by Lizzyfuller
Sep 30, 2012 | 818 views |  0 comments | 18 18 recommendations | email to a friend | print | permalink
INFILTRATION By: Lizzy Fuller Today's the day I have waited for, for years. I feel the heft of my uncle’s shotgun in my hands. I finally get to avenge the savage murders of my family. Back then, I was too small to exact my revenge, now the unholy beasts WILL pay. I check my makeup to be sure that I could pass as a freshly-turned zombie. The odor of decaying flesh wafts from my skin. I grab a small hatchet and place it in my pack and pick up a wooden shield. These zombies are not like the movies of old. They can vomit blood, causing victims to contract the virus. The virus was engineered by scientists striving to cure kuru and Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, but interns mistakenly created an airborne strain. I open the vault-like door and leave the compound. I jump into my father’s Jeep and start toward the zombie headquarters. I park the Jeep and stagger to the dilapidated hospital. A crowd of rotting strangers joins me. The door hangs by one hinge; the zombies ripped it away when the virus was first released. I think back to that fateful day. I was thirteen and was getting ready for a date. I answered my door to receive my boyfriend. I noticed he was pale, but thought he just felt sick, until he attacked me. That was when I learned about their incredible speed and strength. My uncle grabbed his shotgun and blew his head off. I ran and hid, but my family didn’t have time to. The infected surged into our house and killed my loved ones. When I finally came out of hiding, they were gone but blood was everywhere. Once I enter the building, I load my gun and start firing into the crowd. Zombies fall left and right, but there are still too many. I run out of ammunition and switch to decapitation as means of execution. My hatchet isn’t big enough to protect myself, though. They grab me by the hair and drag me to a private room. Once there, they strap me to the bed. “Why do your people act with hostility towards our people? We cannot help what we are.” A zombie in a black tie formal suit asks me. “You kill humans!!! You used to be one. You do the math.” I say, and spit in his face. The crowd starts to surge toward me, but he waves his hand and they stop. “For your uninformed judgment you shall feel the pain of my bite.” He says. I feign indifference, but they hear my heart skip a beat and see my skin blanch. “Do your worst.” I say with false confidence. He brushes hair from my face and I feel faint. He shows his teeth in a wide, but macabre grin. As he leans over my throat, the world turns black. I feel teeth sink into my flesh. I feel the life draining out of me…. or do I…  
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