Six months. It’s been six months since all of this happened. Since the dead started walking and feasting on the living. I can’t believe I survived this long. I guess I was lucky I was able to outrun both the undead and the other survivors when the military shelter got overrun. But now it seems like I’m out of luck. After the shelter got overrun I fled to a local supermarket where I and about fifty other people barricaded ourselves. But now we’re running out of food and we only have three guns. A 9 mm glock, a .38 revolver and an old rusty shotgun that belongsto the store’s manager, Ted, in case of stick-ups. People are starving and there’s no denying action needs to be taken, but the group we sent out to scout the area for food hasn’t come back yet. They left two weeks ago. For their sake, I hope their deaths were quick.
My train of thought is interrupted by that idiot Mr. Goldstein. I don’t think anyone knows his first name. Even during the apocalypse he still wears a suit and has that awefully obvious combover. Vanity never dies, it seems.Neither does greed, as we caught him trying to steal food from the storage room a couple of times.
“We have aproblem!” He yelled.
“Of course we have a problem, you moron. There’s an apocalypse going on in which dead people come back to life to eat the living and we are all starving.
“What isit?” I ask as politely as possible.
“It’s Jeremy and David. They’re at it this time.” His tone is extremely snobby and judgemental,but I decide to ignore it.
“What is it about?“ I ask.
“I don’t know what it is about, but it got so far out of hand, David had to pull his revolver on Jeremy!” He sounds genuinely in panic now.
“Shit, sounds serious. Let’s see what I can do.” I get up and follow Goldstein out ofthe storage room into the store.
I don’t know why people come to me to solve problems like this. I guess it is because I diffused a few potential fights a couple of times. Now they look at me like I’m the messiah of solving disputes. I hate it, though I suppose it is necessary. Especially now. Jeremy is a tall and intimidating man built like a quarterback, but David has a gun.Jeremy is here with his wife and his son and daughter. David can’t be older than twenty-five. He wears a signature blue t-shirt that says ‘milf hunter’.Charming. But he is a good guy. I don’t know what could have provoked him to draw his gun on someone.
As I walk into the store, still following Goldstein, I see people gathered around the conflict. It’s dead silent except for Jeremy’s almost unintelligible screams. Something about his family needing food, I think. In the corner of my eye I see his wife, Ann, holding their kids and on the verge of breaking down in tears. I feel bad for her, but I can’t let her distract me from the task at hand, even though I’m not looking forward to doing it.
I make my way through the crowd of people to see jeremy being more angry than I’ve ever seen him, veigns popping out of his neck, screaming at an obviously terrified David who’s barely able to hold his gun. He's shaking like a straw. I’m pretty sure he’s almost crying.
“Give me your goddamn gun, boy! I swear to God, if you won’t let me take care of my family, I will take you out!” Spit flies out of Jeremy’s mouth as he says it.
“Jerry, I can’t do that! We have too few weapons already I can’t give you it you know that!” David speaks really fast, trying to not let Jeremy interrupt him.
“Boy, Ted and Jonah already refused me but I’m out of fucking patience now! If you don’tgive me that gun I’m afraid you’re gonna have to shoot me!”
“Whoah, Jeremy, relax man. What is this all about?” I quickly intervene.
“I need a weapon to go look for food for my family!” He yells at me, getting only a fewcentimeters away from my face. “You aren’t doing anything!” He turns his attention to the entire group. At least he’s away from my face. “All of y’all ain’t doing shit! I’m taking matters into my own hands! If you can’t take care of eachother, I’m taking care of my own!”
Damn, he’s right. His presentation leaves much to be desired but we need to get our shit together and solve this problem. Before I can say anything, a hispanic woman in the crowd responds:
“What are we supposed to do? My husband went out last time and now… Oh God… Who knows what happened to him? My son doesn’t have a father anymore!” She cries.
This interruption seems to calm Jeremy down, being the family man he is. It allows me to get a word in.
“As much as I hate to admit it, you do have a point, Jeremy. We desperately need food. I suggest we take a small group-“
“And who do you suggest goes then?! Did you already forget what happened to the others?!” Goldstein interrupts. Who else? Trying to save his own ass, no doubt.
I let out a sigh. “Volunteers only. We leave at the break of dawn tomorrow.”
Edited by That Guy, 16 April 2012 - 12:45 PM.