hit the wall of Portillos.
The driver’s side was totaled. I just drive without it now. I ran into the 7 Eleven, and having left my tools in the car, and took out the bottles of wine they had in storage. First dummy in, smash. He’s on the floor, glass making plenty of red fluid spray out from his distorted face. The rest were felled by a succession of wine and beer bottles exploding into their body parts. I laughed when I heard them slurping up the beer from the ground.
Anyway, I’m relived that the car is gonna be gone. Maybe in spring I can go to that Ford dealer near the Home Depot. Get myself a nicer truck.
In the portapotty, I am much safer. I fortified the outside so the zombies can’t just eat their way to me. I cleaned out the toilet part and stored a few good guns in there. My favorite is the shotgun. The zombies always make a satisfying splatter when I shoot them with it. I save it for when situations get real hairy. I can fit about seven guns in that toilet. I put in mostly powerful ones so when I’m backed up by a big mob of the dummies, I can fire at them through the little window and keep them at a safe distance. Occasionally I throw a grenade at them. I keep grenades in the little side pocket of the toilet, for when you don’t have to take a shit, just pee. Got about twenty max storage. But they get real stupid when I throw them grenades. They either sit there and look at the thing all stupid, or they try to eat it. Then it explodes in their mouth. I laughed so hard I almost forgot about the guy who was right at the window, sticking his arm through it. I gave him a nice headshot, shut him up.
I snuck around them big crowd of zombies, and stood up on this tall Chevy, and shot at them a few times. Zombies try to eat each other occasionally. So a real frenzy came up once a shot them four times. They was punching and biting each other, and I got into the Home Depot really easy because all the zombies I hadn’t lured out came over to see what the commotion was about. Shooting them is so easy; all they do is stand around or move slow. I decided they’d had enough.

I collected a few Gatorades in my backpack, and a cutting knife, hacksaws; best of all, a chainsaw. I wanted to test this thing out on one of those dummies. But I had to make myself a fort on the top shelves. I proceeded to climb up them. Took me about twelve minutes, what with being bogged down all that stuff in my backpack. Grunts sounded from below me. Looks like the dummies are just walking right by without the shadow of a doubt that they might get smashed by a falling box. After I took a sight at the zombies, I sighed, as I gently leaned my body on a kitchen sink, and the poor guy’s not there any more. Just a puddle of red fluid. Too bad. The other zombies run pretty quick after they saw the dude’s eyeballs pop out. I jumped down onto the box to check him out. Believe it or not, this zombie was still breathing. The neck was still attached to the body, and his head was sticking out from under the box. I got out my hacksaw and cut it off nice and slow. He coughed up a bunch of blood, but after I was through with cutting him, he didn’t cough at all.

I’ve changed. I only kill now. This world full of zombies, I need to find someone. Someone alive. The only thing I do each day is kill zombies. There is no point for me to live anymore. I should just shoot myself, or strap some dynamite to me and blow up. I can’t keep going. Eventually I’m going to get old and they will catch up. Need to beat them to it. Beat them to the punch.

The next day I got on one of the lawnmowers and drove through a couple of dummies. Then I saw a big crowd in the distance. This was the chance. I slammed on the pedal and went flying into them, and then I hit the…

Scalpel. Where am I? More pills. Uhhh…

I was wheeled in to a big office. A speaker was barking at me for incompetence or something like that. I wasn’t supposed to be committing to these sorts of thoughts; I was supposed to be training, not thinking. I felt like I was a ghost. I couldn’t feel anything. I was training for war, I wasn’t…I wasn’t supposed to be emotional. I shouldn’t have been laughing at those zombies; I was supposed to kill all of them, every single one. All of them. Kill them all. But I didn’t. I was going to be rebuilt, so I could be what they wanted me to become. A…