And it was hard to argue with him. Three months of not being able to take a decent hot shower were starting to take their toll on us. Tensions along The Perimeter were always at a knife’s edge, and combining that with the unholy stink of fifty unwashed men would make anyone edgy.
“Deadboy, six o’clock!” The deadboy, once a businessman judging by the tattered remains of the suit he wore, threw himself against the electrified fence. There was the familiar popping sound of flesh scorching. The deadboy moaned, gnawing mindlessly at the fence as his lips burned and sizzled. I brought my gun up, aiming through the sight. A squeeze of the trigger, a flat, almost muffled report of the rifle, and no more deadboy. Zeke looked over at me. “Nice shot, Hannah! We’ll make a soldier out of you yet!”
“Fuck you, Zeke,” I said cheerfully, shooting the bird at him. He rolled his eyes and strolled along the fence, casually shooting deadboys at random. I sat back against the wall, my eyes and ears closed to the sounds that came from outside.
Had it really only been one year? One year since the dead started rising? It felt like a hundred. I had once been a school teacher. The closest I ever came to a gun was once a week, when I would go to the range and do a bit of target practice. I hadn’t been rich, but I had made a nice enough living due to working at a prestigious private school in the city. I had been engaged. I sighed, pushing thoughts of the last time I had seen Barry, or more accurately, what Barry had become. He was the first person I killed in this insane new world of ours. Even now, the memory of him pinning me to the ground, his teeth aimed for my throat as that unearthly moan came from his mouth, made me shudder.
I kicked upward, my knee connecting with his crotch, and he grunted. One more kick dislodged him, and I shot to my feet, running into the kitchen. He came after me, his left leg twisted and broken. The charnel house smell coming from him was making me sick, but I knew I had to act fast. I grabbed the butcher knife from the rack. “Barry, honey, if you’re still in there, say something. Anything.” He cocked his head at me, his red eyes dull, then roared and charged forward. I took a deep breath to steady myself, then plunged the knife deep into his eye and into his brain.
He stopped, an almost comical look of bewilderment on his face, then toppled backward, landing with a thud on the floor.
I left my home that night. Two days later, Zeke and a few others had found me and brought me to their camp.
This was our life now. No more luxuries, no more government, no more civilization. Just a few hundred of us against thousands of dead. My story was the same everywhere. Everyone had loved ones that they had been forced to kill. Mothers had killed children, children their parents, partners their loved ones.
I opened my eyes and stood, watching the vast throng of the dead as they milled about the perimeter.