False Prayers

Superstition is the belief that some action or thing is lucky or unlucky. What a load of bullshit thought Elsie as she held her crucifix close to her mouth and whispered her prayers to it. She still prayed to God in hopes that he heard her pleas and protected her from further harm.
Although, why should she continue to practice such a meaningless habit after everything that had happened so far. The dead coming back to life and in turn taking the lives of those who did them no harm.
"Why are you letting this happen?" she asked. No answer just like all the other times she asked. Does God really even exist, she asked herself. She stared at her crucifix with burning eyes, her brow tight and curled around her eyes as she focused on the inanimate object.
Why wouldn't there be a God? How can something so wonderful as man kind created in God's own image not be created by a greater being with omniscient power? There's no way he could let a plague of pure evil overtake and ravage his precious creation. This was the work of the devil, of pure evil that hated the love and happiness that man has brought God. But she could still hear them several floors down being shot outside. Inbetween she heard the screams of other victims who fell prey to them, only to be shot afterward by a compasionate sniper.
The Devil has turned God's precious creation 'man' against itself.
The news kept reporting that a virus or epidemic was the cause of this rapidly growing plague that turned its victims into killers. People were envisioning demons and hell right before their eyes without question. The blood and guts that spilled from helpless nonbelievers and worshippers of God alike. Elsie watched as her best friend gnawed and tore the flesh and muscle from her own little brother's arm and face. They were attacking and eating each other in the streets right outside her window. She looked outside and saw the bright sun in the open sky with only a few clouds decorating its surrounding. Elsie picked herself off of the floor and crept toward the window, outside the streets were empty.
No wait, there's another one as it shuffled into the open. Another ran past it searching feverishly for food, it twitched like a carnivorous raptor salivating with hunger.
It still looked human, normal even except that it clothes were covered in blood and its face was ripped open on the left side. Elsie covered her eyes and looked away; she didn't want to believe that this was how humanity was coming to an end. God wouldn't let this happen to his children. Religious faith always preached how God punished those who with evil in their hearts and protected those who embraced his name.
How could anyone still believe that in the face of this hell that was alive and spreading? Why was she still alive she thought. She didn't want to continue living in this nightmarish hell, but felt that by doing that she would be commiting an ultimate sin against God. Again, why did she continue believing in such a thing? It was the same as being superstitious wasn't it, she thought. She walked toward the kitchen where her cousin and uncle were sitting lecturing to each from the bible. Why did they still believe or have faith in something that couldn't answer why the plague know as hell was spreading like wildfire.
She didn't care anymore as she pocketed her crucifix and walked toward her mother's bedroom. Religious faith couldn't explain what was happening so why would she continue to pray for salvation. There were other things to be hopeful for, weren't there?
Elsie prayed hoping that was true at least.

Rotted Away Without A Second Thought

The sun set in the distance leaving behind a faded red-orange blotch across the sky that was surrounded by the expanding dark blue night sky. Shadows crept across abandoned buildings that were once occupied and full of life. Even the streets, day or night that were a breeding ground for activity by this city's inhabitants were empty. An abandoned city, dead silence, and dark shadows that cast their embrace on something that once was.
Yet, it's not completely dead or quiet.
A soft hum is echoing through the streets. It's low almost unhearable, but it's getting louder and more wide spread. Looking down the street inbetween the landscape of brick and stone buildings, and cars that were left abandoned across the street an unintelligible wail has risen.
Out of the shadows and from behind corners wierd figures are emerging into the open. They don't acknowledge each other by waves or nodds just that same thoaty moan. The streets are beginning to get crowded with them as if they didn't care where they walked. Where are they going? The city is alive with activity, but these people are strange. Why are they gathering together and marching in unison? Dragging their feet or shuffling across they move. Society has vanished, at least here, and these people are all that's left but had long been forgotten.
As we look closer we find one of them lying on the ground in an alley. A shambler walks by and doesn't even look or care that he's there. He's been long forgotten so one wouldn't even care if he was alive or dead. However, he is alive by the twitching in his jaw and arms.
He's decided to come out again and search the streets around his resting spot. Lying motionless on the ground next to a large garbage container he rose. He wailed in a long and low almost guttural voice, it was time to feed. Sitting up right he looked around letting his eyes adjust to dark, shadowy alley way. In the distance he could hear the voices of other beings calling out in the same tone. Was it time to eat for them? What about him? He didn't care as he looked at the bony forearm lying on the ground next to him.
There were still bits of tendon and muscle attached. It should be obvious what this thing is, a zombie. He was human once but not any more, hadn't been for several months now. The smell of shit and decay all around him, but again he didn't care or think twice about it as he picked himself up. The taste of blood and raw flesh was still in his mouth. He wanted more, he could eat all day if he had the chance, and depending on whether he could find prey.
To this zombie, we'll call him Terry, nothing else mattered except to feed his unquenchable thirst for flesh or warm blood that still pumped through a very much alive and screaming victim.
Terry walked out into the open street and saw others like him. Others that wore the same wounds of infection across open puss filled facial tears that bled. Blood covered clothes that hid exposed dangling intestines or other organs. The overpowering smell of rotten bodies, the stink of vomit and shit induced road kill covered these people like a naturally fragranced human odor. They just continued marching forward to some unknown destination oblivious to the state of their physical being or foul offensive decay.
Terry joined a small group of shambling corpses that marched down the road and voiced their moans of hunger into the night. It was a monotonous cycle of walking, moaning, and feasting. At no moment did any of them stop to think or even look at what they were doing to reason and ask why. Terry behaved the same way, like all the others that were walking along side him, he didn't care. He just did because he had to, he wanted to kill and eat to satisfy himself.
Something pushed past him almost knocking him over. Terry hissed and gnawed his teeth in irritation. He was about to give chase when he realized it wasn't food, but one of his more mobile brethren. Another ran past him followed by another, suddenly rouge packs of zombie sprinters filtered through them. Terry watched as one of them stood for a moment and twitched in different directions looking for food. The sprinter or Rapture zombie sniffed the air then hissed with irratated anger before joining the other runners up ahead. Terry growled and wailed after them. They must have found something.
The night sky was pitch black as the few street lights that worked illuminated the path ahead of them. Gun fire erupted from around the next street corner. It was a loud procession of automatically fired weapons that sounded like spurts of ricocheting metal. The other zombies around Terry started walking faster, the hunger in their agonized wails filled him with excitement. That sound usaully meant food was near by.
Around the corner stood a giant wall of metal and debris that blocked the way, a barricade of sorts. The sound of gun fire continued more loudly now, closer. Terry looked up and saw spurts of white and yellow flashing from the dark, shadowed areas of the buildings around the large metal barricade. It was a forified trap by the living to exterminate any of walking diseased that dared to venture into this location. He didn't know if there was any food ahead of the large mob of rotting cannibals, but his own blind hunger to feed himself lured Terry further into the massacre and extermination of his bretheren.
Bullets pierced through frail decomposed skin. Body parts were torn or left hung by small strands of flesh and ligaments. Others dropped to the ground like heavy sand bags. Their dying wails were drowned out by the loud echo of metallic death machines that fired with only a single purpose. Terry stared with an amazed blank expression on his face at the lights that killed off his brothers. He looked up at the dark sky and moaned into the night never feeling or understanding the round that punched a hole in his chest.
Another round ripped through the right side of his forehead. Bits of his skull shattered and dark gray tumorous portions of brain were shredded into wet paste. It was fast and he never took his gaze off the dark sky above him. Terry's zombified corpse hit the ground among a landfill of dead rotten corpses. Those who could escape did, mostly the sprinters, the others were left for target practice.
Without a second glance or thought it was over, another win for the living. As for Terry, lying there a battered and faceless body no one would give a shit that he had just died for a second time in his existence.

Epidemic Scale

The attacks continued even after precautionary measures were taken to protect the public from harm. The TV set was on and the local news station was teleprompting a list of emergency rescue and collection depots. Javier sat on the couch in the living room staring at the set. They've been repeating the same list for the past two days and the sight of the same bold white words scrolling along a blue background was boring him half to death. At least the local networks weren't airing the prompts on a twenty four hour basis, he thought.
"Anything new?" asked his brother Alex as he walked into the room.
"Same old crap," answered Javier. "If they have nothing new to tell us than why keep on airing the same thing. I mean I would rather see someone talking to me telling me what new developments have arisen."
"You know the reason they air this is to keep reminding us that there are some places we can go when the shit hits the fan."
Javier just shrugged on the couch. His brother was right, but he still felt that it was better to have someone live and in person sitting in a news studio informing people about what was happening. It didn't matter if the anchor had two days worth of grime on their face, or wearing the same clothes for the same amount of time. At least it meant that people were still alive and trying to get the word out on what was happening.
Everytime that prompt came up Javier feared that it would not go away. What if the news people never come back on again, he thought. The fact that news was still broadcasting kept the public from reacting irrationally. In his own Bronx neighborhood, apartment complexes had become barricaded fortresses. Windows on the first floor were nailed shut with wooden planks or steel bars. Front entrances were also reinforced and kept guarded by apartment residents on hourly shifts.
Needless to say this area was self quarantined. Other residents from other neighborhoods managed to escape and based their camps in the streets outside the apartment complexes before the area was sealed off. Javier walked over to his barred second floor window and looked outside. People were walking around carrying bags on their shoulders, others were talking with each other. Cars were parked at odd angles and blocking street intersections.
"I'm heading out," said Javier. "I can't stay in here I need to see if there's anything going on outside."
"Why bother," asked his brother.
"I just need a breath of fresh air."
"Fresh air?" said Alex. "Don't you mean shit air."
Javier smiled. The quality of the air outside was starting to smell rather rank.
"I'll be back in a bit. Try to keep a ear open for any new reports."
His brother just nodded.

Javier opened the latch to the roof entrance and stepped outside. The afternoon sky was a clear blue horizen with a few scattered clouds floating around in random spots. Staring out across the rooftops of other apartment buildings you couldn't think that anything was wrong. The only obvious signs were the random fires and large columns of smoke that rose into the sky, and the sound.
He walked closer to the edge and realized the sound was louder now then it ever was. The sounds of the dead at first came floating in the air like a low hum and it grew louder indicating that their numbers were increasing, as well as the fact that they were moving. How long before they tried to attack this area, he thought. The barricades were well constructed, but they wouldn't last forever.
He sniffed the air and their stink filtered into his nostrils.
"The shit stink is getting worse."
"Javier where are you?" called his brother through their walkie talkies.
"What is it?"
"You better come down here and look at this," he said. "There's a news update that's airing some important stuff."
"I'll be there in a minute."
Javier took one more look around his neighborhood then looked toward Manhattan. He wondered if the others were okay before he turned and walked back inside.

"What's going on?"
"Check it out," answered Alex.
A news anchor was sitting behind the desk looking disheveled as ever. Messy hair and a thick five o' clock shadow decorated his demeanor.
"Once again the military has annouced that measures to eradicate the epidemic has proven unsuccessful," announced the news anchor.
"Well that was a given," said Alex.
"Yeah it just means that there are more zombies walking around."
"While the effort to eradicate the infection and its carriers will continue," said the anchor. "A larger plan of action to contain the epidemic and possibly start evactuations is being put into motion."
What were they planning to do, thought Javier.
"Again to reiterate, this zombie epidemic is starting to grow out of control. The military along with local and state authorities are devising plans to deal with the matter and primarily assist the public."
"What should we do?" asked Alex.
"Nothing for now. We're pretty safe here and if things get crazy we'll deal with it."
The news anchor continued to talk in the background. Javier knew they were doing to right thing by holding out here a little longer. The building was well fortified, and he was prepared to fight back if needed to protect what was his. He had to keep trying to communicate with the others. He only hoped that they were still alive.