• Once upon a time, there was a certain person. Who had a certain distinct feature. A nice story this seems. But truly, this person was a zombie, along with many others. An epidemic had spread and many people had turned into creatures, having the urge to kill others and have those become zombies. These creatures were dead or undead, but still standing. The thing is all these zombies had the urge to kill and murder every single soul on this planet. There was a zombie with a mind and the thing about him is, he was different. He blended in with the rest and had been shot at many times. But the reason he stood out, was because he spoke like a human, and had the knowledge of one still. He spent most of his time in an abandoned house which was once his own. His town was a mere village, a small place but still some survived. So as he rested, he'd hear shots in the distance or right outside, and hear screams at the same time. Moaning from zombies surrounded him along with all else noises. Soon he decided to interact with the humans maybe help them. A spur of the moment he decided to try and help them, maybe kill his own kind. It was a risk but one he was willing to take. His family was still alive in a nearby warehouse he believed, his wife and son. His son was 18 and occasionally this zombie would help them without them knowing. Occasionally he threw weapons through the window or barricaded doors to help them survive. The zombies wouldn't attack him since he was of their own. The zombies didn't have the same blood as humans, so they were as much of a need. The day had come for John; the zombie, to venture out to his family. He grabbed a knife knowing he could get close to the other zombies and kill them one by one stealthily. He left his house and slowly made progress to the warehouse nearby cutting up zombies as he went along. The town was quiet suddenly and the silence was what scared him most if anything. As if everyone was dead. The night darkness had enveloped the whole town so he never knew what would appear. Soon he reached the warehouse, the barricade was worn out, but still there a little bit. He crawled in and followed the shadows of the large structure. Moving through several doorways before reaching his family. He entered the room where they were, a small one with several cargo crates in the area that they used to create a small wall for a bit of a defense. John began to crawl in and then called out their names. They remembered his voice even though it was a bit scratchy. "Who....whose there?" echoed in the warehouse. Soon noises were heard of the barricades being attacked. John worried but kept crawling toward the defense and replied. "Your father.." he whispered in return. The noises got louder and louder as the barricade was being ripped apart. It was bad enough already but soon it would even appear to exist. John stood up in the shadows. Barely seen, he put out his left arm and waved, the one part of him not infected quite yet. He then walked out and a screech was heard loudly, his wife was scared it was clear. She screamed and it echoed all over the warehouse clearing out the noise from the zombies. John walked closer and closer toward the barricade. A shout was heard but, it wasn't his son or wife, "INCOMING!" A man then flew through the window at the top and fell onto a light in the air and hung there for a second. The man had a pistol in his hand and saw John slowly creeping toward them. The man shouted once again, "I'LL SAVE YOU!" John dove for the shadows again and the wife whispered to him, "I love you." John whispered back, but barely able to speak. "Good... by...good bye.... good bye my love." Several gunshots were heard and the room flashed. John was pierced by the bullets and almost appeared as if he were stuck to the ground now. His family began climbing up onto the boxes and watched dreadfully as John passed away. "May his soul rest in piece now." their son said. John's wife began to cry but wept away her tears as the man from above jumped down. She slapped him and he fell off the cargo box. It was several feet but he managed to get back up. But it seemed it may of been pointless. Noises clearly had shown the barricades broke. The wood was thrown around and any metal was climbed over. Several pieces of glass pierced their feet but they ran into the warehouse. One, two, three, ten, twenty, fifty, hundred, two hundred, they all poured in. The man got up to soon be ripped apart by many. The son began firing at the zombies with his pistol and the wife continued to cry again in fear. The boxes were being hit at and soon it fell over. This was the end it seemed. They fell off unexpectedly into a crowd of zombies. Living for three more seconds or so, and soon riding along the wave of the zombies being bit at hit as they went by. A thousand zombies each getting one or two hits in tended to end it. They were brutally harmed and to become a zombie was a rare chance at how bad it had been. John was ignored and trampled upon over the crowd. And that was the end of the story, John entered with hope, but died officially with his family at least.