Walkers (A Short Story)

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They all look up to me, I'm their leader. I don't know why, I've never been much of the leader type, not athletic not brave not the type of person you'd want to protect you during an apocalypse. But still they chose me as their leader, me the girl who barely got of the couch pre-apocalypse. I never saw it coming. A zombie apocalypse, that's just something that happens on tv. When the apocalypse started I thought it was some Halloween joke, something a bunch of high school kids came up with to scare people. I wish I was right.
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This was written for the dream competition. I had this dream after binge watching The Walking Dead, so this short story is loosely based off of it.

1. Walkers

They all look up to me, I'm their leader. I don't know why, I've never been much of the leader type, not athletic not brave not the type of person you'd want to protect you during an apocalypse. But still they chose me as their leader, me the girl who barely got of the couch pre-apocalypse.

I never saw it coming. A zombie apocalypse, that's just something that happens in cheesy movies and tv shows that are dragged on for way too many seasons. When the apocalypse started I thought it was some Halloween joke, something a bunch of high school kids came up with to scare people. I wish I was right.

We call them walkers. I don't know who came up with the name, some people started saying it and it caught on pretty fast.  They can only be killed when their brains are destroyed. A shot to the head or a quick blow through the brains is enough. If they bite you, you'll turn. You'll become one of them in a matter of days. Most people who are bit kill themselves before they can turn. At first we thought there would be a cure, some kind of medicine you can take to turn back. Become human again. But after several years of nothing, we've given up hope.

Alongside my boyfriend, I found a campground I deemed perfect to stake out at until the apocalypse was over, if it was ever over. My group and I found tents and other supplies at a sports supply store for shelter and to help take care of ourselves. An old minivan was our only means of transportation.

In the time we spent at the campground other groups came, some were friendly some were not. We would live alongside the friendly ones, sticking to our own groups, but knowing they were there if we ever needed them.

Those times when we needed them come when an unfriendly group would show up. They wanted to take over our campground, so they would come to fight. And that's what we did, we never lost.

Lately things have been going well, no one had tried to fight us for our camp. We built a sturdy fence around our camp with the help of the other groups. It creates the perfect border between us and the walkers who want nothing but us.

There is a washroom on the far side of the camp close to a fence, I have been meaning to check it out for months but haven't gotten around to it. Today is the day I stop procrastinating, I check it out to see if it is at all useable. I decide to go alone, my baseball bat in hand. Going places, especially new places, alone is never a good idea these days. But instead of listening to the voice inside my head screaming don't go, I carry on alone.

I get to the washroom they used to call a comfort station when the campground was running and walk up to the door. When I get to the door I press my ear against it and listen. I hear a bit of movement inside, it sounds like people shuffling around in a circle. Walkers. I press my body up flat against the wall next to the door and slowly open it. With a creak the door is open.

After a couple of seconds three of the ugly rotting creatures that used to be just like me stumble out. I wait quietly for them to get a few feet ahead of me. I poke my head in the bathroom door, empty. I slowly creep up on the creatures and hit them in the head with my bat, one hit and they're down. Three swings of the bat and I am in the clear.

I walk back to the bathroom to check the stalls and the condition of the bathroom. Hoping it is in working condition so this whole trip wasn't a waste of time. It's dark in the bathroom, lights don't work anywhere in the park. One of the other groups has an electrician who is working on trying to get us some power. I pull the flash light out of my backpack and use it to see inside the stalls, empty.

I feel a tug on my ankle and I fall face first onto the dirty cement floor. I kick at the mutant human as it scratches at my legs, this is why we all wear pants. I swing my bat behind me and hit the attackers head, one hit is all it takes. I get to my feet just as another one grabs me from behind and another comes towards me from the front. The one on my back grabs at my backpack trying to find skin. Reaching behind me I hit him with my bat, just missing his head. Enough to get him off, but not enough to kill. I forget about the one on the ground for a second to deal with the one in front of me. Too close to get a good swing at his head. I hold the bat in front of me with one arm as a shield, while my other hand reaches behind me to the gun I keep in the side pocket of my backpack. I pull it out just as the one on the floor starts grabbing at my legs.

I point my gun at the one in front of me and pull the trigger, just as the one below me pulls itself up using my backpack as a handle. It pulls me back slightly causing my arm to move as the bullet flies out of the gun missing the target by a fraction of an inch. The same fraction of an inch that the creature pulling itself up on my back caused me to move. That movement causes me to drop my gun. The one behind rips at my body trying to get its mouth to the exposed skin on my neck. I hold the one in front with my bat. I'm stuck my bat holding one zombie back while the other attacks me from behind. My gun out of reach. I kick at the one behind me trying to knock it off balance. Just as I kick a knee and it begins to fall, it's teeth sink into my neck. It's inevitable now.

With the one off my back, I pull the bat back towards me, reposition it quickly. And hit the one it front of me in the head, one hit is all it takes. I turn around and jam the bat down hard on the other ones head.

I pick up the gun that had been tossed across the room and pick it up. I sit on the dirty cement floor and lean my back up against the cold cement wall behind me. I hold the barrel of the gun up next to my head. One thing left to do.

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