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Writer
Join Date: Jul 2005
Location: Maine, USA
Gender: Male
Posts: 39
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Genocide
Here's one I wrote a few years back. It's a short about the final moments of a zombie epidemic survivor after he's lost everything.
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GENOCIDE
written by chris dixon
GENOCIDE n. extermination of a race or cultural group.
It was the middle part of the summer. Miami was a hot place. It was nearing dusk, and the sun was getting ready to set on the beaches of Miami, Florida. One soul still existed though. When all hope seemed to be gone. But it was. No females left to reproduce. And the final man wasn’t emotionally stable either. It was David Berkley.
The man looked over the quiet sea. The waves that washed upon the beaches. The only thing that filled the air was the moaning of the hungry ghouls below. Shambling around for food, but they didn’t know exactly why or for what reason.
David was surprisingly quiet as he looked over the streets around him. The beaches. The dead walking the streets, and the bones of the once lively humans scattered around.
The roof of the general store was his only living quarters. There was no way onto the roof. He got on by parachuting down from a helicopter that was shot down by one of the remaining members of a cult that had been running all around the Florida/Georgia area.
David wore a gray, and worn out vest. Several of the pouches were filled with ammunition for his shotgun, and handgun. He was also wearing a white undershirt, that was dirty, and torn. He had a baseball cap with the Atlanta Braves "A" on it. He was a huge Braves fan.
It had been at least three years since the fall of the final remaining National Emergency Broadcast Network building. There were different "field studios" scattered around the U.S., that were set up after the epidemic started.
David had been fighting this through since the start of it five years ago. When it started off, he stayed at his home in Atlanta, Georgia. His wife, Jennifer and two kids Cody and John were with him. Cody was an honor roll student in the fifth grade. He was looking forward to starting middle school the following year, but it looked like his dreams of growing up, and going to middle school wouldn’t come true. He hated it, just as much as his father did. John was more of "C" and "B" student. He was a senior in high school, and ready to graduate the following spring. The family’s hopes of staying at their home shattered, when the rate of the dead rose.
The president would make an address every night to every other night explaining the new advancements and updates. He would also include the estimated undead to human ratio in his report, which skyrocketed over the first year.
It was a real bastard to handle. The president announced the United States was going to a State of Martial Law in January 2004, just three days after the new year. The military was doing a terrible job of holding up, but who could blame them. The surviving scientists estimated a 75:1 undead to human ratio. By February, instead of kissing their lovers on Valentine’s Day, they were kissing their asses goodbye.
While protecting his family, David kept a close eye on the news and documented all the events. He had a whole log, which he eventually typed onto his computer. Cody died not long after they made a long run for the mall. All they had was a small car, and they had to run across the mall parking lot to make it to the front. When getting into the mall, a zombie bit Cody. Cody came back as a zombie, which David had a hard time shooting, but finally did. John came down with cancer, but they were unsure what kind of cancer.
After the military and government put the idea of voodoo on their list of possible causes, the first South American case was reported. In Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The government was running out of ideas fast. The second South American case was later reported in Sao Paulo, and a third in Campinas, which were both in Brazil. Scientists tried to figure out why the U.S. was falling, while the rest of the planet was slowly experiencing the epidemic.
June came around, and the allies of the U.S. were getting caught up in their own shit. Shit that became unbearable, as they got knee deep in it. All of Europe was getting caught up in the hysteria of it all. Poor Russia was screwed to hell before they knew it. Before the U.S. knew it, they were alone.
A year had passed since the epidemic started. The living dead built up outside the mall. They soon broke in, and killed John and Jennifer. David left and went on the road. Someone might wonder why it took about four years to reach Miami. With the voodooists, raiders, bikers, and living dead, it doesn’t make anything any easier.
Few survivors were alive in Russia. Some of the major cities were turned into refugee camps. Reports shot up sky high though. All in there south eastern parts of Russia. The cities were in the area of Chelyabinsk, Omsk, Novosibirsk, Barnaul, and along the Ob River. Russians and their low economy turned to the U.S. for help. Soon more reports were in the European part of Russia. Parts like Moscow, Nizhniy, and Novgrod. Countries like the Ukraine and Belarus were getting worried that the hell would spread to them. People started hijacking boats and ships all along the northern border of Russia. People left for Antarctica. Some stayed within Russian territory by going to Russian islands like Severnaya Island, New Siberian Island, and Wrangel Island.
Three years into the epidemic, Japan had practically fallen. Everyone was locked onto one island, and cluttered. The dead rapidly rose. People were going insane, and getting killed. It was pure hysteria. Tokyo called upon the U.S.’s help, but by the time some reinforcements showed up, they were gone. No one was around.
The middle east was fighting each other and the rising dead. Africa had fallen. By the fourth year, the planet wasn’t together anymore. But it was never together to start with, so there was no one to blame but themselves for all the years of ruthless fighting. All the survivors in the U.S. had left for Greenland, and other islands.
David stood recalling all these events. He remembered every event that was logged onto his event log on his laptop. The death of his family. The loss of all hope. He sometimes wondered why he had to live. Why he should live. Then he thought of it. Because there was a little bit of hope.
He watched the dead crawl around the beaches of Miami. The sun was going down, or at least getting there. David sat down. His ladder that he found was lying next to him. He used it as a bridge to get across to the next building over, which was an apartment building. He made the long run through the apartment, and outside into the general store.
There was a slight breeze, that he barely felt. But he enjoyed it. It was about the only thing he enjoyed now. He thought about it, as he pulled out his black laptop computer. He opened the lid. It was already started up. He moved the cursor using his finger on the mouse pad, to the "Event Log" icon. He double-clicked on it. The log opened. He looked it over, for old time’s sake.
AUGUST 2, 2003
11:24 A.M. EST
I am sitting at work right now. As usual, it’s hell. But I noticed something on the internet today. I thought it was just some lie or something posted by a tabloid. It said somewhere in New York City, a dead person had come back to life and committed an act of violence or something. I was thinking it was about one of those horror movies.
So later, when I went to get some coffee in the break room, everyone was crowded around the TV. I wondered what the hell was going on, and went to join the crowd. Sure enough, according to the address from the president, surely a dead body reanimated out in New York City.
I checked it out on the internet. According to the major news sites, every gun shop in the New York area sold out before eleven o’clock this morning. I’m going to go check this out. See you later. If I’m alive.
AUGUST 17, 2003
11:31 P.M. EST
I’m hidden in a bomb shelter I found just outside of Miami. I have been running around Florida. The small towns are a wreck, but the cities are worse. Tallahassee is a freaking mess. The streets are torn apart. It was evident that a cult had been there. But which one was not identifiable. There were many suicide and Armageddon cults around.
I tried crossing into the Georgia or Alabama, just to get the hell out of here, but the borders were lined up with fields of mines. Sixteen military camps were set up twelve miles outside the base
According to the final reports that various news websites on the internet made, things only got worse. But reports were found in an abandoned military base, with possible evidence of a cause. Dr. Seth Moore wrote that he was coming close to getting evidence of the cause being a virus, but was killed by one of the cults before he could prove it.
I’m getting tired. Supplies low, and I’m gonna blow this joint tomorrow. I’m going to get some sleep, I’ve got a long day ahead of me. Good night, and maybe goodbye.
David skipped some entries, and went further into the log’s future.
NOVEMBER 11, 2003
6:44 P.M. EST
Making a run across the border line into Alabama was crazy back in September. The mines blew, and the electric fences shocked the dead. But they were unaffected, as the collision of them, and the fences caused an early fourth of July fireworks show. It was clear no military personnel were around.
The N.E.B.N. was still on the air, but they stated they weren’t sure for how long. They said the president was alive, and well at Camp David. The president announced there was a giant "underground city" that was built for the worst of the worst case scenarios, and survivors would be taken in. I wish they had down that earlier, so I could have headed for it sooner.
John is feeling lousy, and I don’t know how much life he has left in him. Hell, I’m not even sure how long he’s had this cancer for. Jennifer is getting really worried, and trying to keep her calm is getting harder.
Each and every day, more of those ghouls are building up outside. Those bastards will break in sooner or later.
It was unbearable to read anymore about the mild part of the situation. The situation got so bad, and out of hand, he didn’t want to worry about it anymore. He wished he could wake up in his bed with his wife one morning, and have it all been just a bad dream. But it couldn’t be that way.
He set the laptop down on the roof. He pulled the radio of his belt. He looked at it for a second. He hadn’t heard anyone over it in about a year. He hadn’t talked to a human being in a year. The loneliness was hurting him. The loneliness was killing him.
David felt as if he had lost it all. Perhaps he did. What little dignity and hope he had left was gone. One thing was for sure, his faith had gone to hell. Sometimes he thought about suicide. He thought he was a lost cause now. There’s no one there to appreciate what he’s doing. There’s no one there to care. He then thought about him possibly being the last man on Earth, and if that was the case, he’d kill off the human race after taking his own life. It was already killed off anyway. He needed a female to repopulate, and there was none left.
He dropped the radio, and stood up. He looked into the sunset.
"Sometimes I wonder about the little things."
It was pointless. Life was meaningless now. Every breath he took was filled with the hideous odor of the living dead. It was almost as bad as the smog from factories, if not worse.
A few more of those things walked around the beach. Some on the road. Same as every other one of them. Motorized thoughts. While hunting for food, and operating on what memories they had left from their past lives.
"The little things that passed and took for granted."
David wondered what his wife was doing. In the peaceful rest of heaven. Was this hell. Had David died and gone to hell. He considered it. But it was too painful. He thought hell would be a bit better, but still painful.
"The little things that seem big now."
It was unknown to even himself on why he spoke to himself. Maybe it was to hear at least somebody’s voice.
"July 21, 1998, we went swimming after sight seeing all day."
David wiped a tear from his face.
"Four years earlier, I met my wife here."
A tear strolled down David’s face. He wiped it with his dirty, worn out, and faded sleeve. He was torn, and depressed.
"They killed her. I loved her more than life itself."
Emotions shot through David’s body, and it gave him goosebumps. He fell to his knees in tears. He grabbed his rifle, and slammed it on the edge of the roof. It cracked a bit, but didn’t break.
"They killed. Mother *******! I loved her, and you took her away!"
The real thing that shook David up was if his family, or even his wife, was walking among the dead. One of them. Part of the pure motorized hunt for human flesh. David was the remaining factor. But no women were alive. At least that he knew of. For all he knew, he was the last person alive. No sense in staying alive. No women, no reproduction. If he couldn’t reproduce with any female, then the human race was done. They lost the war.
"It’s all over. We lost it. We really lost the war. It’s the humans fault," hatred shot through David’s body. "It was all the ignorant, greedy, ******* humans!"
What was he yelling at? There was no one around. The dead were just there with the animals who were retaking what was originally their’s.
David blamed nobody but himself, even though he had nothing to do with the fall. He wasn’t one of the faceless, lying, useless, ass hole politicians. He wasn’t one of the weaker of the military, who failed to live up to the standards of survival. He was just a civilian searching for truth, and a safe point.
But he decided it was all over for him. He grabbed his laptop, and opened the "Event Log". He started a new entry. He typed:
JULY 27, 2008
8:01 P.M. EST
This is bound to be my final entry. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not standing up, and fighting at the start. Instead I hid, and defended only myself. I can’t live with this guilt that haunts me every day.
Jennifer is dead, and has been for several years now. John died also, because of the cancer, and Cody died because of a severe bite from one of those undead bastards.
For those who may come along this. Any survivors. Future dominant and/or intelligent race of the Earth. Whoever. I wish you luck in fighting off this epidemic. The epidemic that created out judgment day, and finalized out fate. I am David Richard Berkley, and I wish the future of the human race luck. I hope to join my wife, and children in heaven. Where we can live without pain, or worry.
Goodbye…forever.
David R. Berkley
David closed the lid of his laptop, and sat for a second. He felt the breeze of the ocean water. The sound of the moaning, and the faint sound of the waves beating upon the beach. No sounds of people. It killed him deeply.
He put his laptop on the surface of the general store roof gently. He grabbed his hand gun, and stood up. His final moments approached him. David could feel the pain, but the satisfaction that he would soon be away from it all.
It would be all over. Just moments away. David stepped up to the edge of the roof. He held the hand gun to his head. He had a grip on the trigger.
"Forgive me god, for all of my sins. I love you Jennifer. And also Cody, and John," David said, getting ready to squeeze the trigger.
Sweat started to roll down his face as his life was in jeopardy. But he didn’t care. He pulled the trigger. The bullet shot threw his head, and came out the other end. He was dead.
The body fell forward, and fell down. It slammed into the ground, and his arm twisted backwards. The zombies noticed their meal, and moved in on it. Grabbing, and tearing the flesh. They mutilated David’s dead body.
Maybe there was hope left. Someone out there. A man and woman. A new age Adam and Eve. Somewhere hidden away in someplace safe. Ready to reproduce, and expand the human race. To decrease the undead to human ratio. Just maybe.
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