Decay: A Zombie Story Read Online Free

However, at the last minute, I decided to run. I couldn’t take a baseball bat to my best friend, regardless of his current state-of-mind.
    I shut the door and slid my mom’s ironing board in front of it to barricade him in. I then ran to the bathroom and opened the door. Sam, Jen and Fido were sitting on the edge of the tub, scared and unsure of what to do.
    “We’re leaving,” I insisted.
    With no other ideas, they stood up and followed me to the front door. Before we headed to the car, I took a peek outside; the yard seemed to have cleared up. Without any more hesitation, I opened the door and told everyone to run to my car.
    But as we got to the car, I tried to unlock it, realizing that I had Robbie’s keys—not mine.
    “Shit!” I shouted to myself.
    Suddenly, the same fellows from the backyard began coming around the fence.
    “Robbie’s car! Go to Robbie’s car!” I told them.
    I unlocked the car and we were off. Jen asked me what the plan was, and during the chaotic exit, I remembered Robbie’s phone conversation with his dad, and how he had the keys to the hardware store in his car. Immediately, I told Jen to take a look around. She found the key ring in the messy glove compartment and we continued on our now apparent path to the hardware store.
     
     
    KELLY
    I couldn’t believe the things that were happening. It was about two hours ago at my apartment, the Super came to collect rent—I was running a little late, but he’s an asshole anyways—or should I say he was an asshole. When he came into my place, his arm was all bandaged up. He told me he had been mugged earlier that day.
    I didn’t know what to think, nor did I really care until he collapsed in the middle of my kitchen. I wasn’t about to give him CPR, but I didn’t wish death upon him either—regardless of him being a prick. So, I did what anyone would’ve done, I called 9-1-1. There was a busy tone, a busy tone! So, I proceeded downstairs to the Mikesons, where I found an open door and a seemingly empty apartment. I didn’t know what was going on, so I went back to check on the Super—he was… gone?
    Part of me was glad he was okay, but part of me was wondering what the hell was going on in my building. I sat down at the table, trying to piece everything together when I heard a noise from the other room, someone walking around. It must have been the Super.
    I went to check it out, and I saw him stumbling slowly around my living room.
    “Are you okay?” I asked. “You were out for a minute there.”
    He turned around with a blank look on his face and began coming towards me, stumbling around and into the coffee table and tripping over himself.
    “Sir, are you okay?” I asked again.
    With no response, I began backing out of the room. I got a good look at his face and realized that no one seemed to be home.
    “I’m not paying my rent,” I said nervously. If this wouldn’t warrant a reaction, nothing would.
    He maintained his pace, stumbling towards me, reaching and grunting.
    At this point, I ran through the kitchen and made it to the pantry, where I reached for my hidden weapon, a solid shotgun and a small box of shells. As I reached for the box, I knocked it off the shelf, spilling them all over the kitchen. I grabbed a couple quickly, well aware there was one ready to go in the chamber—what’s the point in having a shotgun if it isn’t ready to go?
    I cocked the shotgun, pointed it at the Super and shouted, “Stay back or I’ll shoot!” He continued to lurch towards me and suddenly slipped on one of the scattered shotgun shells, falling face first towards me. Before I could react, he’d fallen into me and we landed with me on the bottom! I slid out from underneath his large beer belly and rolled over the shell and tile kitchen floor; all the while he’s trying to bite me, the sick fuck.
    As I made it to my feet, he reached for me, grunted loudly—almost yelling. I reached down and grabbed another handful of