Junkhouse Zombie Barrier
Zhen Young had hoped to be a lot of things in his short life. Getting eventually trapped on the windowless attic of the moldy apartment complex he had lived in with the other junkies had definitely not been one of those things.
There he had nothing but time, trying not to breathe too loud or accidentally make a sound that could wake up the sleeping horror below. Eventually the infected would wake up from their final rest and crave for food with their whole unliving existence, and at that point, they would pick up his scent and charge for the attick.
No, ending his life like that had never even crossed his mind. Like everyone his age, he had of course thought of a plan in the unlikely case of a zombie apocalypse, but even that hardly viable plan hadn't involved lying flat on the dusty attic floor. Yet there he was, and he was exhausted.
He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.
He had no idea how he had ended up in this situation in the first place, he had been all but high for a good while and right there was currently a big black bleeding hole in his memory.
He came from nowhere, and the only thing that kept resurfacing in his consciousness was the word ”zombies”.
Yeah, zombies. He'd heard of the infection in the TV news last night. But he hadn't given a shit since he was so high, after all.
And now they were there, right below him.
He had a very fragile-feeling memory of smashing in the skulls of his roommates before charging up the stairs to his hideout, although this could have been a hallucination or even a dream.
But the image in his head of three brains scattered on the floor from the three smashed skulls of Anna, Isabelle and Evan was sort of painfully real-like.
He had probably killed them, but they had been infected by then.
At least he hoped they had been. He couldn't know. He didn't remember.
He didn't remember anything at all.