No Redemption For The Dead

9:48AM

Chapter Eleven:

I could see the moonlight trailing over the top edge of the stairs that were climbing above me. My eyes followed the trail until I could see a landing, and then the stairs turned and continued on up. I shifted myself forward and pulled myself up each stair, one by one. It was slow going, but once I focused on the top of that other landing I made quick progress. I gained momentum as I passed each stair.

I could make out a form just up ahead as I neared the top of the landing. It was slumped over at the far end of the hall. The figure was completely bathed in moonlight, and it beckoned me on to investigate. I stumbled forward, uncaring of the doorways I passed as I came closer to the form.

It was a body. I didn't recognize it from the lobby downstairs. It didn't move. It was rotten. It didn't even seem that it was one like me. It certainly wasn't one that had the Red.

I sensed that the Red was close, but it wasn't coming from this one. Why did I feel that it was here? I needed it. I felt it was nearby. I salivated, the anticipation was so real. Confused as to where to seek it out, I made my way back down the hall, in the other direction.

Pee Wee heard sounds coming from out in the hallway. At first he tried to ignore the sounds as the blissful feeling he felt from the drug blinded him to the danger approaching. And yet he was not completely unaware. As the sounds seemed closer, his brain screamed for him to snap out of it.

Pee Wee's eyes flashed open just in time as he could hear movement passing just outside the door. The shuffling sound of the footsteps alerted him to the presence of one of those things. He stealthily sat upright and crept quietly behind the door. Listening with his ear pressed up against the door, he could make out someone standing at the far end of the hallway, where the body of the young mother lay.

Pee Wee's heart raced. He was thinking as quickly as his befuddled mind could of a way to escape without going through a big struggle again. Pee Wee was unquestionably high, and was incapable of fighting at the present time. Hell, he could hardly stand.

As he crouched behind the door with his heart beating a mile a minute, Pee Wee cursed himself for letting things get this far out of hand. He listened as the footsteps echoed softly. He held his breath as he heard each doorknob get tried. It seemed that all the other doors on this floor were locked.

I could sense the Red was even closer now. As I shuffled down the corridor, something made me eager to escalate my hunt. I could feel it from somewhere deep inside. It wasn't necessarily a physical sensation that spurred me on, but somehow I knew that the Red was extremely close by . I didn't ask questions like How? Why? Or where? It was a core response to an intangible drive. My desire to find the Red was the only thing that motivated me. I pressed myself against the wall feeling the pressure, wanting it to yield, to give me passage to my desire. I stroked the wall and along the doorframes, feeling my way, trying to find my way to the Red.

Pee Wee pressed himself against the door, glancing at the doorknob as he moved in to block the door further with his body. He hoped that whatever was on the other side wasn't very strong, and hopefully alone. Once the being was alerted to his presence, if there where others in the building, they would be attracted to the sound of the first trying to gain entrance to the room.

Pee Wee tried desperately to shake off the fog he was in. He was still looking at the lock on the doorknob...It was still turned to the unlocked position He held tightly to the knob, holding it as stationary as possible while turning the lock quietly to the locked position.

This was important so that if he needed to make a break for it, the door would be able to hold for even a few brief moments before anyone could breach the room. Pee Wee could make out the sound of the creature only a door or two away.

He couldn't tell for sure by the sound on which side of the hallway it was making it's way. The sounds were so random and echoed. Pee Wee just couldn't trust his ears. He still felt his hearing seemed muffled, and that was a result of the drug. He was still peaked in his high, and although his heart rate was accelerated, he didn't feel sober enough to put up a fight.

The door suddenly rattled fiercely against Pee Wee's cheek as he was pressed up to listen. The creature was just on the other side of the door. Pee Wee felt his blood run suddenly icy as fear coursed through his veins. His mind racing, he tried to consider as many options as his dulled mind could come up with.

Perhaps the monster could hear his breathing, or in some other way could tell that Pee Wee was definitely on the other side of the door. Pounding rang out, and the door shook with the force of it. Pee Wee backed away, his eyes wide like saucers. He couldn't think fast enough to make any moves. Looking quickly from side to side, he first looked at the door shaking in it's frame, and then back to the window containing still some shards of broken glass.

Pee Wee moved closer to the windowsill, and snuck a quick peek outside. He didn't see anything wandering below. But from this angle, the fence pole seemed too distant to swing over to. Even though the building was brick and had some decorative trimwork built into the brick inlay, Pee Wee had no faith that his fingers could find purchase, and that his grip would not fail him in making his escape.

Even though he was only on the second floor, and it didn't seem too high, Pee Wee realized that his arm had already been injured, and coupled with the fact that his brain was still not fully coherent, he felt that he was in some pretty dire straits. Pee Wee's brain flashed back and forth, what to do? What to do?

The creature was really tearing and lashing out at the door now, the wood made a cracking sound. Pee Wee was not sure how much longer the door was going to hold. He had to make a decision soon. There really was nothing in this room that he could use defensively. He had forgotten about having the gun, or any other weapon.

All Pee Wee wanted to do at the moment was fly. His thoughts ran so fast in his head and his brain felt so slow from the dope, that he could not decipher a single thing. He just kept looking at the window. He was afraid to make the leap, but more afraid to stay and face what was about to come into the room.

The pounding on the door was so fierce that it didn't seem that it was going to hold for much longer. Just as the door came crashing open, Pee Wee bent forward and raced towards the creature. Hitting it dead center, he pushed it back and sent it crashing into the wall opposite the doorway to the room.

Shoving himself off from it, he raced towards the stairway, not knowing what might be coming from that direction. In a panic, Pee Wee didn't care about what might be coming. His only desire at the time was to get away from what he considered a force too strong for himself to contend with. Not in his present condition anyway.

His fear caused a temporary rush of adrenaline, so he went with it. Moving blindly down the staircase, he didn't pause to think until he reached the bottom. At least the coast was clear. The lobby area was devoid of any human presence, living or undead.

Taking the time to look around at his surroundings, he noticed that the entire lower floor was open. Every apartment door was open. In fact they contained no doors. Inside, mattresses, and broken down bits of furniture lay strewn about. The building definitely had a flophouse feel to it. More of the candles were placed everywhere. It was obvious that this place had been in use long after the electricity had gone out, and showed definite signs of being a drug house.

Pee Wee moved rapidly through the downstair's hall, not only seeking a safe way to make his escape, but a part of him was still searching for some dope. It seemed that whoever had been here previous to the outbreak had long ago made their own way out. There were no signs of a struggle, no blood spilled throughout to give him an indication of attack. This gave him more courage.

Pee Wee felt that the building had held relatively few creatures. Perhaps he had already encountered all that there was. He knew that it wouldn't be long before the one that was upstairs would make it's way down to him, so he moved fast. He found the room that the original zombie, the young mother, had first died in. He knew this to be true because he found paraphernalia in a corner of this room. There were syringes discarded on the floor, and he found a rubber tourniquet haphazardly tossed onto the bed.

Already possessing the mind set of a junkie, he threw the top mattress off of the frame, and found a stash that had been hidden. He grabbed up all that he could find, several bundles and a few loose packets. At least he felt that now he wouldn't have to continue on his mission to find anything. He had enough to get him through a little while, enough to let him heal and get better.

All Pee Wee had to do was make it back home. Forgetting his pain and fear for the moment, he beamed inwardly I am one lucky motherfucker It was like winning the lottery, or finding buried treasure. To Pee Wee, it felt like everything he just went through this night was well worth it all. All he had to do was make his way back and he was home free.

11:36AM

Chapter Ten:

Felicia suffered in silence. Alone and afraid, she knew she must endure everything without attracting unwanted attention from the creatures that wandered outside. Her body completely drenched in sweat, she tried to at least wash her face with a cloth and some bottled water. The water was tepid, but it felt good to wipe away the grime. Feeling a little comfort from this, she stripped off her clothing and continued to wipe herself down. It wasn't bathing exactly, but she felt refreshed, nonetheless. She then pulled one of Pee Wee's oversized t-shirts over her head, and donned a pair of sweat pants.

Felicia still felt sick, but this effort helped her to feel a bit normal once again. She lay back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Why did she do this to herself? Felicia was never one of those girls to follow what everyone else was doing, so why did she let herself get caught up with dope? She regretted ever getting started, because she was surely suffering for it now.

She had always thought that it would be much easier to quit, that all you needed was the willpower to do it. Before all of this had happened, in the past whenever she'd see a junkie on the street she considered them to be pathetic. She thought they were selfish, and really didn't want to try and get clean. She had regarded them with contempt, and only now have come to realize that perhaps their behavior was just a shell they wore around themselves. Maybe they had wanted to get clean, but just didn't know how to go about doing it once their bodies betrayed them during withdrawal.

She really hadn't understood what these people had gone through, until now. With a newfound understanding, she resolved to kick this. Felicia understood that she was never going to be able to fight to live amongst the undead, as long as she remained emotionally dead herself. Felicia was going to honor her grandmother's memory by pulling herself together, and help Pee Wee get clean too.

Her grandmother had been one of those ladies who helped others in the neighborhood. Often she did this anonymously. Groceries left by a doorstep, a bag of diapers for a struggling single mom, or even a small present for one of the little kids on their birthday. Even if the older teens thought she was a nosy old lady, the youngest kids loved her, and called her abuela. Felicia's grandmother didn't do the things she did for any sort of glory, but because she hated to see anyone suffer.

Felicia was beginning to see things through her grandmother's eyes, and she was ashamed of herself for having been so closed minded. Felicia promised herself that right now her priority was to get herself better. No matter what the temptation, she would not touch another drug. When Pee Wee returned, if he returned, she was going to help him get clean too. Then they would set out to escape from the city somehow, and maybe find their way to safety.

As sick as she was at the moment, it was the first time that she wasn't haunted by visions of her dead grandmother attacking her. Now when she saw her in her mind, it was the sweet smile she remembered. Felicia dozed off with the smell of her grandmother's rose cologne wafting down upon her. Even as Felicia suffered in silence, her grandmother's memories presented a comfort that was well needed in her loneliness.

I wandered. There were many shadows here, but I needed not to use my eyes because There was a comfort in the shadows. I could actually find my way better in the dark. It wasn't necessarily a visual thing, it just was what it was. Instinctively I knew there was prey here. I couldn't seem to hone in on the exact location, but there was a shift in my perception, causing me to go into hunting mode.

I shambled down one corridor, only to turn back, and reappear in the lobby once again. I changed from a passive wanderer, to a single minded aggressive being. There was something pulling at me. A need of my own that only the Red could satisfy. I yearned for the soft slippery wetness. I needed to consume the flesh to fulfill the emptiness inside of me.

The ones that yield this beautiful Red, flashed briefly in some distant memory. It was cloudy and fleeting. Little blips of something remembered, and yet there was no importance attached to the individual. The only important thing was the Red. A singular lust called out to me, I begged and yearned for it as I searched for something...

Pee Wee had enjoyed the full rush wash over him and send him into a place that held no fear, no worry, nor pain. There was a loud buzzing in his ears and he momentarily lost consciousness. Even though he was aware of being in the room, he felt detached, away from himself somehow. It was a sensation similar to an out of body experience.

Pee Wee watched himself dozing there on the dirty mattress. He observed how good he felt at the moment. Truly it was a miracle to him every time he was on a heroin trip. His sense of euphoria masking any negative feelings, including constantly needing to be on the alert. It was an annoyance to Pee Wee. He hated that since everything had happened, he hadn't been able to relax fully and enjoy the high.

Pee Wee felt pretty safe, so he allowed himself this brief moment. In the back of his mind there was a little tingling sense of impending doom, but he chose to push that thought out of the way. He decided that just this once he'd experience the full effects, and enjoy every minute of it. Pee Wee let his mind wander off as the warm comforting feeling caressed him and lulled him into a false sense of security.

I stopped for a moment when I noticed a moonbeam shining on one of the stairs leading up to the second floor. It shined and gleamed, attracting me to make my way towards it. I didn't know what it was that made me want to seek out this moonbeam, but I moved with a purpose.

When I reached the staircase, I pulled myself up slowly but steadily, until I reached the stair that the moonbeam sparkled upon. I hesitated there for a moment. Curiosity held me transfixed to the spot. I lingered there for a brief time, temporarily forgetful of my original intent.

I saw my hand in the moonlight. I didn't recognize it as my own. I continued to stare at the injury I held on my wrist. It was where I had apparently tried to fend off an attack, although I had no memory of it. The wound was a bite with torn flesh peeled back. It held dried and crusted blood, as well as some milky matter oozing from the edges of the mottled and bruised looking skin.

A brief image flitted across my gaze as I remembered the blood pouring from the wound. The artery had been torn with the bite and the blood had literally pumped out from my wrist. My attacker had moved in on me and took a sizeable chunk from my neck during that struggle. I remembered the blood being everywhere Everywhere I looked around me was bathed in red....Red......

I snapped out of my flashback and came to the present. It was the Red that did it. With renewed interest I raised up and tackled the staircase once again.

Felicia tossed in her sleep. She had fallen asleep in a pretty comfortable zone. She felt her grandmother's spirit protecting her as she vowed to honor her grandmother's memory by making necessary changes in her life. But even though she felt good about her decision, her body was still going through the physicality of quitting dope.

She knew her grandmother would always be around her, so she tried to garner some strength from it. Felicia's biggest fear now was Pee Wee's safety. It has been many hours since she last looked at him getting ready to leave, the fear she saw in his eyes. Even though he'd deny it.

Felicia dreamed now of many terrible fates that could have befallen him. Little did she know of what had been a horrible night for Pee Wee, so far. Her nightmares not only existed in her head, but in reality too. She could only hope that he was being cautious, and not tempting any fate. But her dreams kept shifting back to Pee Wee's ultimate demise. Her imagination only playing out increasingly more gruesome ways to die a most painful death.

Every time Felicia startled awake, dripping sweat, she told herself that it was the dope that was now torturing her, a punishment her body dealt her for not giving in. Her nightmares were just a figment of her imagination gone wild because she was delirious with dope sickness and guilt. She continued to cling to the belief that her grandmother would now protect her, and that it was in God's hands if Pee Wee was to ever return.

12:38AM

2:32PM

Chapter Nine:

Felicia swam in and out of consciousness. Never before in her life had she felt such suffering. Her grandmother's image kept swimming before her, and it frightened her more and more.

Being alone in the building made her fearful to leave the confines of her own room. Every little creak, or tiny little scratch made her jump. Her skin was crawling at this point, and she was beginning to battle with herself, trying to maintain control of her bowels.

She prayed. in a feverish sweat, and her skin feeling greasy, she flopped down on the floor and prayed to God, any God, to help her out of her misery. Why did this all have to happen? Why did she let Pee Wee introduce her to her very own destruction? And that's how she felt.

It was bad enough that the dead were walking on earth. But, how could she make it if she couldn't help shitting on herself? She could barely crawl, never mind fight off an attack, if God forbid, it should happen.

She felt she was being punished for going against her grandmother's upbringing. She begged for forgiveness. Felicia spoke aloud, I'm sorry for everything tears burning her eyes, she went to her knees and asked her grandmother's ghost to protect her.

"Abuela, mi corazon, por favor alluda mi! Lo ciento por todos! Por favor......por favor....."

Felicia rocked back and forth. Lost in her praying and suffering, she vowed to herself that she would do good by her grandmother's wishes, if she could just get better. The room swirled around her, and she continued to pray fervently. Felicia was lost to the effects of her body trying to kick the heroin, as well as conquer her own fears.

Pee Wee was seriously beginning to feel his body give out on him. Aside from feeling weak from the loss of blood, the burst of adrenaline he received from his narrow escape from the creatures left him within minutes. The shit he was going through now was withdrawal. And that was exactly what he felt like, shit.

The room he presently occupied seemed relatively safe enough. He'd have a look around beyond this room later. He started to pull out the drawers of the dresser to see what they contained. Rifling around dirty rags, he found some more candles, matches, and a dirty spoon. At least now it was confirmed to him that this was a drug house. No drugs were found in the drawer, but it gave him hope. Perhaps if he ventured outside of this room, he might get lucky.

Pee Wee could hear movement. It didn't sound like it was from out in the hallway, but it also didn't sound like it came from out in the alleyway either. He tried to tune into it, but there was nothing more.

Pee Wee moved as silently as possible towards the door. Again, he heard the faintest of sounds. It was definitely coming from inside of the building. He couldn't tell if it was on the same floor or below. The place had an empty feel to it, and even though the sound came from far off, Pee Wee couldn't tell for sure just how far. All he knew, was that eventually he would have to make a move. If he didn't do it soon, he'd be too sick to fight if he needed.

Pee Wee would never admit to being afraid of going out, but he was hesitant to having another confrontation. Chicken shit mother fucker Pee Wee swore to himself, bracing for another deal with the undead. He clutched the pistol he held in the pocket of his hoodie he had worn under the flannel. His palms were moist as he turned the doorknob and heard the faint click. Holding his breath, he opened the door slowly. It creaked slightly as it swung open.

His heart leaped wildly in his chest, and he broke out in a cold sweat. Fearing being heard, he froze in place, allowing for his eyes to once again adjust to the darkness. Moonlight streamed from a window at the very end of the hall, allowing for some visibility. Pee Wee strained his ears to pick up any movement. He heard none. Seconds ticked by, but to Pee Wee it felt like forever as he waited to make a move. Knowing the hallway was empty thus far, he stealthily made his way towards the end of the hall, and located a staircase.

I found my way into the building. As I made my way along the back, I found an opening. It was a hallway that led to the basement area. It was quite dark, but I had no need for light. I kept moving until I bumped into the opposite wall. There I found stairs that led up into the lobby area, the interior of the building.

It was there that I met another. She was dressed in tattered clothing. It was obvious that she had been in a struggle, but there was no telltale sign of blood. Even though she didn't carry the Red with her, I knew she was kin because she was empty. Her eyes were dull, and her face was devoid of any emotion. She regarded me for a moment, then passed me by. I had nothing to offer her. She wasn't anymore interested in me as I was to her. So we passed each other in silence, and I continued to shuffle down the hall. The other one made her way towards the large staircase and began to ascend to the second floor.

Pee Wee heard a sound coming from below. Sensing danger his heart rate quickened. He backed away from the stairs as silently as possible. It was very dark in the stairwell, and he was unable to see what was below. Only the uppermost section of the stairs were visible, then they curved away and out of site.

He could definitely hear someone or something coming up. He backed up as far as he could, trying to put some distance between himself and the newcomer. Pee Wee still wanted to salvage as many bullets as possible, as he still had a way to go on his journey. Palming the gun in his hoodie pocket gave him some security, but if it was only one, he'd try to deal with it in another way.

He felt for his knife. Slapping his legs he couldn't locate it immediately. Just when he was about to give up the search he found it. His pants had cargo pockets, and it was there that he found the knife. He opened the blade just as the person who was making their way came into view. From a distance it was hard to tell if she was living or dead. Pee Wee saw no sign of blood, and took that to mean this person had no contact with the creatures.

He whispered to her, "are you all right?"
She stopped briefly, staring at him. Pee Wee began to move forward.

"Are you here all by yourself?" Still no answer. Thinking that the girl must be surprised to find a stranger in her place, Pee Wee attempted to soothe her.

"I won't hurt you, I promise." He tried to make light of the situation.

"Well it might be me that should worry about getting hurt." He let out a little laugh,

"If you've been here all by yourself, then you could probably whip my ass!"

He moved a little more towards her. "Look, I'm sick, and my arm's all fucked up. I'm not looking for trouble..."

As she entered a stream of moonlight, he could see her more plainly. One of her sleeves was rolled up, and a hypodermic needle protruded from her arm. Pee Wee could see that the needle still contained some dope.

It occurred to him that this was entirely strange, when he got a good look at her face for the first time. It was her eyes. In the dark it was hard to tell what the rest of her looked like, but he'll never forget those eyes. Flat, lifeless eyes that bore into you. It was almost like there was no ability to focus, and yet it was unmistakable that she was looking right at him.

Her intent was obvious when she raised her arms and came right for him. Pee Wee grabbed one arm and swung her around. She landed flat up against the wall. He quickly sunk the knife deep into one of her eyes. It was the eyes that did it to him. He shuddered with a sick feeling as she let out a little moan and slid down the wall. He hadn't expected the struggle to end so quick, but was grateful that he saw her for what she was as quick as he did. He wished he had sooner, but he never expected to find one of those things in her condition.

Every other one of them had looked like they'd been through a war, and bore horrible injuries. They even stank so bad that you could never confuse them for anything other than what they were, which was dead. Pee Wee figured this one must have only recently died, but why no injuries?

He couldn't really think right now, as he got chills and his stomach began to twist again. He looked at the needle stuck in the creatures arm. It still had a decent dose left in it. Pee Wee was puzzled by this, but was too sick to think.

He pulled the syringe out, and searched her pockets. Pee Wee found a photograph of a little boy sitting on his mother's lap. The mother was smiling at the boy, and it was obviously her, in her better days. Now she was just a mere shadow of her former self. She was skinnier, her arms littered with track marks. She looked horrible. And yet, Pee Wee could see that this girl had once been very pretty.

A tear welled up in the corner of his eye. He had witnessed a lot of this back in the day, but never took the time to think about the destruction he had a direct hand in. Feeling guilty, he said a silent prayer for her and her little boy. He finished looking through her pockets. He was frustrated that he didn't find any more drugs, but at the same time felt bad that he was doing this.

Pee Wee retreated back to the room, and closed the door behind him. The candlelight seemed brighter now, and he felt a little relieved. Peering out the broken window, he saw that the zombies had left the alleyway, and it was now silent below. Even a little breeze stirred, bringing some fresh air into the room.

Pee Wee sank down onto the mattress, using the tattered flannel as a barrier between himself and the filthy surface. He was really feeling sick now. He inspected the needle closely. The idea of where it once was gave him a sick feeling, and yet he was even more sick, enough to consider what he was about to do.

He pulled out the picture of the girl and her son once more. He mourned the loss of humanity. He missed his family and friends. He missed Felicia. If anything, he needed to get back to her soon. He was the only one she had left. This syringe represented a chance to feel better. He would get himself together and rest up for a moment before moving on.

Right now Pee Wee felt that he couldn't go on. He was losing his strength as each minute went by. His arm was in terrible pain too. Maybe this dose would help him with that. Maybe take away everything so he could get back to Felicia faster. He resolved himself to doing what he had to do. Pee Wee didn't want to think about it anymore.

He found a vein on his inner arm, inside his elbow. He sunk the syringe, and watched as a little of his blood pooled inside the needle, mixing with the brownish liquid it contained. He pulled back on the plunger drawing out a little more of his blood and then sunk it home.

Immediately he was washed over with the warm buzzing sensation. He swooned, and felt the effects of the drug take everything away. His pain, his guilt, his memories. His whole body felt uncontrollably limp, and he moved as if in slow motion. Leaning back into the corner of the wall, he silently nodded out.

1:27PM

Chapter Eight:


Pee Wee winces and sucks in his breath as he frantically rips his outer shirt into a bandage of sorts to hold close his wounds. He is bleeding pretty badly, and the reality of his situation starts to set in. He looks around the room he fell into quickly. Luckily, it was empty. Except for some furniture, he was alone.

He notices candles stuck into their own dripped wax stuck all over the top of a broken dresser. The door to the room was closed, and Pee Wee could hear no movement outside of the door, so he felt relatively safe for the moment. He was afraid to open the door, as he had no way of knowing for sure what might be found in this building. It seemed pretty well abandoned from the outside. But in this day, you could never tell. Besides, he wasn't even sure if the entrances were secured or not. All this room afforded him was a temporary respite from the danger below.

He could hear the sounds of the creatures still battling in the alley. Pee Wee was sure that the noise would attract others. He wasn't cool with that. He had brought a weapon, but only had a limited amount of bullets. He wasn't able to use the gun in the alley because he only had enough time to climb the fence, and needed both hands to hold onto the fence as he climbed. Pee Wee thought he would've used the gun for sure before he got caught like that, but hadn't anticipated how quickly they had descended upon him before he needed both hands for another use. Satisfied that he was able to get out of one scrape without having to waste bullets, Pee Wee decided to use the gun only in a last case scenario.

Looking again around the room, Pee Wee decided to see what he could find. A tattered and dirty looking mattress lay on the floor in a corner, and there were more of those candles stuck to the floor, held by their own wax drippings near the bed.

A realization began to dawn on him. This building was a flophouse for the homeless. Perhaps even a shooting gallery. The lowest of the low were usually found here. If he was right, then this was a place where other addicts would come to procure drugs, and then use them, away from the prying eyes of the public.

When people would come to these types of places, they didn't care what it looked like inside, or what kind of people could be found. You went in, paid for your shit, and found a quiet spot to do it.

People from all walks of life could be found here. Aside from the homeless, you could find businessmen dropping in for a quick fix, before or after work. You could also find prostitutes, as well as young mothers, toting their babies along. You could leave your stereotypes and misconceptions at the door. Pee Wee wouldn't have been surprised to see the mayor himself in one of these types of places, he'd seen stranger things in his own 'hood, and nothing surprised him anymore.

The very idea of where he found himself started to get his body craving again. Pee Wee's arm was sliced up pretty badly, but he had it bandaged as tightly as he could. Blood seeped out through the fabric, but it seemed to be holding fairly well. At any rate, there was nothing he could do about it now.

Pee Wee's stomach began to lurch again. Feeling a bit weak, he moved over to the dresser, and pulling a lighter out of his pocket, he lit one of the candles. The tiny glow barely illuminated the dresser top, it's light so small it couldn't penetrate the darkness beyond it's own little perimeter. Pee Wee's eyes had more or less adjusted to the darkness anyway. Besides, he didn't want any more light than was absolutely needed. Light could attract more of those things to his location, and he still needed to figure out a way to escape.

11:02PM

Chapter Seven:

I am moving toward the alley. My reverie was broken by the sudden movement, and I see others making their way towards the same objective. I am catching on to my purpose. As I draw nearer, I begin to salivate in anticipation of having more of the RED.

The others have joined me in the cramped alleyway, and they are trying to push me out of their way. This angers me I trip and stumble, attempting to hold my balance as I negotiate my way around the fallen garbage cans and debris strewn throughout.

I can see a man up ahead. Instinct tells me he has what I desire. I am closer now. I let out a wail. I want him, I need him.

The others are now at his feet, pulling at him. I pull on them trying to get at him first. They are fighting me, and I feel even more anger well up inside of me. They are trying to keep me away from him, and I won't have that I spot a broken piece of pipe lying near my feet. I pick it up and start to smash the one in front of me.

I keep a sharp eye on the object of my desire all the while. He is moving up, up and away from my reach I howl and moan in disappointment. The others are fighting and scratching at each other.

We are all pressed up against a fence battling one another, when the fence suddenly breaks and gives way on one side. I slip through the opening, and wander away from the melee. One of the others tries to follow, but a part of his clothing is caught on the edge of the fence, and he can't seem to break free.

The sounds of the fighting continues as I press up against the wall, feeling my way along, searching for an opening. My desire for the RED feeding my impulse to keep searching. I know the man is inside this structure. The walls are hard and unyielding. I must get inside. I pound on the walls with the pipe still in my hand, as I make my way. Determination forcing me on.

9:17PM

7:24AM

Chapter Six:


Pain wracked through Felicia's body. Her arms and legs felt heavy, and her muscles ached. Her back ached too, and no matter how she tried to position herself, she couldn't relieve the pain. Chills ran all up and down her body. And yet, she was sweating profusely. Her stomach in a knot, twisting and turning, she felt she would vomit at any moment. It was all she could do to get herself upstairs and above street level, where it was assumed she wouldn't be heard moving around.

She lay on the bathroom floor, trying to cool her feverish body on the tiles. Sometimes, she kicked out uncontrollably, because her legs couldn't stand the pain. She felt delirious, and her mind was swimming in and out of coherent thought. She was worried that Pee Wee was not coming back. She was all alone. sick and afraid. Crawling along the floor, she dragged herself into a bedroom, and tried to lay down upon the bed. She made it as far as the throw rug before she passed out. In the street below, a low moan carried on the breeze, as the moon crested over the abandoned building tops. It was going to be a long night.

Pee Wee was in fact, having some difficulty negotiating the streets safely. He knew his destination. But getting there in one piece was proving to be a lot harder than he had originally anticipated. The undead were everywhere. And he thought that it would have been easier to avoid detection by them under the cover of darkness. This proved to be wrong. Even though they didn't seem to notice you if you avoided them spotting you directly, at night it seemed that their sense of hearing became more acute. Maybe it wasn't any more acute than a normal human could hear on average, but they seemed very driven by anything, once they are attracted to you.

Pee Wee wondered if they could even pick up the sound of his beating heart, even when he stood perfectly still. It was so quiet at night. He was losing strength as each hour ticked by. Already he was nauseous, the taste of copper in his mouth. His body's need pushed him on. He just had to be careful, and try to make steady, if not quick, progress. It was hard for him to hold it together.

Everywhere, the stench of rotted meat clung in the air, turning his already sick stomach. He saw dead and rotted corpses in the gutters, and wrecked cars, that some also contained the remains of some unfortunate person. Back in the day, Pee Wee would've thought that having lived in the inner city his whole life, he would have seen it all, and be hardened for this. But nothing had prepared him to see dead children, practically ripped apart, and pieces of flesh and blood marking the spot of an obvious attack. Pee Wee told himself, Fuck it, they should have taken the babies out sooner. But deep inside his subconscious, it ate at him, to see innocent kids torn apart.

Down the street a little further, he could see a few of the creatures milling about. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he looked to see if the coast was clear. He could just make out someone coming around the corner at the top of the block. It was far enough away to not see him right away. Pee Wee pressed himself up against the wall of the building, contemplating his next move.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, as he felt his body begin to reject the contents of his stomach. He turned quickly, and tried to hold it in, but the vomit up heaved, and he could only bend over and let it out. He knew he had made too much noise, and he cursed himself for his body betraying him. Sure enough, two figures turned and started to make their way towards his direction. The one that rounded the corner up the block made a hissing sound as it increased it's speed a little, and was intently making it's way towards him.

Fuck Pee Wee cursed under his breathe. He scanned his surroundings quickly, and noticed a narrow alleyway filled with garbage cans. He wasn't sure where it would lead, but he was sure that he could find a fire escape or a fence to climb to avoid combating the three that were rapidly closing in on him. He had a fleeting thought of being trapped, but then he heard noises of movement coming from across the street. Something was coming from that direction too, and it would arrive before the others.

Pee Wee didn't have time to think, and his body was already giving out on him. He needed to make a move, and fast. Blindly, he ran into the alley. Pushing cans over as he made his way, hoping to slow them down as he struggled to reach the other end. There was a fence He noticed a broken window on the second floor, and realized he could try to climb the fence, and then swing over to the window ledge. He was exhausted, and wasn't sure if he could keep running at any rate. His heart was beating fast, and he needed to get himself to a safe place to hole up for a minute to catch his breathe.

There were five zombies in the alley now. It was so dark, but by the pale moonlight he could barely make them out. Besides, they were moaning and making noises that indicated just how close they were. Pee Wee grabbed the wire fence and pulled himself upwards as quick as he could.

The first zombie reached the fence. It's face was destroyed. There were deep gouges where the flesh had been pulled back, revealing part of the jawbone. Saliva dripped from it's maw, onto a tattered shirt that was filthy with dried blood and body fluids. The wounds looked infected along the edges, and had actually turned greenish and bruised. It reached out to grab Pee Wee's leg as he climbed. Grabbing a firm hold, it pulled itself up along with Pee Wee. Pee Wee lashed out his leg with all his might, trying to loosen it's grip.

Another one moved in for the kill. This one looking pretty fresh. He only had a few superficial wounds and blood on the front of his shirt. Pee Wee pulled himself up harder, breaking the grip of the first zombie. At that moment all of the creatures were at his feet, and were thrashing about, fighting to get at him. They made snarling sounds as they fought.

The fence was swaying, and the movement made it difficult for Pee Wee to climb. He made his way to the top of the fence, and tried to reach the window ledge. It was impossible, because the creatures were fighting and shaking the fence so much, that he had a wider gap to reach than he had anticipated. With a sense of dread, he realized that the fence would not hold out for long, and he needed to do something.

On the upswing, Pee Wee allowed his body to be propelled towards the ledge, and he swung out towards the window. He grabbed the window by swinging his arm into it, through the broken glass that remained. Slicing himself up pretty bad, he was dangling by one arm. He grabbed the brick ledge with his other hand, and clung there. The burning sensation raced up his arm where he had been cut.

Below him, the creatures furiously battled each other to get at him. Pee Wee could barely hang on, but the fear propelled him to keep pushing. He gathered his strength, and in one mighty tug, he pulled himself up and over the widow ledge, incurring more damage as he went. More glass and wood broke and came away as Pee Wee fell through the window and into a dark room.

7:45PM

Chapter Five:

Felicia had been grateful for the help. At the time, it seemed like they could make it. But everything took a further turn for the worse. Her grandmother had died sometime during the night.

Felicia and the men felt that the old woman would not turn into one of those things, because she had not actually been bitten. When they had first got her back to her apartment, they simply put her to bed with a cold rag on her forehead. Felicia initially thought that with her grandmother's heart condition, it was best to let her rest. She had made an attempt at feeling for a pulse. Her grandmother seemed to have stabilized as far as her heart rate, but had never regained consciousness. Felicia thought it could be from shock, and wanted to let her grandmother sleep.

When she died, it came as a surprise to everyone. Thinking the cause of death was just a heart attack, no one was prepared for what was to happen next. Felicia's grandmother opened her eyes and stared vacantly towards her only granddaughter. Felicia thought it was a very bad dream. As her grandmother made a move on her, Pee Wee came up from behind the both of them and smashed Felicia's grandmother's skull in with a hammer. Brain matter and blood splattered all around, some splashing onto Felicia's t-shirt.

Hysterical and crying, Felicia lashed out at Pee Wee. All he could do was hold her, and try to explain to her what was happening.

"Look, I didn't want to do that shit!" Pee Wee struggled to come up with a way to comfort her.

"I'm sorry that I had to do that, but it wasn't her anymore! Don't you get it? It looked like her, but whatever it was that was inside of her was not your abuela! When she passed, I'm sure that she went to heaven."

At this point he crossed himself. Then he looked her straight in the eye.

"If you are going to make it through this, then you better get your shit together girl, 'Cause this is real! I'm sorry I had to do that, but you gotta understand..."

Felicia wasn't fighting him anymore, and had collapsed against him. She was still sobbing as he carried her to her bed. He felt like shit, but had no other idea as to how he could help her.

He handed her a small packet that had three blue stars stamped on the outside of it. Felicia wiped her tear stained face and looked at the little envelope she held in her hand. Inside it looked like a powdered substance. She knew what it was.

Looking at Pee Wee, she felt angry, and yet was too emotionally exhausted to argue. He glanced back at her.

"Yeah, it might not be your thing, but you'll thank me later."

He handed her a mirror she had on her dresser, along with a rolled up dollar bill. Felicia just wanted to get the image of her dead grandmother out of her head. She felt that it would haunt her, and it was bad enough to dream about those things outside.

She sniffed a little, and the warm buzzing sensation washed over her. She leaned back on her pillow and allowed the drug to lull her into a quiet place, detached from the world, and no longer caring about what was going on around her.

After a fitful night, Felicia carried on like her whole world had finally come crashing down on her. Her grandmother had been the only family she really knew, having been abandoned by her mother when she was a small child. Her only focus in life had been to show her grandmother that she wasn't like her mother, a junkie prostitute who ran the streets all hours of the night, to dump her baby off with whoever would have her.

Felicia had a lot of anger pent up inside. And she didn't realize just how deep her pain and anger was, until she lost her abuela. The fact that Pee Wee had introduced her to the one thing that had separated her from her mother, heroin was something she felt let down her grandmother. It was such a slap in the face, the disrespect she felt she had shown to her grandmother's memory. And yet, without it, Felicia would not be able to keep the haunting image of what her grandmother had become, out of her mind.

She had such mixed feelings about this, and hated herself for being weak. But there was no time to feel sorry for yourself. Pee Wee and his crew had worked through the night sealing up all the first floor windows and doors.

They scavenged whatever wood they could find to do the job. Be it doors taken off their hinges from other apartments, or heavy bookshelves taken apart, whatever could be found that was solid and secure enough was deemed usable. Blankets were then draped over the boarded up windows, so that even candle light could not filter through and alert others to their presence.

It was Felicia's idea to use the fire escape as a means of getting in and out of the building. She pointed out the fact that using the doors would leave them vulnerable, and that those should be as permanently sealed off as possible. They did a very good job. No one could go in, or leave via the front and rear entrances.

In the first few days, there were a couple of people still coming by to score. Pee Wee, or one of the other guys would hang out on the roof, watching the proceedings from above. They would send down a bucket tied to a rope, for the buyers to place their cash in. Using hand signals, they'd indicate what they wanted. Then one of the crew would send it back down with the bucket.

This system worked well until they ran out. Pee Wee hadn't expected to still have people stopping by, still looking. Whether it was carelessness or stupidity, Pee Wee's friends each felt it was worth the risk to resupply, telling themselves that if the junkies can make it out there to score, then they can make it too. Three men left that evening. It was the last time Pee Wee would see his friends again.

With a young girl to look after, perhaps the only female left nearby, Pee Wee became very protective of Felicia. Unfortunately, Felicia didn't realize that Pee Wee himself was a junkie.

He hid it well. Having a constant supply kept him functional. At night, when Felicia couldn't sleep, he would give her a little from his own stash. No wonder he had no problem giving it to her that first night. He didn't see anything wrong with using junk to get them through this. Besides, what else was there? Having locked themselves away from the world, it became an endless cycle of doing dope, nodding off, fucking, and eating.

When they ran out, Felicia had no idea how bad it would be for them. Pee Wee knew where to go to get more, but going outside was extremely dangerous now.

"Fuck it." he said.

"We can't make it unless we stay straight."

He had justified it just like that. As if going out there was like trying to get through a pack of dogs, and he somehow knew the trick. He left Felicia alone in the building, assuring her he'd return. Now she was getting sick, and impatiently waited for his return.

5:26PM

Chapter Four:

Felicia peeked out between the spaces in the boards that covered the first floor bedroom windows. The building that she now occupied had been barricaded and secured in the first few days of the Outbreak. The front entrance, at the top of the stoop consisted of a steel door, that had existed as a security measure from before the plague came. There was also another doorway just inside the vestibule, where, to gain entrance, you had to be buzzed in. This inner door was boarded up. As well as the rear entrance.

The only way to get in and out of the building, was by the fire escape. It was difficult, but it made it all the more secure because the creatures had no ability to jump and climb. They so far demonstrated a lack of coordination. At any rate, the ladder did not reach down to the ground, but was above the average person's height, making it necessary to leap upwards and grasping the bottom rung, you had to pull yourself up and climb to the first level. The ladder didn't pull down like it should, because it was locked into position.

The building was as safe as could be, made so by Felicia's boyfriend Pee Wee, his boys, and herself in a mad rush to get it together when everything else started to fall apart. Felicia tried to move about as silently as possible inside the apartment. Because it was so quiet outside, even the slightest sound could attract the undead to her location. As secure as it seemed, she didn't want to garner that kind of attention.

At the moment, she was alone in the building. Pee Wee was out on a mission, trying to get a supply to get them through the next week or more. It was risky to venture outside, but even though Felicia felt she did not have the nerve to do it, Pee Wee was still bold enough to try for the both of them. He had been gone a long while. Felicia tried to dismiss any negative thoughts from her mind. She told herself over and over in her mind, Sometimes it takes longer to find what you need. They both knew of some sources. But they no longer had any cash, so he had to scavenge for things of value that could be used in trade. Felicia once again had no choice but to wait it out. She whispered a little prayer for his safety.

Pee Wee and his crew ran their block, back in the day. Felicia was always attracted to him, but tried not to show it. Even though Pee Wee bore a crazy nickname, he was what he considered a ladies man. And it was true, because he always drove a sweet looking car, and had gold jewelry and nice clothes. He also had a way of speaking to the ladies, making them feel special. As if he was only interested in them. Of course, when he went out to the clubs, he was single, whether or not this was actually the case.

His boys, as he liked to call them, always had his back. And he was just as down for them. Dealing was their mode of employment, small time at best, but it afforded them all a means to an end. Pee Wee's whole crew seemed to find ways to get the finer things, and that was enough for them, fuck what anyone else had to say about it.

In the hood, you did what you had to, just to get by. That was hard enough when you made minimum wage. Just getting by was not an option for Pee Wee. He had a plan. He and his boys were going to deal just enough to get money to go into a legitimate business. Maybe it would be a barber shop, or a little restaurant, perhaps a bodega like his uncle had over in the Bronx. Some day they would have everything that they needed, but someday never came. Because whatever it was that caused the Outbreak to happen, it fucked up all their plans.

****************

When it began, many of the people of their building left, trying to escape the city. Because of the panic, the subways were overflowing with the mad exodus of families and it didn't seem capable at the time, for any of them to make their escape. Besides, in the first couple of days, so many junkies were out trying to cop a fix that it was like a bonanza to them. Instead of a bag or two, here and there, most were looking for quantity, to get them through their own escapes.

Greed had prompted some to stay longer than had been originally planned. Machismo deluded them into thinking they could handle the undead when they began to arrive. And it wasn't hard, it seemed, at first. But as each day passed the creatures multiplied.

Pretty soon, it became too late to make any kind of escape. Not only because of the danger, but some of them had been bitten. Not really knowing that the bites were what caused the infection, the bitten stayed behind. The pain, and the swift fever made it too difficult to move. It seemed like overnight the whole city was closed, essentially cutting them off from the rest of the world.

Pee Wee, his boys, Felicia, and her aged grandmother stayed behind in their building. The rest of the tenants had left. Felicia had stayed because one afternoon her grandmother had an encounter with one of the undead. Both Felicia and her grandmother had attempted to make their way towards the subway, when in the large crowd, there was one of the infected. How it had mingled with them, no one knew. It didn't matter. Her grandmother was grabbed by the arm, and before she could look, she was scratched while struggling to free herself.

She wasn't bitten, because some man in the crowd beat the creature off of her. But then her grandmother started to get really flushed, and complained of pains in her chest. Frightened, Felicia remembered that she did not have any of her grandmother's medications. They had run out, and with no place to purchase any refills, she had hoped that once they made their way to the blockade, there would be some medics who would be able to help her.

The crowd was so large, and the wait so long, her grandmother was unable to stand there any longer, much less walk to safety. They were on 135th street, too far in either direction to make it to safety. Felicia's only hope was to make their way back to their home, and try to get her grandmother to lie down and rest.

They struggled to get clear of the crowd, when it happened. Felicia's grandmother fell to the ground. Not knowing what to do, she looked around in sheer fright. At any time, another one of those things could pop out of nowhere. And even though Felicia's grandmother was a small woman, Felicia was unable to carry her. As it was she had to abandon her bag, just to cradle her grandmother's head from off of the ground.

Pee Wee happened to see from up the block what had happened, and he and his friends raced down the street to help her. Normally they didn't like the old woman because she was too nosy. But Pee Wee couldn't help feeling sorry for this young girl who was struggling to get her only family to safety.

After they got her back to her home, Pee Wee thought it best if they started to secure the building. The undead were in their neighborhood now, and it was getting increasingly unsafe for anyone to go out unarmed.

The log jam of people were left to their fate. Martial law was declared, and it wouldn't be easy for any of them to just drive out. Besides, Pee Wee and his crew were damned if they were going to just let the police, army or any other mother fucker tell them where they were going to go, and what to do. They'd secure their own building, and wait it out until shit was taken care of. How long could it be? A couple of days, weeks at the most. Hell no, it was time to start looking out for themselves.

5:23PM

Chapter Three:

I found myself the next morning wandering into a section of the city I was unaccustomed to when I was alive. This had no bearing on me now, as I only sought out the red that I was so desperate to have. The buildings appeared to be abandoned, and garbage was strewn everywhere. Graffiti littered the walls, and large piles of trash were heaped at the curb.

Everywhere there was filth and a sense of desolation. It mattered not that I was venturing into what was formerly deemed a bad neighborhood . All the neighborhoods were bad now. But this one was in a known drug zone. Drugs were not what I sought. Although, it was where many had come to seek out what they desired. Perhaps they would find what they were looking for, and so would I.

It was still partially dark outside, and I wandered aimlessly until I came to a spot that for some unknown reason seemed inviting to me. It was a dark corner, between the stoop of a building, and some trash cans. It provided some cover, although I wasn't looking to hide. I just didn't want to move on, and was content to settle there for a while doing nothing.

Time passed slowly, I had no need for it. I sat there watching the sky change from a dull dark grey, and as the sun rose, it became a beautiful bright blue. I watched the birds flying, and sat there silently while they flitted to and fro. There wasn't much sound coming from anywhere, except the pigeons cooing, and that wasn't enough to attract me to leave my spot at the present.

I had encountered a few more like me during the course of the night, but this morning it seemed that the streets were more or less empty. Most wandered in groups. And for some unknown reason tended to stay in one area for a long period of time. Maybe because there was something that kept them glued to that spot, anticipating a kill. I was more of a loner. Unless I specifically saw the red, I was aimlessly wandering along, taking in anything that interested me for the moment. There were no real explanation for my fixations. I didn't understand what it was that I was looking at. I had no real use for anything, and didn't seek out things to aid me. I just existed.

A sound broke me out of my reverie, and I turned to look in the direction it was coming from. I caught site of something, and even saw the shadow that passed across my face. I was alerted to the presence of something living. It was different from the birds, and even though I was unsure of what it was, curiosity got the better of me.

I stumbled out of my corner, and just caught the flash of someone disappearing down the alley between two buildings across the way. Other than myself, the street seemed deserted. I shambled in the direction that I saw the person go. They hadn't seen me, and thought it was safe to go out.

10:37PM - Chapter Two:

Chapter Two:

It was the beginning of the Plague. No one really knew how it all started, but the dead began to rise. It was as if it had sprung out of thin air. A patient died in a hospital in lower Manhattan. Later, he rose in the morgue, and made his way through the hospital corridors.

He had bit a total of three persons before he was shot by an officer who happened to be transporting an inmate. They thought he might have been misdiagnosed, and had simply slipped into a coma. His attending physician was doubtful of that, but had no other explanation. The doctors were incredulous at the prospect of one rising from the dead, so they basically dismissed the thought, pending further investigation. They simply bandaged up the bite wounds and went about their business.

Within a few short days, the infection had spread. Word got out that the dead were indeed rising again, but the media dismissed it, many so called medical experts tried to give other explanations. The Haitian and Dominican communities in upper Manhattan recognized the phenomena, but for all the wrong reasons. They blindly entered into ritualistic praying, and sacrifices. The fundamentalists started prayer vigils, and felt that it was the beginning of Armageddon.

So much information was being suppressed, that people were not trusting that the government had their best interests at hand. Widespread panic ensued, and a mandatory evacuation was called. It was supposed to be well organized, but the same thing happened that we have all witnessed in earlier disasters. The mass exodus of people caused huge traffic jams, and fighting broke out. breakdowns on the various bridges and tunnels caused people to be forced to walk out, but the crowds were so huge, and the infected where intermingled with the rest.

Some people refused to leave, afraid of having their homes looted. They sited examples of how long it was taking for the government to help people get back on their feet after the various hurricanes of the recent past. The homeless population was basically ignored. The shelters were assisted in moving those people to safety, but the ones on the street were left to their own defenses.

Martial law was put in effect, but that was a failure too. The government soon learned that it was easier to virtually close off Manhattan, so that they may concentrate on the outlying areas. The city itself was so huge and virtually uncontrollable, most of the citizens who wanted to leave were successfully removed. But too much manpower was being focused on trying to get Manhattan under control, and the infection had certainly spread to the other boroughs and into New Jersey, Connecticut, and beyond. It was all that they could do to attempt to contain it to a small area, before it could spread across to the other states.

As a last ditch effort at forcing the remaining populace out of the city, electricity and water was shut down. The government didn’t want anyone trying to make a stand. They set up barricades at all exits from Manhattan, and anyone who could make it to the these were then quarantined, and taken to a shelter until the outbreak was over. Anyone else who refused to leave, may God have mercy on their soul.

There were quite a few people who were left behind. Many of them, people who lived on society's fringe. As was mentioned before, the homeless made a up a large percentage. There were also gangs who felt they could handle the situation on their own. Hell, they were better armed than most. They also had the attitude needed to control their own turf.

Many were willing to help the others who were left in their hoods, for a price. The usual drug dealing started right back up again, profiteering ran rampant. The junkies couldn't bring themselves to leave just yet. Their habit made them slaves to the call. As dangerous as it was to venture out to procure their fix, it was too much to try to get clean right now.

The dealers were willing to take items of value as well as cash, hoping to have a huge stockpile once this whole thing blew over. This led to further crimes, because once the cash ran out, then it was jewelry, then believe it or not, weapons. The junkies stopped at nothing to get high. It was an all consuming desire, and as long as they had a safe place to nod off, they would worry about the rest later.

Some had wanted to quit, but found it too difficult to deal with worrying about the undead, and being sick from kicking the habit. You had to be straight to handle the undead. And to stay straight meant venturing outside to loot more stuff to bring to the dealers. It was a vicious cycle that was to continue regardless of what was happening in the world.

The rest were everyday people. They were just trying to hold onto whatever they had. A deep mistrust of the authorities kept them locked and barricaded in their homes. They didn't want to go to the shelters because they knew them to be dangerous, especially after the recent event of Hurricane Katrina, people were extremely cautious of handing their trust completely over to the authorities. They felt they had better options than just sitting and waiting.

What if those shelters were over run? They wouldn't have a chance to defend themselves because whoever was in charge of those shelters would demand that all weapons be turned over. They would have no choices except to do as they were told. No, that wasn't the way for some people. They chose to wait it out, and defend their own, families and belongings.

Life in the city went on, although not in the way one would normally imagine. People tended to stay out of sight. Only venturing out of doors to look for the supplies needed to get through the next day. these were the opportunities that the undead were waiting for.

The dead, for the most part, did not actively seek out the living, unless they were attracted to them by sight, smell, or some other form of activity. The problem was that there were so many of them. It was dangerous to be caught in a large crowd of the undead. Although they were somewhat slow, they did get excited enough at the prospect of feeding to move in on short bursts of speed. Not exactly running, but fast enough to keep you on the move.

They also didn't feel pain. Not in the sense that a normal person was accustomed to. They did have a sense of touch. If they were burned with fire, they did react to it. They were in fact afraid of it. It was unknown as to the exact extent of their sensations. They seemed afraid, but being dead already, it didn't stop them from advancing. Fire could temporarily keep them at bay, but would not hold out as a permanent solution. Obviously, they simply waited until the fire burned down enough to move in again.

The only solution anyone had to defend themselves against the undead was to destroy the brain. This was discovered completely by accident. But once the word got out, people began to have hope again that a solution could be found, and the end of the Plague would come swiftly.

9:33AM

8:27AM - Chapter One:

Chapter One:

I open my eyes. The bright sunlight is a sharp contrast to the otherwise dingy surroundings I find myself in. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to focus, and there is definitely something different about my sight to begin with. My thoughts are cloudy and I can't think straight. My vision isn't much better. I can make out everything, but don't see things towards the side, my peripheral vision skewed, I focus on what's immediately in front of me.

I see a hand, a bloody and disfigured hand. There is a large bite on it, and the blood that had run down the length of my arm has now dried to a brownish red stain. I am fascinated by it. As I look down at the rest of me, I see rips and tears in my clothing. There are more bloody scratches and tears, but for the most part, I am intact. My clothes are a mess.

It must have rained recently, because there is a puddle of water nearby. I lean over and peer into it, seeing for the first time my reflection. My hair is disheveled, and my eye makeup is smeared under my eyes, otherwise my face bears no injuries. I see something sparkle in my hair. I try to see what it is, but all I can make of it is a dangling piece of flashing light, and it makes a tinkling noise when it moves. Content with what I see , I sit there a little while staring at myself. The lone earring sparkling in the sunlight keeps me occupied.

I do not wonder what has happened to me, and I do not care about anything else, but sitting there quietly enjoying the kaleidoscope of light flashing and sparkling, and the tiny, almost musical chimes that the earring is making when my head moves the slightest. I sit there in the early morning sunshine, my clothing torn and bloody, with the smell of rot and death all around me. It is now my perfume, and I wear it well. I have not a care in the world, except to amuse myself with my own reflection in a bloody pool of water at my side.

A shuffling noise attracts my attention, and my head turns in the direction the sound is coming from. A shape appears in front of me. It's in the same shape as me, only slightly different. This one has an arm completely torn off. It's clothes are also bloody and torn. It looks at me for a brief moment, and then continues to move along. I continue to look at it, and notice in the foreground there are others. Some are wandering slowly here and there. Others are simply sitting on the ground idly, picking at something... Something....I have a need to know what it is that they are doing with that something.

I pull myself up, trying to gain some sort of composure. I have one shoe missing, and I am stumbling. I need to get over there. What is that? I am moving, but barely, I can't seem to make very good progress. My need to get to whatever the other one has is urging me on. I fall, and continue to drag myself along on the ground. I can see it now, it's directly in front of me. I begin to salivate, and the urge to take it from the other is uncontrollable.

RED. All I can see is red. It is so beautiful to me. My desire for this red consumes me. The wetness makes it sparkle in the sunlight. I like sparkle. The smell of it draws me nearer. I didn't know it could smell so good My own red does not smell as good as this red. I want that red!

I reach out and the other one tries to turn away from me. Anger and hatred fill up inside me. I grab the other by the arm and turned him back towards me. I catch a glimpse of the red again. The other one does not want to let me have it. But I will have it I use all of my energy to rear myself up and pound at him. The other one doesn't want to take his grip off the red, so he just tries to avoid my blows. I rip and snatch at the red, but the other one is protecting it. I will have that red!

Now my hand finds a rock, and I don't know what made me do it, but I begin to smash him in the face and head with the rock. My fury at being denied the red is pushing me on, and I lose touch with what I am doing completely. All there is are grunts and groans, arms flailing and the dull thud of me fighting for the object of my desire.

Suddenly, it's over. The other has let go of the red and I snatch it up, squeezing it between my fingers. It is somewhat warm, and even though I don't know why, this makes it all the more appealing. Bright red blood oozes from it, and I want it in me The beautiful sparkling warm red is everything to me, and I must have it. I bring it up to my mouth and taste it. A feeling of ecstacy fills me. I can feel the trickle of warmth run down my throat, and it feels like nothing is more important than getting more of this red inside of me. I smear the red from my lips with my tongue, and a little shiver runs down my spine. Now I have a purpose. The red is the one thing I must always have, and I must get it no matter what. My desire for more is insatiable. I look around me for more, but to no avail.

Hours have gone by, although I have no sense of time. After looking around for more of the red, I found myself wandering down a side street, and into an alley. I encountered a few more of the others along the way. I had no interest in them, and neither did they for me. It was hard for me to move along. My legs were somewhat stiff, and I had very little control of my movements. It took a lot of focus to get myself moving in a given direction.

Once, when I thought I saw something similar to my desire, I got excited enough to move at a faster pace. But it was not what I wanted, so I contented myself with slowly shuffling towards no place in particular. It started to rain softly, and there was something familiar about the wetness. I stood in the rain, and waited for something, I do not know what.

When it started to come down harder, I moved myself into an alcove. Lightning flashed, and I looked up into the sky. The flash of light somehow frightened me. I pressed against the wall tighter. I heard a squeaking sound and saw a large rat run across the alley directly in front of me. Something made me attracted to the rat. I don't know what it was, I just had to get at it.

I moved in the direction the rat ran, and I noticed a doorway. I stumbled towards it, and the door gave a little. I pushed it open further and stepped into a corridor. The door made a sound when it closed behind me.
I heard a voice, but I don't understand what it said. I did understand what it meant. Instinct took over, and I began to move with a renewed purpose. A man stood at the top of the stairs. He was speaking to me, but I still couldn't understand what he was saying.

My hair was hanging down, and my clothing was soaked through from the rain. Apparently, the man didn't see my wounds, but had his eyes transfixed on my breasts, which were quite visible through my drenched blouse. I wanted to grab him then, but I couldn't quite figure out how to negotiate the stairs.

The man seemed unsure of what to do with me, but he didn't run away. The hall was somewhat dark, and I wasn't making any threatening moves, so the man proceeded to come down the stairs towards me. He continued speaking to me.

Mistaking me for an innocent victim, perhaps, he reaches out to me. My hand latches onto his arm. He hesitates for a second, and proceeds to touch my breast. His breathe smells strong, a familiar smell of cheap whiskey.

I don't know why this man is exciting to me. I lean in, and in an instant, I tear a piece of flesh from his throat. He punches me, and I can feel the blows, but there is no real pain. I don't know why I wanted to bite him, but when I did, I saw the red, and it got me more excited. The discovery of the object I most desired, the hunt for it found fruition.

Gurgling sounds came from him as he slid down the wall to the floor. I straddled him, ripping at the soft flesh of his stomach. I found more treasure there. Slippery entrails slid through my fingers as I gorged on him. In that moment, I learned what it was to seek out the living, and their importance to me.

I was ripping and tearing at his clothing, and skin, anything I could do to get at him, to get at the red. My face pressed into his stomach, the warmth felt so good to me. moving lower, I found something else. I opened my mouth and received it in one bite, pulling it away from his body with my teeth until it snapped free from him in one burst of red flowing down my lips, and dripping wetness down my breasts where his hands were just a moment ago.

Satisfied for the moment, I lean back against the wall. I watch as the blood spills out and pools around the body of the man I had just destroyed. He stopped fighting against me only moments after I had bit into his throat. There was hardly a struggle at all. Previously I hadn't really comprehended why I attacked him like I did. But a realization had dawned on me that this was the way to get at what I desired.

When I had first awakened, I had no knowledge of where I was or what I was to do. I still did not fully understand what all of this was about. I was a creature of pure instinct. I am what I am. A dead thing, doomed to walk the earth until...until what? I had no real purpose. I didn't care to have one either. Well that wasn't exactly true. My only purpose it seemed, was my pursuit of the Red.

His hand twitched. I looked down at his face as his eyes opened. Our eyes met, but he no longer held any interest from me. He rose, and silently walked towards the door where I had entered earlier. The latch on the door had been broken, so it once again stood ajar. He simply reached his hand in between the slight opening and pulled the door easily towards him, and walked out into the alley. Although I had done pretty extensive damage to his body, none had affected his limbs, so he had no problem walking. He was slow, to be sure, but I simply followed him out into the cool evening. This one would pass into a new existence, one that I had only recently acquired for myself.

The rain had stopped, and the streetlights made the pavement sparkle. Once again, I became fascinated by the tiny lights that glittered here and there. A fog rolled in and it was fairly silent except for a muted wail off in the distance. I stopped to listen, unsure of it's meaning. There were no other sounds, so I continued to shuffle along, not knowing where to go. The moon rose full and bright. I was alone with the misty fog, and sparkling night.