Some things are a blessing in disguise, like the beep of a cellphone at 3 in the morning. Most of my life that would have been enough to drive me through a wall at being woken up in the middle of the night, yet tonight it was more than welcome. Tonight it brought me out of my pain killer induced coma and reprieve from the nightmares that I haven't been able to escape whenever I sleep.
Forgive my rambling but I'm still groggy and typing away is helping me stay awake. Funny the things you can get used to. Not even the booming sound of undead hands on the security gate keep me up any more.
Now, I don't want to brag but I have killed hundreds of zombies, thousands if you count the traps and counter measures used in big swarms, but hundreds face to face. And not once have I hesitated because of recognition of features or some sign of humanity. Not once did I think that one of the shambling corpses used to be a father, mother, son, daughter, friend, or really even a human. That has changed and is the cause of many of my current nightmares.
It's been close to two months now since I went out looking for my family and just over a month since I found what was left of them, yet every time I close my eyes I feel the emotions of those memories just as clearly as when they happened. The excitement I felt when pulling my bike into my parents neighborhood and seeing all the changes and precautions my family had made to the house. The pride I had felt that they had listened to me and trusted me enough to do what I'd asked of them with little or no proof. The relief when I saw that other houses had followed suite.
End the good emotions. The worry of no dead walking around or even rotting in the streets. The dread of seeing scorch marks on the locks of metal door gates, or seeing them pulled from their hinges lying on the lawns.
I pulled into my parents house and went right to the front door. Where I saw that the security gate was still intact but open, there was dried blood on the front step and wall by the door. The bars over the windows were also still intact yet the windows were all broken, from the inside.
I knew before I left that odds weren't good but I came anyway because I had to know. Yet I stood in front of that house for over an hour. Straining my ears for any sign of life, praying that I wouldn't open the door to find a horror movie scene like I have in so many houses when out scavenging.
Finally the sound came that told me it was time to move my ass, the low moan of the undead with prey sighted. I turned and found that three zombies had come closer to me than was safe to go unnoticed. Others were further away but headed straight for me, must have heard the motorcycle. I quickly dispatched the three with my sword so not to announce myself to any others in the area.
I lifted a quick prayer to heaven, nutted up and went to get my crowbar off the bike. Went quickly to the door and tried to open it, it was locked. I rammed the pry bar into the door frame with long practiced motions and had the door open in moments. A quick scan of the front room showed no signs of life but of a hasty packing job. I went back out and brought my bike into the house with me, something that has saved my life more than once on this trip. Then I started to look around, trying to find where my family had gone.
I found it right off. Written in big black letters on the fridge in block letters was a quick note that read " WENT TO MO'S DAD HAD HEART ATTACK THEN BIT MOM ARE IN ROOM COULDN'T DO IT KATIE." I see that note every time I close my eyes, feel the horror of what it meant. I tried to feel happy knowing that my sister and her children had gone to my oldest friend living only a few towns away. That when I called to tell him about the zombie outbreak he'd already figured it out and started to fortify his house. But I couldn't focus on that, only that my parents were dead or rather undead and that I couldn't leave them that way.
I did what I had to, but no amount of time will wash away the last images of my parents, bodies shrunken from being trapped for months without food. Their cloudy eyes only seeing me as meat, the stink of death. My final image of my mother, wheelchair bound for the last twenty years, shambling at me in hunger, her face sunken and dry. Lips pulled back in a snarl that showed her empty gums. Guess she didn't die with her teeth in. Dad had a few contusions on his head, guess Katie tried to save mom but couldn't bring herself to do it right.
I've never been a great shot but I have gotten much better over the last ten months. It still took a full clip to put them down, guess I kept closing my eyes.
Since then my instincts have kept me alive when coming against the undead, instincts hard won in many battles, but I will never again see them just as the mindless monsters that need to be put down.
My signal is starting to fade so I'm going to post this before it's gone altogether, will try to post again when I can. Thank you for playing the part of my shrink and listening to me even if I don't make sense. Finally thank you to google for trying to find me using my phone signal.