Decay: A Zombie Story Read Online Free Page A

shells and shoved them in my pocket. At this point, I turned around, leaving my apartment and my Super. I closed the door, hoping he wouldn’t follow me.
    When I was outside, I looked for anyone that could help me. Eventually, I came across a police car, parked behind a sign for burgers on the road; probably trying to catch speeders. I ran to the car, putting my shotgun down along the way—knowing the cop would probably blow my brains out all over the road if I approached him with it.
    “Officer, please!” I shouted as I ran around to the driver’s side, only to find the door ajar and an empty vehicle. I saw the walkie-talkie sitting in the center console and immediately grabbed it and held down the long button on the side, hoping it was the right one.
    “Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?”
    I released the button and listened for a moment—static, nothing more. At this point, I realized that something had to have happened; maybe the Super wasn’t just mugged. I looked up to a dragging sound only to find the cop that likely belonged to the car. He was covered in blood and dragged his right foot as he came my way, grunting in a similar way the Super did.
    I’m not a second chance type of girl; so needless to say, I didn’t stick around to see if the cop was friendly. I took off running, picked up my shotgun, and headed to the woods.
    Wearing mostly black, now that night had fallen, I’m pretty sure nothing could see me out here. I sat down on a little rock somewhere near the highway and spotted headlights up the hill, though I’m willing to bet the cars will be in similar shape to the squad car—abandoned, maybe wrecked.
    For some reason, I kept thinking back to a religious protester from the Westboro Baptist Church group years ago. He said that the world was ending soon and that God would leave me behind because I’ve apparently made all of the wrong choices in life. I don’t know why this popped into my head.
    I never took those people seriously, nor did I care what they think. I guess this whole situation seemed a little surreal and I was just picking it out of my subconscious as some kind of coincidence. Still, I couldn’t help but think that I was left behind, and the thought scared me. Not enough to change who I am though.
    Suddenly, I heard the rustling and crunching of dead leaves not far behind me in the distance.
    I looked up and saw someone silhouetted against the lights from the highway, barreling down the hill. Shortly after, the chaotic rustling stopped and I heard a loud thud, followed by what seemed to be complete silence.
    After a moment, I approached where the sound came from. I held my shotgun up, ready to fire. Suddenly, I came across a man, probably around my age, maybe a little older, laying on the ground. He seemed to be knocked out cold.
    Laying a mere few feet away was a bicycle with a heavily-warped front tire. I deduced he was probably thrown from the bike and knocked out when his head hit a rock. I don’t know why, but part of me wanted to just walk away after everything I’d seen so far, but I decided to stay. I took a seat on a moss-covered lawn and waited for the man to wake up.
     
    TARA
    I went out to the restaurant floor; people at two tables were getting up and leaving somewhat frantically while three other tables were already empty. After avoiding the hungry and angry runaways, I went to Table 28 and greeted a sweaty, portly, middle-aged man.
    “Welcome to Georgio’s, sir, I’m Tara. I’ll be your host this evening.”
    Instead of responding, the man looked down at the table. He began swaying slowly and randomly in his seat. Unsure if something was wrong or if he was just annoyed and trying to decide what to eat; I tried to gain his attention.
    “Do you need another moment to decide, sir?” I asked while subtly waving at him.
    He started coughing and spat up blood all over his menu and the table. I stared at him for a moment, confused. Then I looked around at the other