Menewsha Avatar Community - Zombie-Themed Writing Contest | Ends 14th July | See first post for Results Thread (now out!)

I knooooooow! I've been working hard on my entry but it's still not done. I'm almost there, I hope to finish it sometime tonight. Sleep is for the weak!

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Population: ~~6,797,220,081~~ 0
By: Vix Viral

It seems like an eternity has passed since the first bodies reanimated in a morgue in a small town out west and turned the Earth into a living hell. More accurately, they were the first reanimated corpses to be seen by the outside world. According to early news reports, the first documented cases of infection occurred in the survivors of a plane crash on a small island a few hundred miles off the coast of New Guinea. An engine malfunction caused the large commercial jet to crash into the coral reef surrounding the isle. All but twenty-eight of the plane’s passengers died on impact. The surviving group attempted to carve out an existence on the island by foraging for food in the brush and hunting what little wildlife there was. They soon discovered that there were not enough natural resources at their disposal to sustain all twenty-eight of them.

The twenty-eight grew weaker and weaker as the island was cleared of all of its flora and fauna. Without any wildlife to serve as their usual source of nourishment, the local mosquito population focused its attention on their human neighbors. It was not long before the crash survivors became little more than massive walking insect bites. An unlucky number of them were infected with an unknown illness and passed on. Soon, the group of twenty-eight had shrunk to seventeen. However, this was not the worst of their problems as their hunger pains grow more and more aggressive with each passing day. Finally, the day arrived when the group had to make a choice that would change their lives forever. The bodies of their fallen, while having started the decomposition process, still managed to look quite delicious. And so they were when roasted over an open fire. Seventeen dwindled yet again and the group was now left with eleven members. The cycle of life and death continued on the island as the survivors devoured their dead with the hope that every bite would buy them a few more minutes as they waited for help to come. Their prayers were answered when a local fisherman discovered them forty-seven days after their plane had crashed in the crystal blue waters of the Pacific.

Once they were back in the loving embrace of human civilization, the survivors were treated and examined at a hospital. A strange worm-like parasite was quickly discovered in the bloodstream of all eleven people. The organisms closely resembled lavender Tapeworms with round bodies covered in tiny toothed mouths. Doctors decided to keep the rescued group under strict quarantine and observation to monitor the effects that the Worms had on their bodies. The infected had their vital signs checked and blood drawn every afternoon for five days.

During these first few days, the Worms were seen to bore through a person’s body towards the spinal cord and gradually complete their journey once reaching the brain. Once inside the skull, the Worms would begin to feed on and lay their eggs in the cerebral cortex. The greater the infection, the less control the victim had over their memory, attention, speech, and overall conscious awareness. On the morning of the sixth day since their rescue, Patient Zero collapsed to the ground and began convulsing. His eyes rolled back into his skull, a reddish foam bubbled up from his throat and cascaded over his lips as his skin paled to a dull grey, becoming littered with dark purple spots as veins ruptured and blood began to seep outward into his body cavity. The man’s life fluids simply collected underneath his skin at first but were soon released through his pores and into the outside world. He was dead within minutes. His corpse was also the first to be handed over to the authorities. In the few hours after Patient Zero’s death, his ten other comrades would suffer the same gruesome fate.

The rest of the bodies were taken to the morgue where coroner James R. Chetfield was given the honor of being the first person to perform an autopsy on every single one of the corpses infected with the new parasite once he finished working on Patient Zero. Any discovery he might make could immortalize his name forever as well as make him a wealthy man. However, at the precise moment in which Mr. Chetfield allowed his attention to wander from his current project to to the prospect of future fortune and fame, a hand marbled with purple and grey shot out from the work bench and wrapped itself around the coroner’s neck, crushing his esophagus with inhuman force. The face of the man who was supposed to be dead contorted into a hideous grimace, his mouth hovering just above Chetfield’s throat before thirty-two teeth sank into the soft flesh of his neck. Mercifully, the coroner bled out and was dead well before the ten other corpses also rose and joined in Patient Zero’s feast.

It was not long before the eleven man-eating monsters escaped the morgue and continued their rampage. The media dubbed them the walking dead and the parasite that caused the disease was nicknamed the Cadaver Worm. The Worms spread like wildfire. Each bite, scratch, and drop of blood from the infected full of eggs that hatch inside the host’s body and continue the cycle of life, death, and un-death. At times the outbreak was treated as a hoax used by the governments of the world to control their respective citizens, while others believed it was a new form of bio-terrorism, and still some insisted that it was an act of God – passing judgment on the human race. Few people were willing to entertain the idea that this was an accident that had occurred due to a parasite suddenly finding itself living within a new type of host.

That was hardly more than a year ago. Since then, less than ten percent of the planet’s population remains, the sole survivors of the Great Death of the 21st Century. I’m one of them. I still don’t know if I should consider myself fortunate for surviving or cursed for being alive to watch the planet decay. Either way, it’s only a matter of time before I become infected - The chorus of muffled sobs and pain filled cries bring my mind back to the present instantly – A matter of time before we all become infected. A part of me pities us, damned to a life of hiding and fear…If you can even call that life. We’re dead on the inside, the months of running, of scavenging on what we could find, of watching as our loved ones turned into monsters before our very eyes have taken their toll on all of us.

I can’t even remember how many of us there were when we started running but I’m certain that a few memories will be etched in my mind forever. Memories such as the father who threw his newborn daughter at a group of approaching cadavers in order to save his wife and two older children. They were the next to die, guilt driving the man to commit suicide and abandon the rest of his family to the growing horde. Such tragedies have become routine now as our instinct to survive overcomes the petty importance that society places on family and honor. We all have to die some time so why not buy yourself some extra time at the expense of someone else?

That’s all my “companions” are to me now, food for the damned. There’s a middle aged woman sitting by the only door in the warehouse. Judging by the way her skin hangs from her frame now, I’d guess she was a pretty large woman before things went to hell in a hand basket. She should be able to buy us a few hours’ time depending on how many Cadavers her body can feed. That extra flab will make a nice treat for them. She’s even got two brats with her that’ll make the perfect dessert for those zombie bastards. Perhaps I should thank them for their selfless sacrifice. No, I won’t say anything until it’s too late for them to escape and then, when I do thank them, they will be glad to have done their part to ensure that the human race survives for just a little while longer.

My thoughts are interrupted once again, this time by the sound of distant screams worming their way through the cracked windows. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, people venture outside unprepared and die all the time. The cries are louder, nearer now. I can also make out the raspy groans of the Cadavers in pursuit of their prey.

“Let us in! For the love of God, help us!” The outsiders are banging on our door, frantic with fear. Unfortunately, their cries fall on deaf ears tonight. I – no, we will allow them to die, to hold off the monsters so that we may live. The terrified screams, snapping of bones, and tearing of flesh fill our ears with death’s familiar song and we are relieved that it is not us on the other side of that door.

Silence. The beasts have had their fill and seem to have wandered off. Everyone is asleep now. Everyone, that is, but me. I’m always the last to fall asleep and the first to wake. A full night’s sleep is a luxury that I can’t afford. I watch them, some are tossing and turning, others are dreaming of a world more pleasant than the one they’ve been cursed with. They will all serve as future meals, for myself or for the Cadavers. It really doesn’t matter, they’re dead either way. Somewhere, in the recesses of my mind, I can almost hear a voice wishing them all sweet dreams and perhaps even asking for their forgiveness for the things that I have done and will do.

I usually keep watch out of one of the few unbroken windows in the old building but there’s no need for it tonight. The corpses have had their fill tonight and will have dispersed until hunger drives them to hunt again. Such occasions provide us with the rare opportunity to get some much needed rest without the fear of being attacked in the middle of the night. I am grateful for the reprieve and plan on taking advantage of the momentary peace to get some shuteye before the others start to wake. A dreamless slumber overcomes me quickly. However, the scraping of keratin against metal and ghastly, hunger-driven moans that begin to echo through the building soon bring us up from the depths of unconsciousness and drag us back into the real world.

“They shouldn’t be here, not this soon. We already fed them!” The voice belongs to a man. He is growing more and more frantic by the second.

“They’re different! It’s another pack!” A young woman cries.

She’s right. These aren’t the same monsters as before. The smell of a fresh kill must have attracted them. Shit. I didn’t expect, didn’t plan on this happening. I can feel terror’s firm grasp around my soul. There is a sudden flash of movement in on the edge of my line of vision and I manage to jump back just as an arm marbled with rot is thrust through the window in front of me. The shards of glass carve into the Cadaver’s flesh allowing Worms in their larval stage to fall to the floor. They fall like rain, hundreds upon hundreds, writhing on the wooden floorboards in a desperate search for their next host. Time seems to be at a standstill and it takes all of my strength to keep from vomiting at the sight. My heart’s pounding. I can feel it pumping blood to my extremities but I can’t move. I’m stuck frozen in place as my mind struggles between deciding to fight or flee. For the first time since the dead overtook the Earth, I don’t know what to do.

“Get out of the way!” I hear someone yell. They sound so far away but they’re right beside me, pulling me from the window. They have made my choice for me.

Everyone is in a state of panic. None have dared to try and fend off the Cadavers. No one is stupid enough to give their own life for a pathetic group of savages. I’d rather be a pathetic savage than part of some zombie’s Humanburger Helper dinner. Someone has managed to break a window in the back of the warehouse and provide us with a means of escape. It’s a small light that’s nowhere near the end of a very long and dark tunnel but it’s just enough to keep us fighting for our lives. We all start making our way towards the broken window that is our salvation but it’s only large enough for one person to go through at a time. With each passing second, more glass panes shatter behind us providing the hungry Cadavers with an entrance. One of the monsters falls onto the wooden floor with a thud. He is the first one inside.

“Hurry up! One’s already in!” This causes us to crowd around the small opening even tighter than before. We push and shove one another, each one of us trying to save ourselves, but make little progress. I find myself along the outer perimeter of the group; however, there are a number of others beside me that can provide the distraction necessary for me to escape. The older woman is one of them. It looks like her luck is about to run out.

Several more of the beasts enter the warehouse behind us. They pick themselves up off of the floor and begin to shuffle towards their frightened prey. The scent of our fear has reached their nostrils and the Cadavers closest to us begin to moan with anticipation. Some are missing limbs or chunks of flesh and bone. The right eye of another is dangling from its socket and is swaying side to side like a pendulum as the creature walks. Others have lost what little clothing they had at their time of death. As more of the deceased enter the building, they join their moans and guttural growls to the growing chorus and create a chilling requiem.

Against my better instincts, I turn around and take a look behind me. The ravenous corpses are quickly closing the distance between us, much faster than I thought they would. I can smell their rotten stench and feel it growing in intensity with each lumbering step that they take. That’s when I spot her coming in through the window. A newly infected Cadaver with her body completely intact save for a few cuts and bruises. That means that her tendons and joints are still in good condition and that unlike most of the older corpses, she can run. As if sensing my terror, she raises her head and her eyes lock onto mine from across the room. I can’t bring myself to tear away from the monster’s vacant gaze until I see her blue orbs cloud over with hunger and a thirst for blood.

“What the fuck’s taking so long?! Move!” My words come out cracked and in an unusually high pitch. The fear in my voice surprises me as much as it does my comrades. I never lose my composure. I never show weakness. Most important of all, I never panic. With perfect timing, my undead huntress lets out a piercing wail. I immediately understand her intended message, she wants me. With that, she breaks into a run and comes at me with startling speed.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” I cry as I try to force my way through the crowd and towards the only available exit. But with the voracious Cadaver a mere stone’s throw away, the people that I had spent all of this time with, the people that I had thought of as cattle, as expendable, return those exact sentiments towards me. In a second, their hands are all over me, greasy and coated in grime, lifting me into the air above them. They move me away from the window and back through the mass of frantic bodies. They don’t stop until I’m back on the outer edge of the group.

“W-What are you doing?!” My voice is dripping with fear once again and then I get my answer in the form of the old hag I had been keeping an on earlier. She stares at me for a moment before mouthing the words, “Thank you”, and then she, along with those closest to me, hurl me down into the growing cluster of starving beasts.

“You fucking bitch! I should be the one thanking you for your “sacrifice”! You should be here, not me! I had a fucking plan! I–” My words fail me as I notice how quiet things have suddenly gotten. It is then that I realize that I am surrounded by Cadavers. The only movement comes from the sprinting she-corpse as she comes to stand before me. She looks at me like a farmer might eye his prized pig before the slaughter. As a cold hand wraps itself around my neck, I cannot help but think that I have been judged and deemed unworthy to continue living and that tonight, if I am lucky, I will not be devoured but will join the ranks of the dead.

My eyesight then fades to black as my throat is torn out and the other monsters move in to enjoy the feast that is my body.

The End

Word Count: 2,951