Field of Corpses

Even if one of his friend hadn't brought it to his attention, he could have heard the crashing and loud collision with metal and ground a few minutes after. He was quick to look back out the window, just for the mere fact that something was happening, whether it good or not.

Being in a place where everything was dead, but you, it was inevitable to get boring. So, even if it was just a stupid zombie, trying to get a bird out of a tree for hours, at least it was something different happening, other than the same routine. The everyday life of trying to survive a zombie apocalypse was definitely nothing compared to having all the money, beautiful fans, and wonderful family. Life itself had turned into a zombie.

So, he peered out the window, along with his two best friends, pushing and shoving to look out the window too. He moved past, allowing them to look out the one window, while he scuffed his feet toward the other window, on the other end of the room. He looked out, casually, like it wasn't going to be anything. He couldn't have been more inaccurate though. As soon as his eyes found and he put together what was happening, his jaw was dropped. It explained the looks and noises coming from his friends.

"What the fuck, dude?" The chubbiest one of them shouted. "They can fly fucking 'copters now?"

The green eyed, shorter man was quick to spot it in the sky once he heard his friend. Sure enough, there was a helicopter, and by the way it was looking, he could see how his friend figured a zombie was driving. Were they starting to get smarter now? He shook his head at the though; of course not. America had been notorious for their stupidity. Once they became zombies. all hope for ever becoming smart enough went down the drain. So how could one of them, dead, pick up some tips on how to fly a helicopter?

Whoever, whatever, was flying the thing, was obviously having a hard time. It was far off, in the distance, up in the sky. It was spinning out of control, and the driver was having a helluva time trying to straighten it out. Before long, the fight between machine and dead-man was over. It was quick to come down to the earth. It crashed, with the propellers scraping against the asphalt, making a very loud noise by itself.

It didn't blow up, like the guys had hoped for. It just smashed, instantly, and was down for the count. There wasn't even a point in standing around to watch it anymore; either way, the driver was dead now, even if he had been dead before. The shorter man sighed, wondering if maybe the helicopter had actually been someone trying to save them. Maybe the driver had been in a scuffle with a zombie before he took flight, and maybe he had been bitten. Zombie bites were supposed to infect the person, and make them become one too. He figured the guy was becoming infected, and that's probably why he crashed.

Either way, it was the same ending. No one was going to help them. It was out of the question. Billie and his friends were going to die, smoking weed, starving with the case of munchies from Hell. Or death by zombies. Either way, it was going to have the same ending; death. It was everywhere.

How they were surviving death as it closed in around them, was unknown. Everyone already figured they died anyway, but they held on. Everyone gave up hope on them making it out alive, so why they held onto life was beyond themselves even. They were stuck with an old senile man, and his guns. That was their protection. If it weren't for that though, all of them would have made a pact to just die together.

They were all about to. Once it all started, the death of everyone, it terrified them most of all. They didn't want to become apart of the mad rush of people trying to fly to other countries. But once they found out it was too late for that, even, they all panicked. They all stuck together, the three men and their families, but it was all just too much for them. The children were frightened, even if the adults could pull off the "It's going to be okay" charade, they knew what was going on. Looking out the windows was forbidden, but they did it anyway. Kids of punk rockers were bound to misbehave, and once they witnessed the death of many, on the streets, they regretted never listening to their parents.

Seeing a woman trying to hurry her kids into a car, while trying to avoid a mob of bloody people was confusing enough. But seeing the woman being devoured by these blood-covered people was more than their minds could handle. Once the woman fell, and the zombies finished her, they were quick to surround the car. The two kids in the back were crying, frightened. Too little to know what to do, they tried to run away, and even if they hadn't, the zombies would have gotten into the car anyway. With that, that was the last time any of the kids ever looked out the window.

The kids had an idea of what was going on then. They'd had their fair share of video games, and Halloween fun to know that a zombie pandemic had begun. They could see right through their parents. They saw how terrified they were, and even though zombies ran through the streets they used to play on, creating havoc everywhere, the scariest part to them, was seeing how their parents were falling apart. Joey, Jakob, Estella, and Romona were all old enough to see their moms and dads losing their minds. Always looking up to them, knowing they could solve any problem, and to suddenly see them at a loss, giving up, was the most frightening thing they had seen. Frankito and Braxton were too young, but even then, the fear was coming from every body in the house.

The guys talked, even without speaking. After a while, of seeing all the fear and silence of their families, they all decided on something. Just by looking into each others' eyes, they all knew what should happen. It was a silent agreement, but once the kids went to sleep, they came forward to their wives to tell them of their plan. At first, they wouldn't have anything to do with it. Leaving to another country while their husbands stayed, waiting for their own rescue was out of the question.

Yet, after a few more days of seeing death all around, and the stress of surviving getting to their heads, they agreed on the plan. Since they had enough money, they could afford for their families to escape on a small jet. By this time, the airports hadn't been run out by the dead, so only the rich could afford their getaways. Knowing there wouldn't be room for themselves, they urged for their wives to take the kids and get out.

Of course that was hard, especially on the kids, but their moms had the explanations for them. Maybe inaccurate, but something to ease their minds. Still, their dads were being left behind where everyone else was dying. It wasn't something they were looking forward to, but they went along with it.

It was a sad departure. It had to be quick, to avoid all the crazy people trying to force their way onto the plane. "I have every right to be on that plane, just like them!" A lady screamed as they all climbed on board. "Famous people and regular people are all the fucking same! How can they be treated greater than us in a time like this?" A man screamed, trying to shove the security off him. It was Hell just to make sure they got out safely, but reluctantly, they made it out, to Europe. It made them glad their families got out, but once the reality sunk in, depression started quick.

Still, Miss Mari Jane had to suffice. After a long time, like a few months, the guys had given up on seeing anyone again. They grew used to the zombie life they lived, trying to survive, as much as they didn't want to. They were stuck, and had been stuck together, and with the crazy neighbor, Todd. He wasn't good company, but it was nice to live next to someone else, also living.

So Billie watched the copter as it stopped spinning. He hoped for something to crawl out of the driver's seat at least. Any sign of life from the helicopter would have given his heart a quickness to the beating, even if it was some stupid zombie who managed to get the thing in the air. Even if he knew better, he kept his eyes on it, even when his friends walked away from the accident, turning their backs to the window once more.

"Do you wanna smoke a bowl?" One of the men asked, making Billie look over. He saw it was Mike, trying to lighten the mood. No matter how hard he tried though, it's not anything would bring a sincere smile to any of their faces. Still, the look on his face and the memories racing through his mind of all the good times they had made him smile at Mike.

"I'm still stoned from the last one we smoked. How long ago was that? Oh yea, 10 minutes ago." Tre scoffed.

"I'm just trying to help," Mike protested.

"It does help," Billie said, "but aren't we going to run out if we keep smoking? Besides, I think we should stop with the building up of our tolerance-"

"Okay then," Mike snapped, causing Tre and Billie to quickly look up at him, "what the fuck do you guys wanna do? I know! Let's go out drinking tonight, oh wait..."

"Mike, calm down." Tre mumbled. Billie threw him a quick glare, subliminally telling him to shut up.

"Mike," Billie started, "I know this shit sucks. I know. But there is nothing else to do..."

Mike stood, quiet, for a while. Just staring at the floor, and occasionally glancing up at one another, they sat in silence, until Mike spoke up again.

"I'm sorry guys, I'm just going crazy." He sighed, looking at his feet. "I miss my kids, and I'm sick of seeing the blood smeared street. I'm sick of Todd killing all the entertainment, and I'm sick of the way we're living right now. Let's face it, we're dead, and well... I'd rather have a bullet in my head then walking the earth, trying to find someone to put in my mouth."

Tre started chuckling at what Mike said. He had always been the jokester, but he never got tired of it. By now, everyone shrugged him off, because sadly, his joking was the one thing keeping his head above water, so to speak. If making bad jokes in the situation kept Tre from snapping and tearing heads off bodies like the zombies, then they allowed it. Even if they were poorly placed jokes, and did nothing but irk them.

They ignored him, and Billie spoke again. "Don't give up yet. I mean, why the fuck would we have held on so long if nothing were to come of this?" He asked, and they both looked into his eyes, starting to strain from holding back tears.

No one answered, It only got quiet again.

Gloria's POV

Life was supposed to flash before your eyes when you died. It never happened when I died into my zombie form, and it didn't happen as my face smacked against the road. I waited, really. I waited for the movie of my life to start, and I really couldn't wait for the trailers to be over. Yet, nothing happened. I almost wanted to cry. All the memories I had forgotten, I so badly wanted to relive before I went out forever. I never got to see anything though.

I could have just picked myself up, but once I lay flat on my front, on the asphalt, I asked myself, "What's the point in getting up?" There really was none. Because, I would get up, just to be shot down again. The guy who had shot me obviously watched the movie Dawn of the Dead too many times. He thought you could shoot us in the head, and then we'd be forever immobile. Not true. You had to rip out our hearts. Simple as that. So this bullet wound on the back-right of my neck wouldn't kill me. The bullet definitely wouldn't send me into Morticulo Mortis. Sadly, I was way ahead of the bullet.

Where'd all the zombies go that Todd killed though? I just said bullets don't kill us. They probably laid there dead, like me, but unable to get up, because they can't figure it out. But think about it; are there zombies laying all over? No. So where else would those carcases go? Maybe other zombies came and ate them? Yea, because I want to eat a mouthful of rotting, disease infested, stale, sour, dried out flesh. No thanks.

Simply enough, they just pick up and crawl away when the old man sleeps. I stared at him enough to know he turns his back to the window more than he should for being neighborhood watch. The way my face hit the road made it to where I was facing his house, and I could see him turn to look over to the house next to him a lot, not paying attention to the road. I could smell weed coming from that house. I so badly wanted to go over there, and ask if they wanted to smoke a bowl, since I hadn't had anything better to do for months, and I had a long time ahead of me. I would be lost within forever soon enough, always walking so aimlessly.

I wouldn't get a chance to smoke with someone else for a loooong time. They could always have the entitlement to say 'I've smoked with a zombie' and make some fame off of it. Like, a brutal deathcore band name or something. I thought it would be cool anyway. If I would have been in their shoes. Yet, they would never know what it's like to take bong rips with zombies.

If I stood, that would be more than stereotypical to them. He'd have his gun pointed at me, the old man, and I'd be shot down again. I won't lie, the shot-blasts were powerful, throwing me to the ground in all... They did hurt, too. I wasn't completely dead, so of course I could feel pain. Laying there was time I could use for the pain to die down.

It'd be an endless game, and before I knew it, everything would be torn apart on me, being covered in bullet holes, creating gashes covering an entire part of my body. Most likely, my head. He'd be Having a Blast as he shot at me, knocking me down. The stoners inside would probably laugh, thinking I was some stupid zombie. Which, I'm not, so I stayed put, smelling the rot of zombie blood, flesh, and other bodily fluids from humans and such, off the pavement.

Geddon stayed put with me, though. He was a good little zombie kitten. He could read my mind, and he knew to stay put. It's not like I told him to, but he was smart. He'd been through a lot, and he knew better than that to walk around when a guy had just tried killing me. The old ass would probably kill Geddon just for kicks because he's so bored, because he's so pathetic for stickin' around a shit hole like that, just to kill walking, dead targets.

The pain was staying intense though. It made it real hard to stay put, pretending to be dead.

Feeling the pain, thinking of what led up to it, I wanted to scream, actually. I left the one thing that loved a rotting, nothing of a cadaver like me. I left just to I could get shot. Still, thinking of him escaping into better places made me feel right about my decision. It also made me mad though, thinking of how he could just leave like that. He had the choice, and I didn't. I was jealous, I guess, and being jealous was a sickening thing for me. It always made me mad.

Thinking of that bitch coming to save him. How the shit she did it, I don't know, but after she was the one who killed him, he would only die faster if he actually went. I saved him, and he gets pissed about it. I was hungry, and unfortunately for her, my favorite meal were those I hated most.

So, off he went with his dog, and here I was, relaxing on the street, when I could be up, searching. I still didn't forget the purpose of the whole trip. It was to find them and I was going to do it. I just had to wait for the right time to get up and run as fast as my thrashed legs would take me. That old man had nothing better to do.

As soon as I was about prepared to just sit there, and be fine with it, I heard something so sudden and out of the blue. I could already hear the sound of the helicopter flying around, which already had me annoyed, but the sound of it getting closer was making it harder to lay still. But I never had as hard of a time playing dead than when I heard the crash. I knew he had crashed it, and well, I almost wanted to jump up to help. I did feel bad, I just, couldn't help my other feelings.

So I stayed put, listening for him to get up, and get shot too. I know he wasn't close enough, because the crash was a little off in the distance, but I wanted to be able to hear him, to see if he was alive. Maybe then, I could risk one more shot, making sure he stayed away. But my pain intensified when he crashed. I started to grind my teeth, trying not to scream. My whole head hurt the instant he crashed, and all I could do was take it.

Until I heard Billie... Christian's dog. He was barking, obviously trying to wake Christian up. I could hear him a little, what he was thinking anyway. Screaming for Christian to hurry, for something. I wanted to talk to him, but it's not like we could talk through mind-power. I could just decipher his barks with his brain waves. It was weird, but he couldn't hear me unless I screamed, and I wasn't about to do it. Not when the old man had to have been alert now. He wasn't going to have the satisfaction of shooting me one more damned time.

I couldn't help but try to turn my head when I heard a certain noise though. It was Billie's paws hitting the pavement.

No One's POV

"Maybe we could do one last concert," Tre joked, standing up. "I'm down to smoke another bowl."

"Oh yea," Mike almost laughed, "a bunch of dead guys at our show, not a single one of them even enjoying it. Sounds like a Blink 182 concert to me."

Billie couldn't help laugh at this one. He might not have been in the mood for jokes, but he couldn't deny that they all three disliked that band. and the members in it. Greatly. It had all three of them crackin' up, and for once, they had sincere smiles on their faces.

"Guys!" Todd called, suddenly. Ruining the moment.

They all jumped up to see what he was freaking out about. Once they reached the window, they stared in shock. Billie was smiling, thinking of how cool it'd be to have a zombie dog or something. He would have loved to have had Zero with him again, even if he was a little rotten. The guys were agreeing with him, too. They all were seeing the zombie dog, and Mike and Tre both had said "How badass". Mike even made a joke, just to make up for the moment Todd ruined just to see the damn MIT.

"Guys, remember when I said that dogs were going to take over the world?"

He didn't even have to finish getting to the point. They all instantly got it and started to laugh.

"Cut it out!" Todd urged. "I'ma shoot the darn thing!"

"No!" Billie called, jumping up. "Why would you shoot a dog?"

"Because he's dead, boy!" Todd retorted.

"Quit wasting bullets, old man." Tre chimed in.

"Ehh," the old man groaned, "He doesn't deserve my effort anyhow."

The guys watched him walk away, sitting on his couch in front of his t.v. to watch the same tape he'd been watching every day. It was an old movie, from who knows when, about cowboys, and the old man loved it. It was a good thing he did, because then the guys had that while away from him. They continued to watch the dog though. They weren't sure what he was doing, running toward where the girl had fallen, but he looked like he came from the helicopter. The dog came out of the blue, otherwise. He stopped at her body, though, and then, they could guess what he was doing.

"Guys, do you think that was that girl's dog or something, and like," Tre started rambling, "he died when she was a little girl, and now here he is to find her, but... he's too late..."

"Shut up, Tre." Billie said casually, like he was used to that kind of shit from Tre by now.

Mike turned back to Tre, just to inform him on how stupid everything was that he just said. "Tre, if that were the case, the dog would be skeleton form, not with a full coat of fur."

Billie chuckled at that, still watching the dog. He liked it, and yet he felt bad all the same. That dog had obviously been hers, and he had found her. Dead now, and not knowing what to do. He kept a close eye on the dog, until he noticed movement from the girl. Out from behind her, a little kitten apeared. Once Billie's jaw dropped, the guys looked up at him after they were talking and noticed his face right away. They looked out at the spot again, just to see what had Billie to shocked. They saw the kitten, and couldn't believe it when the cat sat right next to the dog. Something was obviously up here, and it was only going to get more interesting for them all.