A World of Decay. . .
Hungry and in need of fresh water, a young man is driven from the safety of his apartment. He snuck out, the sun making him shade his eyes briefly. He hadn’t been outside in over three weeks. The sun felt nice on his skin. He hadn’t seen one of the undead in over four days. He hoped they were all gone as he walked. The air was heavy with old trash and other stenches that mingled with the salty air. Today he was finally going to get out of the virus-infested city. He had walked along all day, lost in thought, then there it was; he came to the bridge, red and shiny. Behind him, he heard the moans. Had he heard them earlier?
He turned. His cotton candy pink hair flapped in the coastal wind, and his nose filled with the stench of the dead. There they were. All of his optimism bottomed out. A large group of men, women, and children slunk after him. Their skin was no longer living, instead, torn, ripped in colors of off-blue and varying shades of green. The bites or wounds that had caused them to become a member of the dead clearly showed beneath the clear sky. He did the only thing he could think of. He started to run. He ran to the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge, stopping suddenly.
In front of him was another horde of the undead. He was trapped. There would be no way to fight his way out of this mess. He was dead no matter what. He went to the edge of the bridge and looked over at the rough waves below. He had two choices for how he would die … he climbed over the edge. The moans of the undead got louder as they got closer. He closed his eyes and said a small prayer of forgiveness. His hands let go of the railing, and he fell, his eyes still closed tight.
There was no life flashing before his eyes or a bright light at the end of the tunnel. Blackness. The rough saltwater waves ate at him, tossing and turning his body. Once the body was face up, his eyes stared at the sky now clouding over as the coastal fog rolled in. Something darkened in them, a small spark. His mouth opened, filling with saltwater. All memories of who he was were gone. He was now one of them, craving flesh. The water sucked him under. He could no longer swim, and as his body moved slowly toward the shore, the ocean current pulled it back out.
A woman screamed. The high pitched shriek filled the empty city, echoing off the abandoned buildings. New York, once filled with people and noise, lay in ruin and smelled of death. The undead walked the streets, moving toward the scream. She thought her plan could work, but it hadn’t. There were just too many of them. Her screams died off as the zombies pulled away pieces of her to feed their insatiable need. Blood covered the streets and windows of the empty storefronts, and moans filled the air as the sun started to set.
The world was now silent. The dead bodies of millions lay strewn across the globe. The undead waited for signs of life and movement. They waited to feed. They walked around in the north as the winter clouds threatened snow. They continued to walk around in the south where the government had dropped a bomb, hoping to stop them. The dead owned the world. No more fighting based on religion or race. Beautiful wonders left with no one to appreciate them. An entire race, the human race, was extinct. The world had been left to the undead to crumble and rot just like them.