The next day we moved out, kicking the bodies of the adults who had died at the hands of the dead. We had a few zombie kids to kill, a few more older zombies. But we just kept moving. One step in front of the fucking other. Six billion people on the planet and it had come to this?

Not one could think of the brilliant plan to bomb this city or to find a cure? At least I would be permanently dead if they blew this place to smithereens. Permanent death started sounding better and better as time went by. But the saddest part was, I didn't care much anymore. Killing had become second nature. Even the time when we met other survivors. As soon as they got bit or infected I shot them in cold blood.

Dave changed too, he wasn't as cheery. Weeks ago I would have kissed a zombie for that. Now? I needed the old him back. I was falling fast and had no life line. Oh well. Once Dave hit the bucket I was going to meet the business end of a gun. Yeah, how about that for a life goal? Instead of being a lawyer like I planned I was going to be a survivor of a deadly disease that brought people to life. Then I was going to spread my brains on cement with a pump action shotgun. Jolly glee, what I wouldn't have given for a shot of vodka. No, what I wouldn't have given for the whole damn bottle.

A week from... the incident and we managed to get close to our goal. The docks! I nearly cried again. Freedom! I was going somewhere else from this hellhole. Dad had a bank account I knew the pin to. I was going to set myself up in a safe house with food delivered to my door and no dead to worry me.

"Hell, dude, what say you?" I winced at the amount of zombies that was there. Seems a few other idiots had decided to try to swim for it. But most hadn't even made it to the water; from the look of blood spatters and the remains of half eaten corpses and headless cadavers. Dave looked at me still waiting. We were trying to think of something to do from on top of a booth. We could see the water. It was so close, between us and a small army of zombies.

"How many do you think there are?" Dave leaned on a baseball bat. We were saving our ammo. He only had twenty shots and I only had about a dozen shells. Which sucked ass. The idea that zombies were attracted to sound made using them suck. But I knew that a shotgun shell was a lot better at killing a zombie was then me swinging a cricket bat.

"About a few baker's dozen." I bit my lip, chewing as I tried to make a plan. We couldn't just make a run for it. We would die like those before us had.

"Do you think we could find something small and heavy?" Dave nodded, looking behind us. He jumped down and came back up with a rock. He tossed it in the air and caught it.

"Is this heavy enough?" I looked it over, it was from one of the many pile of debris. It looked like half a broken brick. He put his down and grabbed it, then he told me the plan. Both of us were grinning like idiots at the end of it.

Now just for a car to set to crash into a building.

Me and Dave found a good car. It wasn't locked and we only had to move a corpse's foot for the pedal. Dave started to jimmy it as I tied the brick to the pedal.

"Okay as soon as you start this shit we have to run like hell toward the booth. Hide in it until most of the dead are drawn away. Then go for the small boat at the end of the dock. That looks big enough for us. Hopefully we can set sail before any notice us." Dave nodded as I heard the car start. My heart raced as I fought my fear. I was going to attract the dead for miles on purpose... Might as well let go. With a quick glance to make sure the car wasn't on park I let the brick drop.
"Run!" I booked, my heart ready to burst. I heard the unholy moans of the dead as they heard the roar of the car. I dived, jumping into the booth with a slide. I was gasping, relieved until I noticed who was missing. My heart nearly stopped.

"Dave." I jumped up looking back. Dave was wrestling with one of the dead. Some others were heading his way, forgetting about the car. They dragged him to the ground. Their greedy hands reaching down to rip him apart. Bits of flesh and blood flew.

I don't remember jumping over the booth again. Or the distance I had to run to get to him. Only it seemed like I blinked and then I was swinging my shotgun into a zombie's head. They kept coming, one after another. I forgot about the ammo I had.

I just kept swinging. Not bothering to keep count. Even as I fell I kept fighting. It all went dark after a while. Whither it was from the coagulated blood or from unconsciousness I don't recall. Fuck Satan and his hell. This was true oblivion.

"Come on dipshit, onward ho. You are a heavy motherfucker you know that?" Wait, wasn't he dead? I thought I saw him die. Did I? I couldn't remember anymore. My head hurt, scrambling my thoughts.

I think I know understood what a hangover truly felt like. Thank god I never drank a drop. I couldn't feel my leg at all. It was numb entirely. Why was it like that? I hadn't been shot had I? I whimpered as Dave tied something over it. Just my luck, go to save butmunch and get shot in the process. So much for his aim.

Dave helped me up again. I hissed softly as I tried to ease weight off my wounded leg. I tightened my grip on Dave's shoulder and on my shotgun. Soon though I had to rest again. I was sweating buckets and breathing hard. The bite hurt too damn much. My thoughts froze, taking a great inhale. Bite? Aw hell no! Fuckfuckfuckfuck! I moaned softly holding my head. Was I going to die? Like all those B-rated horror films? Was I going to be dead? Trying to eat others like me? Fuccccckkkkkkk!

No, you weren't going to be dead. You were going to be undead. Just fucking great. Slowly we clawed our way to the boat. Dave refused to listen to my moans, my tears, my pleas for him to shoot me. He just set his jaw in his stubborn manner and dragged me a few feet until he had to stop and breathe.

It felt like hours but we reached the goddamn boat. He tossed me in first and went to untie it. We set sail out to sea. I had given up trying to talk. Just staring at the sky. I looked at him, finally numb from head to toe. He was covered in blood, and he had lost his jacket somewhere.

Had he always been that world weary? Slowly he led us out to sea, experimenting with the tiller. It took him some time to finally work the sails. I had to yell some tips at him now and then. But he worked it out eventually.

It seemed someone had tried the same thing we had. There was a bag with semi rotten food and cans. He forced water down my throat every so often as he tried to fight the fever that had set into me. Nothing worked. I still shivered as cold winds blew over my hot skin. How long until I too turned? Guess I will never find out. Because I decided to jump over board and drown as soon as I was able.

Dave had to sleep sometime.

Dave, you might feel sorry you couldn't help me. But hey, I couldn't do anything either. I'm going to be dead and you get to live longer. Chin up and keep your gun close dude. It was very nice knowing you Dave. Stay alive. That is your solemn duty to me now. Not to try to save me. I'm already dead. You? You're still living, so live dammit. So before I cry some more tears I shall write what you wouldn't let me tell you face to face. God bless you and good-bye Dave.