‘I hurt. All I can feel is pain. My skin is so dry it feels like it’s splitting every step I take. My tongue is swollen. Everyday it’s getting harder and harder to breath. My insides feel like jelly and my blood is boiling. I want to curl up and die, but I can’t. I have this deep urge to keep moving, to keep searching for food, water, something to keep me alive, if only for a little while longer.’
‘I’ve been wandering for… God, I have no idea. I don’t even know where I am. Everything is hazy, like looking through a dirty glass. I can hardly remember a thing except wandering and… Hospital! I was in a hospital. I had a cold. No, pneumonia, I had pneumonia or something. Urgh, why is this so hard? My nurse, she was pretty. She got my cold and the doctor too. We all… We all… WHY CAN’T I REMEMBER?
I’m so hungry. I’m so tired. I just want to lie down for a bit. There’s nothing out here anyway. I probably won’t find anything. I’m going to die if I don’t find food.’
“Hey! Hey! I’m here!”
‘God, my mouth is so dry I’m just mumbling. I have to keep going. They must have food. They have to have seen me. God, I hope they saw me. I need guns? Why are they pointing guns at me? Oh God! Oh God, they’re going to kill me! Jesus, why won’t my legs move? I need to get out of here! Come on damn it! Move! Move faster! Oh God please! Please help me, please he—-’
Sergeant Rale looms over his kill, watching the final signs of life fade away.
“Damn waste of 13 bullets if you ask me. Should have just nuked the city and been done with it.” He yells into his walkie, “All clear, ready to bag and tag.” He lights a cigarette before cleaning chunks of flesh from his uniform. “I fucking hate zombie detail.”