Message: To whom it may Concern
Author: Alex Dawson
Subject: Time's Up
Finally, I see that my time has run out. I write to you, my reader, that the barrier has been compromised. Now that there is only a single door to hold my attackers back, I fear there is no escape.
Why would I want to? I'd much prefer my death to be in the security of my own home. Security… it no longer provides.
I did alright for myself, surviving nearly two months in this nightmare. I knew that staying here would be the death of me, yet I took that risk. Now it is time to pay the consequences.
To anybody reading, I beseech you to find a cure. With it, you may find…a better death.
The first discolored limb smashed its way through the door, splintering the wood as the arm flailed around mindlessly. The green, rotting flesh was tearing itself against it.
I raised my shotgun, setting the sights on the newly formed hole. The owner of the limb pulled it back in and showed his face. Its eyes were dark-red, the skin around its face was peeling and turning greenish, and its hair was merely a white, stingy mop. It hissed and screamed, sending saliva through the hole.
I fired, the gunshot booming and illuminating the dark basement. The recoil jerked me back, and I pumped another round in. The spent cartridge clattered to the ground.
My attacker had disappeared, leaving only a blood stained doorway and bullet holes through the smoke. Another one quickly filled the empty void, bashing the door in a similar fashion.
I fired again, this time, hitting the door and shattering it. The top portion blew out, and crumbled to the ground. It revealed the rest of the horde, a group at least twenty strong.
I fired again, and again, and again, until my firearm was dry. I had knocked them back, but the door was now a mere entrance into my sanctuary.
I tossed the shotgun aside, letting it skidder across the cemented floor. I retrieved my prized possession, my best friend, my guardian angel…my .357 magnum.
The black metal finish shined in the dim swinging light overhead. As the zombies neared, I gently brushed my thumb over the engraved lettering "S&W .357".
"Take me home," I whispered to it. I looked up, at the closest zombie walking about 10 feet away. I raised the pistol, cocked back the hammer, and fired. The bullet ripped through its forehead, splattering a satisfying amount of blood against the walls.
The second one came, a little infected child. There is no rest for the weary, and no mercy for the evil. I felt nothing when the second shot decapitated him.
My third victim was in full sprint, but running while not save you from the almighty. After a quick shot to the face, it tumbled before me and slid to a stop at my feet.
The fourth was a zombie who had most likely already killed a survivor, judging by the bullet holes that were scattered around its chest. He would not be so lucky this time. I added to his appearance, another hole, this time in between its blackened eyes.
Number five, she seemed familiar, and after a moment I recognized her face. My wife…I guess she had finally turned. She had been bitten about a week ago, dying within a few hours. I couldn't bring myself to watch her turn, so I left her outside, to be free. Lord knew she loved me, and here she was…coming back for me.
"Honey, it's time you and I are reunited," I said in a cracking voice. She hissed and snarled, and I fired my fifth shot. She collapsed into a heap on the ground, next to the others.
I watched the blood drip from her forehead, until the zombies began closing in.
The sixth shot…I slowly put the barrel of my .357 against my temple.
Thanks for reading!
Please take the time to Review/Comment/PM or Email me with questions!
If you enjoyed this, check out my zombie fiction, "The Infected"!