Horrible Story

A Halloween fan fiction horror story for your reading pleasure.

This crumbled journal was found on January 5th, 2017


It was just over three weeks ago that the world as we know it ended. The timing of whatever happened couldn’t have been worse... if it were any other day, I think we would have stood a fighting chance but the dead chose to rise again on All Hallow’s Eve and by the time the news figured out what was actually happening, it was already too late. Being in the reserves and having a paranoid streak a mile long, I was better prepared than most. I had been planning for TEOTWAWKI since the early 2000s and my stockpile of supplies and ammunition was not insignificant. That didn’t do me much good when my house was overrun by the undead. It was all I could do to grab my SHTF bag, my glock 9mm and my Liberator MK3 assault rifle. Most of my time since that terrible night has been spent searching for supplies and shelter and running from the undead. Their numbers are staggering and the best defense is to avoid them completely. At least I’m alive, I’m a survivor - that’s better than most, so I have that to be thankful for today.


I spent the better part of the last week clearing out two floors of an apartment building. Many of the units contained horrific scenes of violence. A few of the units hadn’t been overrun, and I’ve been staying in one of those the last few nights, clearing the other apartments and scavenging supplies by day and barricading myself in unit 252 by night. The nights are the worst. They come early this time of year and I don’t dare use a light as the slightest motion attracts the undead like moths to a flame. I simply lie awake trying to formulate longer term plans while the undead seek out the few remaining living that survived.


The second two floors have now been completely cleared and my stockpile of supplies has grown quite a bit over the last two weeks. I even found a few unexpected treasures like an old leather motorcycle suit that the manufacturer referred to as a ‘broadsider’. I’m hoping that the reinforced leather is enough to stave off a bite or a scratch from the undead. It does look like it will do the job. I guess Christmas came early this year.

I haven’t left the building in well over a week now and have been focused on securing the street level entrances, the stairwells and blackening out the windows on the cleared floors.


Yesterday was a game changer. I was just finishing up securing the last fire escape on the third floor when I heard some noise coming from the street below. A man and a woman were being chased by the undead and direction they were being forced into only contained more zombies, attracted by the commotion. She was fast, darting forward and going in for the kill by stabbing one through it skull into its brain with some sort of combat knife. He had a baseball bat and didn’t have her speed or agility, but damn could he swing that thing. When he didn’t drop a zombie outright he would hit it so hard it would just stand there, staggered for a few seconds, buying them valuable time. But soon it wouldn’t matter, there were too many of them and they would be surrounded before they knew it. At least they weren’t using firearms, that would have attracted them from a quarter mile or more. I could either watch them get torn apart, or I could do something about it. I’m not going to lie, it was something I wrestled with. It may have only been for a few seconds, but it was still too long. I made sure my silencer was securely attached to my MK3 and I slipped out the window and down the fire escape.


I think my risk is going to pay dividends... who says that no good deed goes unpunished? The bruiser with the bat saw me as I dropped from the fire escape and shouted a warning to his friend with the knife. I swung my MK3 around, praying and spraying, and took out half a dozen zombies that were approaching them from behind. They exchanged an uneasy look at first, then he shrugged and got back to work on the closest zombie. She did the same, springing forward and attacking. I finished taking out the roamers from behind and spun around to help them deal with the small horde that had been following them. After a few tense, uneasy seconds of staring at each other unsure of what would happen next, the woman smiled and sprang towards me delivering an unexpected hug. After that it was all smiles and high fives. Jim and Rhonda, those were their names, had been on the run almost since things began. It was so strange to hear another person’s voice after nearly two months of solitude. After the short victory celebration, I laid down the ground rules. They were welcome to stay in one of the cleared out apartments and to a portion of the supplies if they helped clear out the rest of the apartment and defend it along with me. They seem cool as hell but I know they’re wary. Hell, I am too, but at least I’m the wary guy with a gun.


The arrangement with Jim and Rhonda has been going extremely well. They’re both tenacious, hard workers and it’s clear that they’re grateful for the arrangement we have. Before all this went down I had a rescue dog named Samson, best damned dog I’ve ever known. Samson was a rescue, he was found roaming down in Arkansas and had to have 37 BBs removed when they found him. They say a rescue never forgets what you did for them, and I’m pretty sure the same is true for Rhonda and Jim.

We finished clearing the 4th floor today. Damn that’s a hell of a lot easier with three people. We hauled a bunch of exercise equipment down to our floor; two ellipticals and a bunch of weights. We all agreed that a training regimen would be a huge benefit. It would help us not only pass the time but also get in better physical shape which was just about a necessity if we wanted to keep on surviving. I showed them how to use firearms (even improved my own marksmanship) and Jim who had been a Jeet Kune Do instructor taught us both how to anticipate and dodge an opponent’s attacks and how to use their momentum against them. With hours each day devoted to conditioning and training, I was in better shape than ever before, including when I went to boot camp. I was becoming stronger, faster, a better shot. I was on the verge of transforming into something, someone better. And that’s when it happened:

Everyone’s got two wolves inside them. One is anger, envy, pride. The other…truth, kindness. Every day they tear each other apart.
But it’s not the better wolf that wins. It’s the one you feed.

Contact [email protected] or send @Bill_ZRT a message to join DTP today!

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