A short story

I stepped outside, the dusk sun a descending bright orange ball of heat. I could feel perspiration's looming threat. I have been doing this for almost a year now, yet I am still a bundle of nerves before receiving my assignment.

Who will it be today? A straying housewife? A student who cannot pay his study loans? Perhaps an animal abuser who gets his kicks from an innocent's suffering?

It matters not, i suppose. As long as their name is on my list, they will be receiving me in short order.
I trudged along to my car, a silent presence, undetected and overlooked in the throng of humanity. My eyes scanned the road, instinctively looking for threats. It has become a natural action now, to drive defensively and avoiding attention. I became just another driver, commuting about our daily lives, immersed in the rat race.

Day in, day out, the routine was stifling. But it is a living, in a mundane sort of way. I wished mine was the same. I have seen enough of humanity's darkness.
I pulled up at the sidewalk, a discreet distance so as to avoid the pungent fumes emanating from the pipeline. With a languid gait, i made my way into the back entrance, avoiding prying eyes. The Management frowned upon us being seen by the public.

The place was a cacophony of sound. Men screaming at each other, yet giving no offence and taking none. The familiar brotherhood of our organisation relaxed me somewhat, and my lips creased into a small smile.
"Oi, you!" a beefy man rumbled, his cigarette pointing in my general direction.

I eyed him, waiting.

"About bloody time you got here. Your assignment is waiting round back. Don't be dragging your feet about it either, boyo," he continued, once he knew he had my attention. His arms never stopped moving. Hands toughened from years of hard work in constant motion. The same hands could snap a neck in a single motion, of that, i had no doubt.
I waved at him in acknowledgement and sauntered to another room. This one was quieter, calmer. A few people milled about, shuffling paperwork that was a chore, yet necessary, quite necessary, in our line of work. You simply could not trust computers in this day and age.

A well-dressed man approached me, disdain obvious on his face. I knew people like him. People who looked down on us yet knew they needed us to get the job done, never dirtying their cuff-linked hands to do what's required of us.
He handed me a set of keys along with a palm-sized piece of paper.

"Here's your assignment. Don't mess it up, and don't be late," he ordered, his tone clipped and his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Yessuh," i drawled insolently. A man is judged not by how he treats his betters, but his lessers. Mr. Cufflinks obviously had not learnt this lesson. But he will, one day. Perhaps i would be the one to teach it to him.

The thought amused me, and i shot him another impudent grin before walking out.
I studied the slip of paper in my palm, jiggling the keys. Hmmm, not too far today, i mused. Cufflinks need not have worried, there will be no risk of me completing the job late.

A bell was rung, catching my attention. My eyes were drawn to an attractive brunette who smiled at me impishly. She was petite, reaching only my shoulders. A proportionately buxom figure that her crisp black dress shirt failed to hide appealed to me. Immensely.
She grinned, catching me in the act and took pleasure in it.
"Like what you see, buster?" she asked while putting a hand on her hip.

"You know i do. You're the reason i continue to do what i do," i replied, blowing her a kiss.

She laughed, a musical sound at odds with the sounds of the bustling room.

"Yeah, yeah, flattery will get you anywhere. Here's your package. Be careful, i wouldn't want to stop seeing that pretty face of yours dropping by," she winked at me as she passed me a box. It contains everything I will need for this job.
I blew her another kiss and exited the building from the same back entrance.

Making my way towards my assigned vehicle, i passed a street bum who looked at me consideringly. I knew he was tempted to call out for alms, but the hard set of my jaw and the flinty look in my eyes convinced him otherwise.

I studied him in return. He was skin and bones, the street life has toughened and darkened his skin into a leathery look. Dull eyes hungry for food, desperate and fearful.
I had the power to end his suffering. With a twist of the box i held, i could ensure that no hunger pangs would trouble him this night. It was tempting, but i held back.

It was not yet his time, and i had a job to do. I could not indulge in my whims and neither was it my place to end his suffering.

I moved on.
I found the vehicle that i was given the keys to: a nondescript motorcycle that could easily blend in with and navigate the rush hour crowd.

I knew this particular neighbourhood like the back of my hand. The apartment complex was home to the middle class. I wondered briefly what my target does with his life, and pushed the thought out of my head.

It had no bearing on my job, and it will not help me in any case. I started the engine and made my way into traffic, another anonymous commuter.
I arrived at the apartment with time to spare, but was stuck behind a few vehicles that security insisted on checking before allowing entry. I checked the id card i carried for such purposes. Apartment security is easy to get around if you knew what you were doing.

Rent-a-cops like these were bored and unstimulated. What do you expect from people earning minimum wage? If you think you can rely on them to provide security, you are dead wrong. Or you might just be dead.
Finally, after precious minutes have gone by, it was my turn.

"Yes, what do you want?" the security person asked in a bored tone.

"Special delivery, for apartment B 24-6," i replied confidently, an easy smile on my face.

"You can leave it with us, we'll take it to them," said the guard. Blast, i hate it when they do that. I glanced at my watch surreptitiously, i had 5 minutes before the deadline.
"Nah, it's alright. I need him to sign off on it, and he's expecting me. I don't want to be late, bro. Please? " i cajoled in a pleading tone. These types love it when you acknowledged their importance and pandered to their ego.

He thought for a moment, then he gave me a nod and buzzed me in. Yes, I am in!

I parked my bike underneath a tree and proceeded to the elevator. I was very nearly late.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I had to maintain my calm as i strode quickly to the unit.

I rang the bell, heart beating fast, package at the ready.

The door swung open, a middle-aged man peered out at me. I looked him in the eyes and saw surprise, denial and finally, acceptance.

"You're very nearly late. I thought I'd be able to escape paying for this," he said with a mockingly sad smile on his face.
"Well, i was kinda worried about the time too, but as you can see, sir, right on the minute," i grinned, passing over the package.

"Enjoy your pizza, sir!" i said cheerfully, walking unhurriedly back to the elevator lobby.

Mission accomplished!

Gotcha!

Hehe

Sorry for the lame ending but inspiration hit me to write about a pizza delivery in a hired killer setting that i must put pen to paper (or finger to screen, as it were) my thoughts today.

I guess that's that...

I have found myself unable to continue to write this story as I feel totally dissociated from it. It was easy to write and immerse myself in the world for a time, but then something changed and I just couldn't carry on.

So, I do apologise.

I shall continue using this blog as my "creative writing" project for my entertainment. I can't guarantee I can complete any of the stories, but if you do read, well, comments are always welcome!

It's not over...

Hey guys

sorry for the absence of new posts.

I was really busy at one point and now having one of my down spells. I'll get back to writing when i can. In the meantime, Diary of a Cat's Slave should still be a weekly thing.

Be back soon!

Entry 14 ~ Escape! And More Questions

2015
19 August 2014
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: Human beings are the only species capable of creating conspiracies.

~~~

I spent four days in captivity. Food was delivered twice a day by Face in the Window. All attempts at conversation were blithely ignored, as he backed me away from the door with a gun and set the tray down. There was a toilet attached the the room, much to my pleasure and surprise, though it came with barred windows.Sounds of gunfire erupted

Yesterday night, the routine was broken when Older Man stepped into the room after my meal. By then, the battery of my tablet had ran out, and I am now transcribing the interview from memory:

• Older Man: Hello. I am sorry for your nasty experience the last few days. It was necessary though, so I trust you haven't much to complain about everything.

• Me: I'm not sure what's going on, mister. All I know is I'm out looking for fellow survivors of the Problem. Is there a reason for my captivity?
• Older Man: Why yes, yes. I apologise for the rough handling. We had to ensure you were not infected by the zombies. All precautions must be taken to keep us safe.
• Me: Fair enough, I can understand that. How many of you are here? I'm amazed to have found you, honestly. I was worried I'm the only normal human left.
• Older Man: Some of us are of the same family. We bumped into fellow survivors and established our base of operations here. It was a bit of a shock to have found you. Tell me, how did you survive?
• Me: (Some caution must be exercised here, I haven't a clue who these people are). I am not much of a people person, and basically when the authorities said to stay home during the curfew, I stayed home. It's just me now.
• Older Man: I see. It is heartening to see another healthy human. I hope you will enjoy joining our group.
• Me: Uh, was that an invitation to join forces?
• Older Man: *chuckles* You could say that. Though you will have to stay in this room for the time being.
• Me: Wait, am I a prisoner?
• Older Man: Good heavens, no! Why would you think that? It is just for your safety for now. 

At this point, the interview ended, and Older Man left the room and closed it behind him. I don't really care what he said, but it sure sounded like I was being kept a prisoner. But, prisoner for what? It was not as though we were at war with each other, seeing as how the other side were basically zombies. Humans should be sticking together. I suppose they could be keeping me in quarantine in case I was infected, but if so he should have mentioned it. My spidey-senses were tingling.

My belongings were still with me, even my pistols, so that was heartening. I had previously tried knocking on the door, only to be ignored so I was not sure if there was anybody on the other side. I tried again this morning, no response.

I did not fancy remaining a forced guest in the mosque (I had peered out the window of the toilet by painstakingly straining my arm muscles to pull myself up to reconnoiter the surroundings). There was an uneasy feeling of paranoia that surrounded me.

My first meal arrived as per usual. Once again, I tried to engage Face in the Window in conversation and had no luck in eliciting any response other than a frown. Determined to leave the room, I left off eating my food as late as possible so I would have strength for what I had planned when my second meal was delivered.

Belongings packed, I consumed my rations an hour before the usual evening delivery. When Face in the Window knocked on the door and told me to back to the side, I backed to the side...of the door. The door opened and the muzzle of a gun, I was pretty sure it was a rifle, appeared and he stepped in. Before he could notice I was not in my usual place, I grabbed him and pulled him in. Then I placed the barrel of my six-shooter to his head and told him to keep quiet if he valued his life. I know, very Hollywood of me.

I made him put the food tray down and hand me his gun, warning him that any overt noises would result in a loud bang. Taking a chance, I backed us both out of the room, him in front of me, with me holding on to the collar of his shirt with one hand, pistol aimed at his head in the other. The corridor was empty. I made him open the main door and was glad to see that my car where I had left it. The engine was off but I was confident that it had died after I was taken away from the car with the keys in my pocket. It was one of those nifty security features of the Vellfire where the car died if the key was not in close proximity to the vehicle. Of course, it might have died from running out of fuel after I left it idling, but life was about taking chances. The grounds around the mosque was clean, belying the fact that the last time I saw this place, we were about overran by zombies.

Taking a leaf out of the movies I've watched, I clubbed him at the back of his head with the butt of my gun. Unlike the movies though, he did not collapse unconscious, just stumbled away from me. I apologised to him and kicked him in the nuts. I felt bad, really, but I was worried what these people had planned for me.

I ran for my car, got in and pressed the ignition button. It revved to life. Gasping in relief, I sped away from the site of my incarceration without looking back. I've had enough of my fellow humans, especially this group.

During my escape, I kept an eye on my rearview mirror, making sure nobody was following me home. I arrived at my Headquarters without incident, and hurried back home. My furry companion greeted me with an exuberant welcome and I settled down to recover from my capture and to analyse the incident.

Who were those people? That they had wanted me alive was no doubt, but what did they want with me? And why did they feel the need to keep me imprisoned instead of as an active pair of hands to help with their...whatever they were doing? Should I continue looking for fellow survivors?

End log.

Entry 13 ~ Be Careful What You Wish For

1940
14 August 2014
Location: Unknown

Reflections: Sometimes, you have to bear in mind that even though you are happy to meet someone, the feeling may not be mutual. Many unwanted guests thrive by ignoring this.

~~~

The last few days have been uneventful, it seems adequate that they were summarised in a few quick paragraphs before I proceeded to the meat of this log entry.

Following the interlude, I rested a couple of days to regain my strength. At the same time, I managed to attach a loudspeaker to the roof of my MPV, with a pre-recorded message in Malay for any humans to reveal themselves or to proceed to the safe house I prepared. I had to choose Malay as there is a limited message length to be recorded and it was the language that most people in Malaysia would understand. I hope. I've changed my mind about directing any potential survivors to either of my hideouts, so I set myself to secure the Sri Serdang Police Station as a safe house. Although I had previously broken the lock, I managed to keep the doors closed by curling a chain between the handles of the double front door. Simple enough for a human to undo, yet reasonably zombie-proof. Inside, I prepared a cache of supplies: food, water and weapons in the form of golf clubs. Naturally, I removed the corpses of the zombies and set them on fire.

The last two days, I have been driving around random areas closest to home with the loudspeaker playing my message. Thus far, nothing significant had occurred. I had decided to start slow and to increase my patrols from there.

Today, I ventured out of the Seri Kembangan area and made my way to Cheras. There were a lot of residential areas here and I was leery of going into uncharted territory. But it had to be done. Cruising around Taman Segar,  I spotted one of the armed escort vans usually accompanied bank security officers in reloading the ATM machines. Hmmm....

Coming to a stop, I turned the loudspeaker off and stepped out, hoping for stuff to scavenge. Gravel crunched beneath the Timberland boots I had appropriated from their outlet in The Mines. The sound was unnaturally loud in the silence of the dead neighbourhood. Before any scavenging activity, I ensured that no unpleasant surprises awaited me by making sure all the corpses were rotting and that no movement could be seen from the horizon. I reasoned that there was no sense in blaring my horn to startle any zombies, my looping message should have alerted anything alive or undead of my presense anyway.

The security van looked largely intact, though I could see dents on the side where something or somethings had obviously been pushed against the frame. The window on the driver's side was smashed and there was the dark brown of dried blood on the seats. No bodies though. I knocked my club against the side of the van to see if there was any answering sound from within, and opened the back door of the vehicle. The pungent odour of rot wafted to my nose, concentrated from being kept in the air tight compartment. I retched at the side noisily. Any creature that would have attacked me at that time would have found me easy prey.

I shone my torch into the interior of the van, and found a dead officer. Much to my delight, I also found a shotgun, much like the one I inconveniently broke against the face of a zombie a few weeks back. Holding my breath, I retrieved the gun, and grave robbed the dead body for ammunition. I found shotgun shells and some bullets for my revolvers. Weird, the former security officer did not have a revolver in his holster. A search of the van also failed to unearth any other weapons. Nevertheless, the shotgun was a capital find. With the 6 shells I already had at home plus the dozen or so that I had just liberated from the van, I had reason to feel happy.

I loaded the shotgun, and kept it in the passenger seat of the car. I had no experience firing a shot gun and there will be need to practice, in the safety of my headquarters anyway.

I continued my journey, and it was at Taman Len Sen when I decided to stop in a safe, open area for lunch when I heard a faint noise. The loudspeaker and closed windows had all but ensured I would not hear it otherwise. The sound was familiar, but very vague and too faint for me to recognise it. Hastily gobbling my food, I started my engine and promptly lost the noise. I would have to drive towards it and hope I can find it.

The loudspeaker was off this time, as I did not want to risk not hearing the sound, yet was too paranoid and unwilling to keep my windows rolled down. Minutes later, I caught the sound again and realised it was the Azan, the Muslim call to prayers. A quick glance at the clock showed that this was no time for prayers, which meant someone had to have set the Azan playing outside of the appointed time, or was singing it in person. Depending on the mosque, the call to prayer could be live or pre-recorded. Either way, this could mean that there were fellow humans out there.

Taman Len Sen was not a place I am familiar with, and it took me a while to locate the mosque. There was definitely somebody playing a pre-recorded call as it was going in loop, much like my own message was. I honked loudly and continuously at the mosque, not daring to alight from my vehicle. After a minute or two, the Azan was cut off. I waited in the Vellfire for the door to open, and after some time. a head poked out of a window on the upper floor of the mosque.

I wound my window down and asked if he was still human and healthy. In retrospect, it was stupid question. The youth, or boy really, responded that he was indeed human and healthy, and apparently not all too delighted to see me. That struck me as weird, though I was elated to see a human face again that was not trying to eat me.

We continued our conversation, from car window to mosque window. Here is a transcript of the conversation:

Him: What are you doing here?

Me: I'm looking for fellow survivors, of course. Are you the only one there?

Him:No, I'm not.

Me (to myself): Not very forthcoming, is he? You'd think that in current circumstances, he'd be happier to see a fellow human and not be so reticent.

Me: I'm really happy to hear that! Do you need help? I haven't met another human for a long time! Is it okay if I came in? (Under normal circumstances, this would have been a horrible faux pax, as I was not a Muslim and I understand it is frowned upon for non-believers to enter a Mosque for no reason. But these are hardly normal times, eh?)

Him: No, go away! You shouldn't be here!

At this point, the head disappeared and the window closed. Nonplussed, I sat there in consternation while pondering my next move. The call to prayer startled me out of my cogitations and I noticed that there were moving figures coming towards the mosque. A lot of them. This could be a Problem.

Deciding rashly, I grabbed most of my gear, sans shield and shotgun, and left the Vellfire. I ran to to mosque and started hammering on the door, demanding that they come out. My vehicle should be enough to save them and get away.

My cries were ignored, and one of the faster moving zombies had caught up to me. I backhanded the zombie (that hurt!) from me and broke its jaw with my club. Fuck, I didn't have my shield with me and there were at least another four of them between me and my car. It would be ironic that I would meet my end while trying to save my fellow human. I backed up until the door was right behind me, and took a ready stance. Before the zombies managed to get within striking distance, I felt the door open and shots rang out beside my ear. Rough hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into the mosque before shutting the door.

I saw the face from the window glaring at me. An older man said something to me but I was still deaf from the shots. I shook my head and tried to speak. There was a sharp pain and then darkness.

I had just awoken in a small room, which smelled musty but appeared clean. My belongings were still with me, with a piece of paper saying to not speak, make noise or attempt to escape, for my own safety. The back of my head hurt from the cheap blow to it. I have no clue what I had gotten myself into.

Heeding the warning on the paper, I settled down to wait and extracted the spare Surface from my backpack to draft this entry in case something were to happen to me. Both the tablets have copies of previous log entries so at least they would still have access to my information even if they decided to kill me.

End log.

Entry 12 ~ Interlude

2030
6 August 2014
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: Doubts can paralyse you. Sometimes, it is necessary to simply pull a Nike and "Just Do It!"

~~~

I have spent most of the previous week sick at home from a bad batch of cans. Boy, was I glad there was no botulism involved. While down with the bug, I had the opportunity to plan my next moves. There had to be a careful balance between finding fellow survivors and to ensure that no harm came to myself by letting stragglers in. I had no illusions about the kindness of my fellow human beings when resources are scarce and the fact that my prowess in self-defence was not on the top of my list of abilities.

I had decided to extend my forays in the open to cover as much ground as possible. To spread the message that I am a healthy human to other potential survivors, I needed to obtain loudspeakers to attach to the top of my MPV, and also spray paint to leave messages at various areas. Both of these were easily obtainable from another trip to the Mines.

The problem here was destination. Where should I direct the survivors to meet up? HQ Alternate was going to be my little secret, so the only available option now was to clean up the apartment on the 20th floor that I raided and prepare it for visitors. This way, I can maintain a barrier between the refugees and myself.

I made the trip to The Mines today and obtained the equipment I required, as well as additional food supplies without incident.  To avoid exhaustion from my sickness, I limited myself to designing placards to place at the lift lobbies of my apartment complex to direct people to the unit on the 20th floor. My next step would be to clear the corpses and store some supplies in that apartment, hereby designated Refugee Home.

Once my strength is up, I shall begin my exploration to see if anybody else survived the Problem outbreak.

End log.

Entry 11 ~ New Developments

2225
27 July 2014
Location: Apartment 0

Reflections: Do not assume, for it makes a potential zombie out of you.

---

I went on a perimeter patrol this morning: securing the various entries and sweeping the courtyard. I was reasonably confident in my shooting now, though practice had left me with a mere 56 bullets; not much to take on the world.

Much to my shock, one of the elevators showed it was at 20. Remembering the close encounter I had when securing the stairways to that particular floor, this left me feeling nervous. I had barely survived my previous run in with two zombies.

It was doubtful that the zombies retained any higher brain function to use the elevator. Of course, here was a possibility of them accidentally pressing the button...

Well, there was no way I could ignore this. I brought the elevator down to me and it was...empty. Curiouser and curiouser. I then made my way to the eastern stairwell (the one nearest to the parking lot) and climbed up to the 20th floor.

Stopping to catch my breath, I listened as hard as I could for any signs of "life" on the other side. My previous experience placed the zombies on the western entrance so it was a calculated gamble on my part. I pried the shims out of the gaps of the door silently, readied my weapons, and turned the knob.

I was ready for an immediate onslaught of attackers. Mercifully, it was a peaceful and quiet entry. I peered cautiously down both ends of the corridor before shutting the door behind me. There was a curve in the corridor between the eastern lift lobby and middle to western, so I had to advance to reconnoiter the whole walkway. The sun was in my eyes, but I managed to glimpse two upright figures standing at the far end of the corridor.

My heart stopped for a beat before I realised they were unaware of my presence. I was leery of confronting two zombies simultaneously again, especially with a lack of an easy retreat. However, it was inevitable that I attempt to secure the complex and stop having to worry about these two clowns sneaking up on me at a later date.

Gritting my teeth in determination, I drew my pistol and walked towards the two figures. About 15 yard out, I shouted at them to get down if they were human. No luck, both started sprinting towards me. I took careful aim and took one of them down with 6 hits, all of them body shots though. Nevertheless, it went down. I holstered the pistol and braced for the remaining zombie.

I took the impact on my riot shield and shoved back at it, dropping the zombie to the floor. I stepped on its chest and swung my 9 iron against its head once, twice and thrice until it stopped struggling. Satisfied it was dead, I saw the one I shot limping slowly towards me, teeth bared in a morbid parody of a smile. I took its jaw out with a well-placed swing of my club. This was deliberate on my part, as the zombie was slowed enough by its wounds for me to take my time. I watched it trash on the ground, blood leaking from the de-jawed face. It took a good 5 minutes for it to die, presumably from blood loss.

The danger over, I reloaded my pistol calmly. I had both gun belts on, with the other pistol positioned slightly behind the one I drew. There was no point in me keeping it on the right, as after repeated practice found me abysmally unsuited to a right-hand draw. I was down to 50 shots now. Gotta be careful with how I spend them.

The corridor secured, I walked to the elevator which I had found to be on 20 earlier on (it was the middle lobby). If the zombies were at the end of the corridor, then it stands to reason somebody, or something, operated the elevator. I checked the apartment units near the lobby. All but one were padlocked and shut. The exception had the grill wide open but the inner wooden door shut.

I walked into the doorway and knocked loudly and shouted through the door. No response. I tried the knob but it was locked. Not wanting any surprises, I closed the grill behind me and went to work with my crowbar. On my third heave, the wooden frame gave way and the door slipped open.

The apartment looked very homely. A well-worn sofa dominated the living room, facing a smallish tv set. I stepped inside, and saw a gruesome sight. Two bodies were in the bathroom: a woman and child. They were fresh, not yet decomposed. The floor of the bathroom was stained in the dark brown of dried blood. Cautiously, I handled the bodies and found bite marks on the arms of the child. His neck was slit open, explaining the blood. The woman, his mother, I assumed, hung from the wall in a home made noose of cloth sheets.

Sickened, I surmised that the child must have been bitten by a zombie somehow and rather than risking him turning, the mother killed him and committed suicide. They must have been the ones who used the elevator. Guilt hammered at me as I wondered if I was the cause of their death by blocking off the stairwells and forcing them to use the lift. Healthy human life was so near me, yet I only found them when it was too late.

I staggered from the bathroom and found myself on the floor outside, sobbing quietly. In remorse? In self-pity? I do not know.

Minutes later, I pulled myself together. What was done was done. I had to be practical. Since I was already here, I decided to scavenge the place for something useful. There was a shopping bag filled with food stuff in the kitchen, obviously they had been on a food run when the attack occurred; I piled the food into my backpack. I felt guilty, but there was no sense in putting things to waste.

I checked the store room and found nothing much of use. The middle room looked slept-in. This was obviously where they spend their nights. Why not in the master bedroom? I opened the door of the master bedroom and let out an embarrassing yelp of surprise as I saw the body of a dead man lying near the door. I suppose this was why they had not slept in the master bedroom, and who could blame them?

There was not much to look at in the master bedroom, but I did find a set of car keys. These went into my pocket, they will come in handy. Something nagged at the back of my mind, there was something wrong with this picture, but I could not quite put my finger on it. Lost in thought, I neglected to watch my step and tripped on the corpse at the doorway. Cursing angrily, I thought I saw something, but dismissed it from my mind. I must've disturbed it when I tripped.

I found my feet and returned to investigate the living room. The sound of feet scuffing against the floor made me whirl around. I stared in shock as the "dead" man slowly got to his feet, shaking himself as if to clear his head.

What the hell?

The man caught sight of me and grinned at me. Except the grin was accompanied with a growl. Shit!

He charged me, closing the distance between us quickly. I had stupidly left the golf club near the grisly bathroom when I thought the place was safe. Thankfully I still had my shield and I used that to catch the creature's charge and flipped him over me into the tv. I sprinted towards my golf club but the zombie somehow recovered and had its hands curled around my ankle. I went down.

Bared teeth sought my foot and I kicked at it frantically with my other foot. My crowbar had slung forward and I somehow managed to untangle it from the shoulder strap. A sharp swing caught the zombie at the side of its skull and the tip dug into its ear. I pulled with all my strength and the zombie's face just...parted. It continued its grasping at my leg for just a few seconds before going limp.

My breath came in gasps as I sought to recover from the shock and adrenaline rush. It all came back to me now, my uneasy feeling. I had assumed the man was dead and the family was avoiding his dead body. Except, the body was not at all decomposed. Somehow, the zombie had went into a dormant state while being locked in the room.

In fact, he seemed to have been hibernating...

Things just got weirder and weirder.

I eyed my crow bar in disgust. I took my leather gloves off and used the plastic ones to wash the crowbar thoroughly at the late lady's sink. I applied detergent generously and decided I will soak it in boiling water when I returned to my HQ.  Probably a good idea to grab a spare too on my next shopping trip.

Deciding I was done with the place, I let myself out and walked through the whole corridor of the 20th floor, all the other apartment units were securely locked. I re-jammed the door that I entered from and got back to my floor.

I disinfected myself and my equipment thoroughly and worked on an idea that this "home visit" had given me: I will honour the woman and child's memory by living well and to start a search for other humans who might have survived the Problem intact and healthy.

End log.