The Dead Walked the Earth

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He didn't usually take such long showers, but he'd been so cold that afternoon, it was the only way to warm up. Finally, he shut off the water and snatched a towel from just beyond the curtain. Cool air blew through the tiny window near the ceiling.

He made sure to avoid the cold tiles when he stepped out of the shower and onto the rug. He at himself in the mirror. He had an average face. Round chin, brown hair, green eyes and a pimple or two. Nothing to be proud or ashamed of. He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste onto it. He scrubbed his teeth while he opened the door.

He stepped into a cold puddle, and startled, he jumped back. It was a pool of milk with cereal floating within it. Next to it was a plastic bowl and a metal spoon. "Sweetheart, you gonna clean this up?" He asked, stepping over it and going to his room to change into some pajamas. He closed the door behind himself.

He was quiet while he pulled on some flannel pants and a sweater, listening for a response from his girl friend. The one thing he was most proud of in his life. He slipped back into the bathroom to spit out his mouth full of toothpaste and then hung up the toothbrush.

"Rachael?" he called into the house, that now, seemed mysteriously quiet. He walked into the living room and a cold draft passed over him. The front door was hanging open. He walked over to it and looked outside. The sun was going down and the sky was red. Wind whispered in the maple tree in the front yard. "Rachael?"

When he heard no response, he closed the door and locked it. Confused, he went to the kitchen to grab a towel to clean up the mess and that's when he saw her, sprawled out on the floor. Her robe torn from her shoulders, blood had run down from her neck and onto her breasts.

"Oh my God!" Tom shouted, pressing his hands on both sides of his head. For a moment he just stood there, repeating this prayer over and over and then ran to her. He knelt down, and in disbelief, he could see that she was not breathing nor did she seem to respond to his touch. Emotions rushed over him but he held them at bay for the moment, too confused to accept anything he was seeing.

He picked up the phone and dialed 911, backing away from his girlfriend, who was now a corpse in their kitchen. It rang once and then a voice came over the line.

"911 emergency."

"My girlfriend is hurt... she's lying in the middle of our kitchen.. she's bleeding.." he forced himself to describe what he could barely force himself to see.

"What happened to her sir? It's very important. Has she been bitten?"

"What?"

"BITTEN sir, has she been BITTEN?"

Tom looked at the source of the blood. A gash in her neck. "I'm not sure, maybe... Why? what am I supposed to do? Help me, PLEASE!"

"Sir you need to get out of your house."

"What?"

"Sir listen to me..."

Rachael sat up with a sudden twitch. She started to wheeze and a hiss escaped her lips. "Rachael, oh my God, Rachael, are you ok? Rachael, you're bleeding oh my God..."

"SIR! DO NOT go near her! SIR GET OUT OF THERE!"

To be continued

wow nice job.

creepy.

yet another fine story keep them stories comming!

LOVE IT! KEEP POSTING!

great. glad you guys like it. I already have a lot done but i wont post more until tomorrow or something.

Very nice! Nice to see someone else who seems to have left primary school doing some fan-fiction work on here!

you here too foxtrot

yeah but this version is more revised. The story fits in with both games so i figured why not

The love of his life rose from her shallow grave that was the kitchen floor. Rachael stood in the middle of the room, swaying a bit but facing away from him. Her arms dangled at her sides strangely.

Tom dropped the phone receiver in disbelief. The batteries shot out of it and rolled across the linoleum. Rachael turned sluggishly to face him. Her eyes were open now, wide open, racing around the room and then locking on him. "Rachael?"

The name seemed to spark no recognition. She began to approach him, clumsily stumbling across the room. She was snarling, teeth and gums bared, and she reached out a hand to touch him.

"Rachael, sit down," Tom urged, backing out of the kitchen and out of reach of her fingers as they clawed at him. "Rachael, what's going on?"

She didn't answer him. Rachael stumbled forward and hissed at him as she drew nearer. Tom stepped back into the hall, stepping in the puddle of milk and slipping. He fell hard onto his back, splattering cereal all over himself, but he continued to scrape backwards, crawling into the bedroom and shutting the door. He layed on the floor, listening to Rachael's sluggish footsteps on the other side. She moaned.

"Rachael, ANSWER ME!" He screamed under the door. His throat was tightening as she made no response. Rachael was something else now. "Rachael, please!"

He laid there for an hour, listening to her pace back and forth. Occasionally she would knock against the door, but never made an attempt to use the door handle. Tom stood up and went to the closet; he took out some jeans and put them on. He grabbed his wallet too. Even though he was already wearing a hooded sweater, he pulled on a jacket as well. A shotgun his father has passed down to him was leaning against the back wall of the closet and he looked at it for a moment, but then decided to leave it alone.

His cell phone was charging on the nightstand beside their bed. He unplugged it and turned it on. He called the police again.

"911 emergency?"

"What's going on?" Tom asked. He returned to the closet and took out the Ithica 12 gauge. "My girlfriend is..." he could't bring himself to say dead. He bit his lip.

"Sir, you need to get in a car and drive away. Just go. We've locked up the police station. We're not letting anyone else in."

"What? Drive away? What's going on?"

"They'll kill you. Everyone is turning into... monsters. Zombies, the undead, we don't know what they are. Don't let them bite you. Was you're girlfriend bitten?"

"Everyone?"

"We don't know."

"Where can I go?"

"Arm yourself if possible... find a safe place with food and water and other people. Find somewhere bright, I don't know."

Tom ended the call and pocketed the cell phone. He had two boxes of shells for the shotgun. Each box contained 16 Remington shells. He threw them into a backpack, but not before loading 8.

keeeeeeeep going! good job!

Woooo, great great story!

i love it, go on and keep up the good work

great story Foxtrot!
keep going on

hey

i was every day on the forum to know the newest thing about BB but this story is the best thing i ever read about zombies can you no YOU MUST continu the story

plzz

Keep it up foxtrot, you write well and I like your ideas of the story. Incidentally, this sort of layout (starting in your house at the beginning of the crisis, arming yourself and driving to a safe area) is the starting comment for the in-development HL2 mod, NoMoreRoominHell. And if anyone complains of me mentioning it here, bear in mind it's got a year til it's first playable release, atleast, and that I am the damn moderator here, so i'm not trying any advertising

Nice to finally see some good writing here.

Hmm... i'm in a creative mood lately, foxtrot, if you'd like to try a little joint venture of fan fiction, would you PM me?