As the night began to settle in, the shadows from under the door became less pronounced. It was getting more difficult to see whether the gas station was still filled with the walking dead.
Living in a bathroom isn’t all as bad as you might think. The keyword to remember here is “living.”
I walked down one flight of stairs to find myself something I could use as a melee weapon. Trying to push my way through the horde below was more than likely going to be a close-quarters combat situation. A few days ago, I lost the kitchen knife I had by impaling one of the undead chasing me. I was hoping that I could find something a bit more sturdy.
It wasn’t a perfect world, but it was the only one humanity had. Humanity. That term has lost a great deal of it’s meaning over the past few months. The paradise we once tried so hard to build had been consumed by the very people trying to build it.
He was a large, bulbous man leaning back in a chair that was five seconds from being rubble. At some point in the early morning, he had fell asleep while watching for intruders from his loft ten stories above the ground.