Freddy is a senior in High School.
Kind of a loner, staying to himself, never having many friends.
He also is hooked on video games. He has 319 virtual friends. More than enough friends to play with and occupy his time.
And his and his friends' favorite game...
He sits in math class now, his last class of the day. Staring out the window, longing to be playing - immersed into that world of video games - in between broken glances back at the huge wall clock that ticked away the minutes, as if they were hours. Almost seeming to mock him.
Now he sits on the edge of his seat, almost halfway out of it already, for the clock sits at less than three minutes to go.
Tick, tick, tick.
Tick, tick, tick.
One minute, he can barely take it.
Tick, tick, tick.
As the bell dismissing school rang through the halls, Freddy was almost exiting through the front doors of Ridgemore High; leaving the halls behind filled with ringing echos.
He walked through the doors, heading for his bike locked to the rack, completely unaware that it might just be the very last time, ever. He might have cherished it a little more if he had.
Peddling home the six blocks to his parent's house, he still couldn't get the game out of his mind. It seemed to be the only thing he thought about anymore.
Arriving home, going down to his basement room via the seperate entrance that his parents either didn't mind him using, or more likely didn't even know or care he was using.
Getting into the comfort and darkness of his room, Freddy closed the one small blind - then powering up his Xbox - just before turning on his 50" plasma screen.
He sat in his comfy recliner, his gaming chair, and took a quick smoke; just a few rips, as he was navigating through the menus and checking his messages.
Though strangely today nobody else was online, almost any other day he played there were always at least five or ten on.
Strange, he thought, but wasn't going to let that stop him from having his zombie killing spree. A few missing monkeys won't stop his show of fun. Or would it?
With his headset on, even with no one online to talk to, he started into his game.
His typical idea of the best day ever, full of nothing but spraying and plastering zombie heads and brains; painting the walls with them.
In fact, here comes one now. A real big mother. This must be the Zombielord.
Freddy toggled his joysticks, sending his avatar this way and that, bobbing and weaving, encroaching the zombie king; firing away the entire time. His blood pumping through his body; his veins racing. Completely eager with excitement.
Then suddenly, hit from behind, unbelievingly he swiveled his character around and looked down.
There was a little girl zombie, that somehow had gotten him and was peeling and working her way around and though his kneecap by the time he finally noticed.
Instant death and Game Over.
The retry screen then blared upon the TV; with electonics mocking him for the second time that day. So pissed he got up, letting his controller fall to the floor, slamming down the power button on his Xbox.
And that's when it happened.
The thing that changed Freddy's life forever; and not for the better.
Freddy finally opens his eyes, unable to see anything.
Nothing but the pitch black.
At first he thinks it must just be a power outage or something. But you know what they say about assuming, it only makes an ass out of you and me.
Besides, Freddy starts to notice the funny feeling he's having; not to mention he finds himself completely unable to move.
Frozen in the darkness.
Then the lights flash on so bright, he's literally blinded for a few moments.
By this point he's now moving, his feet carrying him swiftly, unknowing where or what is happening.
He also notices that he feels really heavy, not just his feet or boots but his entire body. Then he looks down and sees the soldiers uniform and equipment - he's somehow donned - including the giant assault rifle, grasped firmly in his hands.
Looking back up and glancing forward he also notices the microphone bouncing about near his mouth; apparently still wearing his headset.
He rounds the next corner and runs face first into a hoard of zombies.
Lurching towards him as he turns, trying to escape their wrath, it's already too late; for many are already upon him.
The first is a burly lumberjack type, ripping off his arm with ease then using it to beat off other zombies, trying to protect its prize; dinner.
Then a woman, dead - or undead - but who must have once been remarkably beautiful at one time, latched onto one of Freddy's lovehandles.
Unable to shake her no matter how hard he tried.
Then the last he saw and remembered, was an elderly zombie grandmother - whose head and face were mostly half missing - dripping and oozing blood; reaching past her sagging breasts.
She began eating his right ear, working her way slowly into Freddy's brain.
Then they were all upon him, seeming to be hundreds of them. A great big zombie dogpile. A Freddy free-for-all.
There was no more pain, there was no screaming.
Then once again, there was nothing but total darkness.
Freddy came to again in that dark place, unbelievingly, thinking for sure he had to be dead.
The funny feeling returning, but different this time. He felt so much lighter - that was a relief - but slower, which was very odd.
He seemed to be having troubles thinking as the light came back into his vision; but not like before, things still remained very much dark and a little hazy.
He lurched along through the dark, unable to move much faster no matter how hard he tried.
Freddy moving along at this alarmingly slow rate - especially compared to before - started filling with dread; almost at the exact same time he got this other feeling, wedged deep within his insides. An unstoppable hunger.
This unrelenting hunger, almost seeming to be pushing him along, fueling him, continuing him lurching forward ever more.
Then once again, Freddy looks down - or what used to be Freddy - taking himself all in.
Looking - he would have gasped if he could have - puzzlingly down at himself, he first noticed his shoes weren't right. All beaten and worn, as if he'd been walking in them for years straight. Struggling to see through the darkness, it also did appear that they had been covered in a layer of blood and dried gore.
His eyes flowing up his body he realized why he was so slow, most of his one kneecap was missing - almost completely gone- almost threatening to go with any step; really leaving him immobile, then. Looking even higher, now - hardly even caring - he saw the gaping open hole, that was his side, bubbling over with blood and his intestines hanging out loosely; slapping his thigh with every step he took.
He just wished it wasn't so dark.
And that this horrid pain in his stomach would just go away.
Finally Freddy entered an open room, shedding a little more light on the subject.
Just a tiny bit brighter, so he was able to look around a bit and see things in just a little more color.
But then quickly - with a flash - his vision turned red.
Shooting him forward, lurching him twice as fast as he had been, almost impossibly.
Knowing his busted knee wouldn't be able to take it; but it did.
He was approaching something, or somethings, almost like he was pursuing them.
Then he saw them. Three men rushing at him, all wearing armored vests, brandishing high-powered weapons and wearing boots that looked specifically made for head smashing.
Then there was a loud, unmistakable bang.
It rang throughout Freddy's ears.
His vision deepened, turning it to a darker red - seeing and feeling blood dripping down his face and neck - before it slowly faded back to black; as he fell first to his knees, then falling flat on his face.
The darkness then swallowed him one last time.
Then it spit him out.
Freddy awoke with his finger still touching the power button on his Xbox, shaking his head with disbelief.
Taking his finger away, a long uncontrollable shiver worked its way down his spine.
"Brrrr," unaware that he was even saying it aloud. "That was creepy."
Counting his blessings, not knowing if he ever wanted to play video games again, he plopped back down into his chair; with a deep, gasping sigh.
He then must have decided it was just that time, as Freddy sat there in his chair and had himself a couple more rips.
For that is his only cure.