i was half-buried beneath a heap of corpses piled on the floor of whitten place fire station. that must've been why the zeds missed me. everyone else was dead. zombie food. i gagged but my gut was empty.
i knew what i had to do. i couldn't save my friends' lives but i could help them stay dead. it was the least i could do. death, real death, was a gift seldom given in malton city. i poured gasoline over everything, staggered out the door and threw a lit match inside.
that was when they got up again.
through the smoke and ashes i watched the dead men rise to their feet. the fact that they were literally on fire only seemed to disorient them, didn't even slow them down. sure as hell didn't hurt their sense of smell, 'cause a bunch of 'em started towards me, groaning with hunger. i hadn't recovered enough strength to run yet, but i found an axe leaning against a wall.
'i'm sorry, jim.'
i split the lead zombie's skull open, but the axe head caught in its rib cage and when it fell it twisted the axe from my hands. there were four or five other zeds behind him, but the rest stayed behind to eat their fallen comrade. guess they can appreciate cooked meat after all.
i half-stumbled, half-limped to an abandoned factory across the street, scarcely moving faster than the zeds, and locked myself inside. i spent the night there. i slept poorly.
all this happened many days ago. i'm just writing it down as 'day one' because i just found this notebook today and i've got to start writing somewhere, and day one has a nice ring to it. we all should get a day one.
-alex
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