Field of Corpses

“Everybody keeps fucking leaving me!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, but he soon found himself on the ground gasping for breath. Christian’s breathing had gotten worse with each second he continued to die. He was slowly, but surely dying.

He moved his body on the ground so he was sitting now, and without warning to himself, he started crying into his folded arms on his knees. He really was alone now. His last friend had just left to Arizona (to save someone), and all the others had been killed by zombies. He didn’t understand why this was happening, and he didn’t get why he couldn’t rewind time. Why couldn’t he go back in time before he died?

He often wished that a blade on his wrist would have been deeper. He wished he could have been dead and no longer able to move. He got something worse though; he was dead and still living. That was another thing that he didn’t understand. How could this all be? Before he became one, he never thought that zombies were real. They were made up things for stupid stories and stupid music videos. Now he was one, and he didn’t get how it was possible. Nothing made sense anymore.

Christian finally stopped crying and he took a deep breath. He looked up towards the sky and started to whisper. “In a land of make believe that don’t believe in me…”

“When is my chance to leave and get away?” He thought. “Why couldn’t I have gone with the lucky ones who flew away to another country? Why couldn’t I have run away before they completely fenced off Canada? Why couldn’t I…”

It was useless to think. His brain was already turning into mush, so what was the point? He knew there was nothing left to live for, so he might as well make the rest of his being somewhat alive worth it.

He stood up slowly, getting onto his feet, and he began to walk. Just like the other zombies, but he wanted to see the places he passed. He didn’t want to walk just to walk, he wanted to see and be in the places he went to. He didn’t know where he wanted to go, but he sure as hell knew he wanted to leave his home.

He walked onto the front lawn that used to be his home, and he stared at the front. He thought of all the fucked and pleasant memories, then he got angry. He hated that place, and for the first time, he wanted to see it gone.

Eagerly, he walked into the house and went straight to his room. He packed up things that might have been important to him once, and put them in a bag. Out of all the times he wanted to do this when he was alive, he never could. Now he was dead, packing his things, and running away.

He took the time to make a mess around the house with flammable fluids, and he dropped a match perfectly on the trail that started at the front door. The fluid was in flames in seconds, and he was out of the neighborhood in the same amount of time. He never wanted to look back again.

Even as he passed all the skeletons of those who had been killed by zombies, and all the slowly walking corpses, he didn’t think of anything else but his music. The headphones in his ears were blasting as loud as the iPod would allow, and he kept walking quickly. He was dead-set on getting out of that horrid state.

Christian never questioned why the zombies weren’t attacking him, but before he left he was scared of the thought. Now he walked passed them, almost as if he were with, and among the zombies. It was then he realized that they all had something in common.

They weren’t dead bodies escaping their graves, and they weren’t anything like how the movies portrayed. All the zombies had a sad look in their eyes, like something emotional was eating them alive. He thought that, maybe, most of these zombies were actually a lot like himself; maybe they didn’t die right away either. Maybe they died off slowly, but why was he still so alive?

Again, nothing made sense! Nothing in the world ever did to him, but especially now. All morals he thought he had were now vanished, and all his beliefs had been dragged down into the mud. He knew that soon enough the whole world could end up like this, but why was it only America?

Now he was in deep thought, forgetting about his music. He wondered why it was only the US that had been hit with such horror. Why couldn’t it have happened to Finland, or Japan? It was only the United States, and now they weren’t so united. Instead, we were the forgotten states. Our own Government abandoned the country for their own safety, and we were left to fend for ourselves.

It started to make sense though. Maybe we were all slowly dying all a long. We all started dying from the get-go. It was because of how lazy and selfish our country had become. That is how we slowly started dying. It was all adding up now, and Christian was figuring it out. The thing though, was that it was just too late.

He could come up with a theory, and he could find an answer, but in the end, what would it matter? It wouldn’t suddenly bring the dead back to live (in a non-zombified way), and it definitely wouldn’t re-unite us ever again. Christian had to face it, the world as we knew it was dying, and he couldn’t stop it. He lost hope in the country a long time ago, but now he felt even more empty than he started.

There was no one else out there, and soon he’d be the only half-living thing left in the world! Not even the animals stayed living. They all turned into zombies themselves, or a meal for the rest. Soon enough, he’d be ‘living’ in a Dead World.