Gas Station in Cranberry

Paradise Consumed: Part 2

Last Updated on by Michael Brockbank

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.
[adrotate banner=”8″] Kitchen knives are not very reliable when it comes to taking on the dead one-on-one. They are often too flexible and easy to break when it comes to fighting for your life. While a slashing blow can be deadly with a kitchen knife, it’s the piercing blows that are harder to recover from. Either the blade will bend, the handle breaks or in one instance, the blade was almost impossible to remove. Then there is the aspect of how long the dead have been walking around. A fresh corpse has a much stronger skull than one that has been around the neighborhood for a few months. Tissue degeneration makes taking out older zombies much easier. As I rummaged through the small apartment, I was keeping an eye out for something far stronger. A long, thick screw driver would work nicely. I wouldn’t be able to slash with it, but it would make piercing attacks to the brain much easier to handle.

After searching every room from the top floor to the middle, I found something that may be helpful in my escape. It was an old hammer. A good strong bludgeoning blow could take down a zombie as long as the brain tissue was damaged in the process. Since these apartments were pretty ravaged by other looters, the hammer was pretty much the only thing I was going to find for what I needed.

I slowly made my way down the remaining stairs towards the lobby. If the dead did make it into the building, I didn’t want to charge into the middle of a hungry horde. I felt my heart quicken with each step. Finally, I arrived at the ground level. Looking through the doors of the apartment complex, I could see that the army of zombies was beginning to dissipate. That’s one thing you can rely on zombies to do; forget about their prey. Wait long enough, and the entire group will slowly walk away – as long as you don’t make any noises. Drop an empty can on the floor, and the entire heard will come back.

Making it to the lake was going to be tricky. The bulk of the dead were standing immediately in my path. I was going to have to go around a few blocks and take more of a scenic route. This was more ideal anyway since this would hide my escape from the town. Before they would hear my footsteps along the road, I would be long gone.

I held quiet and still for what seemed like an hour. The last of the bodies walked away from the eastern door – the one I was going to use to start my trek out of town. This would put me on the main street with a clear path all the way to the end of the populace. With as much speed as I could muster, a flew from the steps and up to the door. I quickly flipped the locking mechanism that held the door shut and run out onto the street. As I started to turn to head south along the main road, my foot caught the curb wrong and I stumbled to the asphalt. My knee hit the road with a loud pop. Even with the adrenaline surge, the pain was almost unbearable. Suddenly, a few of the undead saw me laying on the road. Their gate hastened towards me. One by one, the zombie horde turned to face what they hoped was their next meal. I tried to get to my feet to run, but my knee gave out and I hit the road again. Looking down main street, I could see many more zombies filling my escape route. I wouldn’t have made it out this way even if my knee was in good shape. I looked over across the street and saw the remnants of a gas station. Even though the door was ripped away and the windows were all broken out, I was certain I could find some place to hide. My route back to the apartments had been completely cut off.

I hobbled onto one foot and began hopping my way to the gas station. Once I walked into the structure, I looked around frantically looking for somewhere to hide. To my left was an open door to the bathroom. It looked to have a metal door, which would make smashing it in next to impossible for zombies who didn’t have the upper body strength to do so. As I hopped on one foot, I drop the hammer. I looked back in time to see the gas station beginning to flood with the dead. I could see the bathroom was empty and jumped into the room. I slammed the door shut behind me and reached up to lock it. After feeling around for what seemed an eternity, I found the locking mechanism and turned the knob. As soon as the lock clicked into place, a large thud erupted from the door. They were trying to get in.

I exhaled a sigh of relief. All I had to do now is wait them out. I had a few supplies left and could probably make it for a few days. However, I had a much bigger problem to address. My knee wasn’t feeling any better. Sitting in the dark, all I could do was feel around and assume the extent of the damage. I was hoping that I only twisted it and nothing more. Otherwise, I would be in a great deal of trouble.

Living in a post-apocalyptic world surrounded by people who are looking to eat you was definitely more of an adventure that no one had considered. Instead of base-jumping, bungee cords or sky diving, basic survival was the extreme sport of choice. This is a world where you either pay attention to where you’re running or become food for the natives. I just hoped that my chapter in this book of life wasn’t going to end in the bathroom of a gas station.

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Michael Brockbank
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