5 March 2013
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The roads are desolate and quiet, unlike the normal hum of the traffic in the city. I zoom around the town, knowing exactly where I want to go. The engine of this car is in a state of silence, almost as if the giant metal machine is just floating. Hovering through these blood shed streets. I park right in front of the Gun Stop building and lock the car doors after I slide out as quietly as possible, sneaking my bat out behind me. I take the bat in my right hand and point it towards the ground. I quickly and quietly run up to the glass and metal doors. The store is closed and no one is inside from the looks of it. I kick the bottom panel of glass in and expect an alarm to sound but the electricity is off. Must have shut down recently. I slide under the door and look around the small front room. The gun racks are perfectly in tact and it's the perfect opportunity. I grab them all. Hunting rifles, pistols, you name it. I slip them snugly into two gun bags and grab another for the ammo. I bring all three bags outside and throw them in the trunk. I run back inside and look around for other things I could take. I don't want money and I don't need food. Just to see. I see a katana hanging on the wall in the back along with some throwing knives, a cross bow, and hunting bow with several arrows and a machete. I take those in another bag and I find a pack of cigarettes. I take them out of impulse and duck out the door. The parking lot is still clear but it won't be forever. I sit in the trunk of the car and start to fuddle around with one of the hunting rifles. I slip the bullets in the way my father taught me when I was younger, gear it up, feel the direction of the gun. I take out a cigarette and stick it in my mouth. I light it and slip my fingers over the trigger. "Gentle and steady," he always said. I lift my eyes and see a walker about 50 feet away, strolling along, being dumb as dust. I point my gun and close my left eye. I peer down the barrel and aim at the walker, who's getting closer. I focus in and my hands tighten to keep the gun from slipping through my sweaty hands. The walker gets closer and closer and finally I give up the courage and shoot. Suddenly, the world began to rotate in slow motion. The bullet punctured its head and its blood splattered everywhere. It fell to its knees and then down, bashing its own head into the pavement, crushing its skull. I lower my gun and fling the bat into the trunk and slam the end gate, making sure to create a loud noise. I lean my back against the car, holding the big gun in one hand. I take the other and wrap my fingers around the cigarette. I pull it away from my mouth and blow out. Never really having experienced the full taste, I realize why people like them. I look up and finally see my target practices. I throw my cigarette onto the ground and step on it, grinding it into the tar. I lift my gun with only the one bullet missing. There are six walkers and I'm challenging myself, betting on my own money. I will only use six bullets, plus the one I used on the last, rotten asshole. I aim and ignite, never moving more than a few inches in my blows. I hop in the car with seven rounds missing from the gun total. I turn the key and start to drive away and I smile. I haven't lost my touch yet, have I?
Zombies; Chapter 2 Lost Touch • Opuss № I