Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-27008899-20160521013843

Marco sits crouched behind a dumpster in the dark alley. His knuckles, white as he firmly held the black coated steel of the tire iron he found laying beside it. An empty holster adored his waist that once held a pistol given to him by his father. Now lost in this ruined world, he continued to wear it as a homage to his father who protected these streets long before the creatures took over.

One can hardly call them creatures as they were human at one point in time. It is hard to say exactly when it all started. A few reports on the news of a drugged out nut eating another person, then rioting in the streets, before long the television fell silent. The city became a haven of gore as the dead wondered the streets in search if their next meal, in search of human flesh. Marco is very aware of what hordes of things can do. He watched from his apartment window as an army of police and military were swarmed, then consumed as though they were little more than a blockade of freshly served dinners lining the streets.

The apartment, where his wife and child currently wait for him, seemed to be the only safe place left in the city. After the other residents scrambled to leave the city, Marco took it upon himself to barricade the doors of the run down building. The only tenant left was old Mrs. Hartland, who rarely emerged from her apartment even before the out break. Marco wrote her off a long time ago as one of the living dead. But, since her door was locked, as was his apartment, he felt no need to verify what he already knew. The apartment is the last bastion of sanity left to him. He would be there now, if not for the shambling bastard meandering it's way down the alley.

Marco readied himself as the creature approached the dumpster. He can hear the sound as it moves. 'Thump...shhhh...thump...shhhh.' Dragging one leg behind it, the blood thirsty abomination stumbles ever closer. He clinches the tire iron even tighter. His hand are near completely white as bead of sweat began rolling down his cheek as it drew near. He watched as it stammers past him slowly, and as soon as he could see the back of the monster he leaped, plunging the sharpened end of the steel through the back of beast's skull. A grotesque crack echoed the alley way as the steel met with bone and flesh. Withdrawing his weapon, it fell to the ground with a flop. With some amount of pride, Marco spins the tire iron in his hand around once like a baton, and smiles.

Marco turns to the main road just outside the alley. Knowing that the lights on the street would provide no amount of protection in his goal, he began creeping stealthily to the brightly lit street before him. He could see the fire escape of the apartment that he called home. With a seemingly clear shot to the ladder, he made his way, with light steps. Thankfully the city was not void of several places to find cover. From mailbox to car to doorway, he makes his way down the coruscating road. Every time he goes out he thinks to himself how he should of taken out these lights long ago. But, always comes to the conclusion that doing so puts him in more danger.

From behind the old station wagon he could see the fire escape that stands less than 20 meters away. Marco hears the sound of a trash can fall and quickly ducks back down. The sound of dogs barking in the distance unnerves him a bit, but it the sound of two of creatures coming around the corner that sends a chill down his spine. He could hear the monsters slump down the walk just a few feet from the car he found cover behind. Their gurgles and moans made it sound as though they are right next to him, as they drag their deranged bodies down the street. Marco looks around the empty street. As far as he can see, not another living, or dead for that matter, being is around. 'Whats two less zombies in this world,' he thought to himself, 'these are easy pickings.'

He watches the creatures as they jerk and contort their rotted bodies past the car. He giggles a little as he sees the two women, with their torn fishnet stalkings, tattered mini skirts, their broken stiletto heals, and giant yet patchy hair indicated to him they were once women of the night. They were already brain dead man eaters long before any of this happened. This thought made him snicker just a little. The monsters stop and look around as if they heard his near silent laughter. "Shit." Marco said aloud rising back to his feet and stepping towards the monsters. Gripping the iron with both hands he swings at the one closest to the road. The force of which rips the creature's jaw from its socket, and spins the decrepit body completely around crashing to the hard sidewalk beneath them. His moment threw him for a spin as well, and his back was now facing the other revenant.

It jumps up and latches onto his back quickly and begins digging it's razor sharp dirty nails into his neck and shoulder. Spinning and flailing in the dark street, realizing at the same time the scratches are enough to turn him, he continued to fight for every moment of life he would have left. Sharp jagged teeth pierce his neck as Marco claws at his back to remove the monster. Blood pours down his shirt as the creature pulls back it's head revealing a chunk of Marco's flesh between the mangled shark like barbs. Swelling with rage, Marco grips the monster's hair, with a hard yang he throws the beast over his shoulder and onto the black pavement. Staring down at the corpse looking it in the eyes Marco says "Goodnight my kitten." just before he plunges the tire iron through the creatures left eye. He was always a big fan of Hemingway. It almost seems like it wants to scream, letting out a short loud grunt, just before it's body accepts death.

With the route now clear Marco makes his way to the fire escape. His hands drenched in blood, he wipes them on his blood soaked jeans. They do little to help clean his hands, just enough to grip the bars. Marco jumps up and grabs ahold of the ladder and yanks it down. At the end of the alley he sees another of the beast, as it sees him. The monster roars at Marco, but does not move towards him. "Lucky for you I'm done for the day." Marco replies back as he begins climbing up the ladder to the second floor. Marco smiles at the creature as it continues to bellow at him while making his way to the third floor. "I will get you tomorrow." Marco yells, pulling the window to his apartment up and slinking his body inside.

"Honey, I'm home." he yells closing the window behind him. Marco flops himself on the couch where his daughter is laying down. "Did you miss me?" he says, placing his blood stained hand on her shin. Her white skin is cold to the touch as he pats her ankle. "I got you something," Marco says reaching into his coat to the inside pocket, "it's your favorite." He withdraws his hand holding a candy bar. Anything with chocolate and caramel was her favorite. He drops the candy bar on her chest, along with several others already laying on top of her. A couple slide down between the cushions as it lands on her. Her cold dead eyes stare vacant at the ceiling as he looks at her with a satisfied grin. "Well, I'm heading to bed sweetie, let us know if you need anything." Marco gets up and walks toward the bedroom.

As he walks past the bathroom he glances in the mirror. Marco stops just past the door and backs up. He looks at himself in the mirror. Dirt and blood crusted his hair, his pants and shirt nearly black from being drenched in blood, some spots of what was once a white t-shirt still show through a veil of blood. He looks at his face, now scratched and scared from his recent confrontation with the creatures. He scowls at the mirror wishing the world was different. "Dear?" He says continuing down the hall, sliding his dirty hand on the wall whole way down to the door. "Where are you," Marco places his hand on the door knob to the bedroom of himself and his wife. With a quick twist he opens the door, peeking his head inside he says, "there you are." His wife's body lay still under the blankets.

"Have you been in bed all day again?" Marco asks walking over to the lifeless vessel that once held the love of his life. He picks up a brush from the dresser as he moves to the other side of the bed. He sits on the edge and gently moves the hair from her face. He begins brushing her long dark hair. The hair crackles as the dried blood break apart with the bristles struggling to cut through her hair. He places his hand on her cheek and leans down close to the corpse's ear and gently whispers, "I will be with you soon my love." Marco places the brush on the mahogany night stand on his side of the bed, turns off the light, and lays his head on the pillow next to his wife. He begins to drift off to sleep. Just as he begins to dream he is awoken by a loud smashing sound from the living room.

Marco, startled from his slumber, leaps out of bed and grabs tire iron he fell asleep next to. He is quickly disoriented by lights and screaming. As he begins to make his way toward the door he finds himself laying on his back, with the man dressed completely in black body armor that just bulldozed over him, pointing a gun in his face. "I'm infected, I'm infected!" screams Marco as several other men in black body armor swarm into the room. Two of the men grab Marco by the feet and shoulders flipping him over to his stomach. He looks up from his prone position at the mirror on closet door. Standing in the door way is a tall dark figure, barely recognizable as human. "I'm infected, look at my back!" Marco screams one last time before everything goes dark.

Marco awakens to find himself in a dimly lit room. He finds it hard to make out most of his surroundings at first, still spinning from the blow to the back of his head. He sits up from the creaky thin mattress and rubs the painful knot, wincing in the process. He quickly pulls back his feet off the cold concrete floor beneath him. Cinder block walls hug him closely as he looks around the small room. "Where, where am I?" Marco wonders aloud. With focus returning to his vision he looks to the end of the room. The sight of steel bars become clear as he shakes his head. On the other side stands the dark figure from his room.

"Who are you? Why have I not turned yet? Is that why I'm here, is this some kind of experiment?" Marco asks slowly brushing off the shock and disorientation.

"Ya know, I knew your father," the dark figure begins, "the best damn cop I ever saw. Apparently you were on the same track, for awhile. Top of your class in college and at the academy. Tell me, what could make a man turn away from such a bright future, to go on a killing spree claiming zombies have taken over the world. A homeless man, two prostitutes, and even your own wife for god-sakes! Please tell me, I need to know."

Marco thought for a moment about what the dark figure, which he now recognized as one of the detectives his father trained, was saying. He stands up and walks over to the bars. He places his hands on the cold steel frame and raises his gaze to meet that of the officer. He realized it was was time for him to stop pretending.

"Do you know what it's like to watch your child die. To be completely helpless, as she fades every day. I held her in my arms as the life left her body. Incurable, that's what we were told. All I could do, was watch. Then moments later hearing a gun shot and running in my bedroom, only to see the love of my life laying in a pool of her own blood. No one should have to suffer, not them, not the people on the streets, not even me."

Marco Removes his hand from the bar and turns around. He begins walking back to the jail bunk as tears begin to drip from his cheeks. The detective stood silent.

"Do you detective? Do know what its like?" Marco asks flopping his worn and tattered body on the jail cot.

"No."

Leaning forward Marco replies, "Sometimes, our own reality can be more of a horror story than anything we can imagine." 