Chapter 4mature

The town I live in is like a fucking apocalyptic wasteland to begin with, so it took a few moments to realise anything was actually wrong with the place.

In the distance I saw the local S*Mart, and yeah, nothing unusual there, people stumbling around the car park pushing trolleys and getting in each others way. Absolutley a normal evening, people pushing and shoving around for bargains and those who just go there for the hell of it cos they haven't got anything better to do.

Except...well...my extensive knowledge of zombie lore told me that I didn't need binoculars to see that they were all dead. It was the smell that gave it away, and oh the fact that some of them were on fire.

Most people who shop there are probably brain dead anyway.

Hell, most of the people who probably work there are brain dead.

People should try getting a real job, a skill, a trade....rather than just conform to a corporate mentality. Yeah...big deal you can stack shelves an push items across a conveyor belt....try making 400 melon fans with passion fruit coluis in one afternoon...that's work.

Not that my trade could really help me at the moment unless I could "Juliene" slice a zombie with my kitchen knife I still had clasped in my hand. Or maybe I could turn them all into a big Shepherds Pie.....

I wasn't taking this seriously at all, I mean...zombies for fucks sake. I used to say to my friend Terry who worked in a bank...

"When the zombie apocalypse arrives and after we defeat them, we will have to rebuild society. I'm the guy they are gonna come to cos people will always need feeding."

I wonder where Terry is now.

Probably dead. I don't think someone who's good with money could buy their way out of a situation like this.

The only thing that would work would be cold hard steel, or maybe bullets.

What I would do for a sniper rifle right now....