More than a memory Part One
I still remember the days of the Dark Years. At least, that’s what I still call them. You probably know them as “The Walking Plague”, or “Z War One”. For me, it will always be the Dark Years.
I am one of the many who protest the accuracy of the word “zombie” You see, zombies are in movies, fictional stories, and such. This was nothing less than real. However, for lack of a better word, I will call them by the name that the media has portrayed them as. This is my story of those years.
I lived in the town of Mobile, Alabama. Many have incorrectly labeled all the citizens of Alabama as “redneck” and “hillbilly” characters. Yes, some of our population was as such, but not all. At least, not where I lived.
In our house, we only had 1 firearm. A Remington .200 bolt action rifle. We didn’t even have ammunition for it. We were not a violent family. By the time the Plague had reached our hometown, I was only but 16 years old. I was a cross country runner, track runner, and wide receiver in football for my high school. I am including these personal details for you to understand me, and how I lived. I still remember the first day vividly…
I awoke on a Friday morning. Outside I heard car tires screeching, but I lived near a main road, so I thought nothing of the sound. It was normal to me. I rose from my bed and put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a fleece hoodie.
My house was silent, which wasn’t normal for a winter’s day. Usually my family was awake before me, watching sports, or my brother was playing video games while my parents argued with him to get off.
This wasn’t the case. I walked to the kitchen to eat some breakfast. I had some chocolate chip waffles. Weird, huh? I can still remember the food I ate that morning.
I ate and turned on our TV, which wasn’t working. The power light would switch on and off, but the TV wouldn’t pick up a broadcast. My next decision was the computer. I sat down and clicked the screen on, and found the internet was down. Strange.
I looked at my phone and found that I had multiple missed calls from family members. My brother, sister, mom, and dad, all tried to call me. I was actually scared that I had so many missed calls. “What if something bad happened?” I asked myself.
I picked up my phone and called my mom. She didn’t pick up the first, or the second time, but just as I was going to call the third time, she called me back.
“Hey mom! I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the first thousand times you-” “It doesn’t matter, I’m just glad to hear you’re safe.” She said, cutting me off. “Of course I’m safe,” I said, chuckling a little,” Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” She replied, “your dad and I went to the store, your sister went to work, and your brother went to the golf course. When we tried to come back, we found a police blockade in front of the neighborhood. I told the officers that you were here, but he kept saying that nobody was in the neighborhood. That they checked”
I was beginning to worry. I looked out the window. Sure enough, there was a blockade. Police armed to the teeth, riot control guards, spike strips, everything. I looked up the street a little to see a man walking. His face was torn and he was limping. I guessed he was in a bad accident and was going to the police for help. I saw the officers look towards him. “I see it mom. It looks like there’s a man out in the street too. He looks pretty beaten up.”
“Oh my God…” she said in a hushed tone. I didn’t understand what she was talking about until I looked up the street again. A police officer was walking towards the man. I thought he was going to help him, but what happened next will haunt me to my final days.
The officer picked up a hatchet and impaled it right into the man’s head, severing it in half. I almost threw up at the sight. “Oh my God, mom! They killed him! The man in the street! They cut off his head!”
“I know,” she said, “That’s why I couldn’t get back in the neighborhood. It’s under quarantine.” “Quarantine? I asked. “Yes,” she replied, “apparently, there’s an outbreak of some sort of virus.” “What kind?” I asked her. “He didn’t say. All I know is don’t go near a large group of people. It’s very easy to catch the virus there.”
“Okay,” I said, “I won’t.” I looked towards the police barricade to see a sniper rifle pointed towards my house. “Mom,” I said, “I see a-” Suddenly, the window shattered and I fell to the ground. I wasn’t hurt, but some fallen glass left a cut on my cheek. “What happened?!” I heard my mom yell through the phone.
“They tried to shoot me! They didn’t get me though. I’m fine.” “They must think you’re infected. Get out of the house. Go through the back yard. Jump the fences, and cut through the neighborhood.”
“Okay, but where do I go?” I asked. “I don’t know. The police cutting us off aren’t leaving a lot of places to go. Just keep your cell on you. I’ll call you soon. I love you.” “I love you too, mom.”
I heard the front door open, and I ran to my parent’s room, which was in the back. I heard footsteps walking down the hall. I opened the window slowly and put me leg through.
I looked towards the door and saw it open. I quickly ducked my head under the window and pulled my other leg through. I started running up the hill that was my backyard.
I heard the officer yell, “FREEZE!” and fire off shots at me. I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t armed, or a threat to anyone. Why would they shoot at me?
I didn’t slow down. I eventually reached the fence, which was covered with vines. I grabbed the top of the fence and jumped. I got my other leg up, and I rolled over it. I fell on my back.
Remember how my hill was slopped up? Well this was slopped back down. I rolled a bit, and eventually stopped myself on a tree root. I heard the police behind me as they tried to jump the fence.
I kept running. I ran into the house and hid. I heard the officers as they followed me, but they ran past me and out the front door. I guess they thought I kept running. Lucky for me, eh?
I stayed hidden and tried to catch my breath as I slouched to the ground. I looked up and heard a shuffling in the bathroom. I got up and slowly walked towards the door.
“Hello?” I whispered. “I live just behind you; I’m trying to get out of the neighborhood.” The shuffling continued. “Hello?” I asked again as I reached for the knob.
- To Be Continued -
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