Categories > Original > Horror


by ZombieSlayer13x 1 review

2012 did come. too bad it wasn't like the movies. It was a zombie apocalypse. Frank Cove is the only survivor. Here's his story. Inspired by the song Doomsday by Atreyu.

Category: Horror - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Horror - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2011-07-07 - Updated: 2011-07-19 - 3500 words - Complete

Disclaimer: I don't own this song.


‘Make a left, then a right, up the first flight of stairs, through the door, and then you’re safe.’ I thought to myself. I looked around the corner.

‘DAMN IT!’ I mentally cursed. They were everywhere. All I needed to do was get in that building and I would be in the safe zone.

Was anywhere really safe these days though? I hid behind the wall once more. Then I looked up to the sky, said my prayers, loaded my semi-automatics, and ran.

Of course they saw me coming the second I set foot in the open. They ran at me, mouth’s open, arms flailing. Some were making horrible moaning noises. They all had trails of blood coming out their mouths. Some were missing limbs with blood pouring out of the wounds.

I shot the ones closest to me point blank. No time to be jerking around. I’d double tap, but in situations like this you didn’t want to use more than one bullet per zombie.

Yeah that’s right, I said zombie. 2012 came as predicted. It came earlier than thought though. It was much worse than all the movies too. Instead of earthquakes and the world flooding, a deadly plague broke out. No one knows how it started. There were rumors that it was rats. Scientists thought it was more genetically enhanced version of the bubonic plague.

This, my friends, was the start of Doomsday.

It started with a fever. Then you started coughing up blood, and slowly your mind wasted away until you were stripped of all sanity. You got terrible lesions all over your body. Hospitals were bursting the first year of the plague. Doctors thought it was an epidemic and boy were they right. The patients would seem to get better, some were actually released they became so well. That’s when it hit you. Once you hit the point of “recovery” you only had hours. Tremors racked your body. The organs slowly shut down on you, one by one.

Then you died a slow painful death. Only after the patient died did the real horror begin. Somehow, the dead started waking up. No one knows how to this day. It was like the disease provided adrenaline rushes that brought the dead back to life.

Or parts of them.

The only brain function they had left was to feed. All they thought about was feeding. They didn’t feed on normal food, oh no. See, these guys had a thing for live meat. You could throw all the steaks you wanted to at them. They only wanted one thing. You. Anything with a heartbeat, really.

I was a doctor back when the world wasn’t contaminated. That’s how I know so much about this plague. I attempted to help some of the infected. If only I would’ve known sooner.

My wife was the only family member I could find who wasn’t infected. I tried to drive us out of town, but they were everywhere. Eventually we just decided to go on foot. All the roads and major highways were littered with the cars of people who tried to escape.

We were lucky enough to find a gun store. We broke in and stole all the semi-automatics we could fit in a duffel bag. We took all the ammo that matched and snagged a couple shotguns and a rifle. A little ways down the road from the gun store we found a car that still had the keys in the ignition. We basically lived off of luck. We put the guns in the back and hijacked it to where we are now. Las Vegas, Nevada. The once beautiful city is now something out of a horror movie. That brings me back to where I currently am.

The building I’m attempting to get into is a safe zone, like I mentioned before. It was supposed to be a safe house where other survivors from Vegas were. My wife was in there somewhere too.

We got separated a couple days ago. We agreed that if that ever happened we’d try to get to the safe zone and meet up there.

Hold on, I have to interrupt the story to shoot this zombie.

He came from behind. I barely had time to raise my semi. I shot him in the head then dropped and rolled to avoid another zombie that lunged at me.

Ugh, old woman zombies are NOT a pretty sight…..especially when they’re foaming at the mouth.

The door to the building was within my sights, just three more zombies and a flight of stairs. I shot the first two zombies. Their skulls emitted a sickening crack. I fired at the third zombie, but found I had no ammo left.

I threw my semi’s down; they were no more use to me. Then I silently cursed then looked around for another weapon. I found a pipe about ten feet to my left but the zombie was closing in on me. I didn’t know if I had time to reach it. I briefly debated hand to hand combat, but that left more room to get bitten.

Once you got bitten there was no going back. No cure, no nothing. Suicide was the only answer. I’ve already seen my friend off himself. That’s why it’s easier to travel alone. It hurts less when someone you know gets bitten.

I have a habit of flirting with death, so me being me ran at the zombie full on and tackled him. Before it could get up I stomped on his head. It let out one more grunt, and then was still. There was no room for pity these days. It was a war zone, every man for himself.

I launched myself at the stairs, taking them two at a time, and then pounded on the door screaming my heart out, begging to be let in.

I looked around, adrenaline pumping through my veins, in search of more zombies. I had about five minutes until another hoard came. I’m sure they heard the commotion. I was pulled back out of my thoughts by the door opening. Whoever was behind it wouldn’t open it all the way. I could only see an eye and half their face.

“Are you bitten?” The person asked in a curt tone.

“No,” I replied. This guy was starting to piss me off.

Can’t he tell a zombie horde will be here for me in a matter of minutes?

Just let me in the damn building already!!

The person gave me a once over then let me in. The second I set foot inside the door was shut and bolted four times.

“Welcome to paradise,” The person said bitterly, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the cold, concrete floor.

I turned around but they had already walked away.

I took in my surroundings. It was a huge warehouse. All the windows were boarded up. There were clumps of families everywhere. Some sick and dying lay in one corner with a middle aged woman tending to them.

Everyone looked as dirty and sleep deprived as me. I hadn’t slept in three days and the last time I washed was probably seven months ago.

Ever since the apocalypse started two years ago you were lucky to find a clean water supply, or a house with running water still. I frantically searched the crowd for one face, and one face only, my wife.

A fragile looking old woman came over to me with a clipboard.

“Name, age, gender, and hometown,” She said.

“Why?” I asked.

“We need to make a list of everyone that comes and goes so we can keep track of how many people are here.”

“Oh,” I said, “Do names really matter? It’s the end of the world for Pete’s sake!”

“Sorry, it’s the rules.”

“Fine,” I said brusquely, “My names Dr. Frank Cove, male……” I struggled to remember my age and hometown. Those were things people tried to forget when doomsday struck. It only made the pain worse, “I’m thirty years old, and from Wichita, Kansas.”

“Thank you sweetie,” The woman replied while writing it down, “Hey, you said your last name was Cove right? And you’re from Wichita?” She asked.

“Yeah, why?” I said, starting to get my hopes up that maybe my wife was here after all.

“There was a woman that came through here earlier. She was from Wichita and had your last name.”

“What happened to her?” I demanded, walking closer. I towered over this woman.

“Oh, poor dearie was bitten. We cleaned up the wound best we could but told her she couldn’t stay here,” The old woman said, sorrow in her eyes, “She was so sweet and understanding. Some people go on a rampage when denied shelter.”

My heart felt like lead. I had an urge to throw up.

“Was her name Shannon?!?” I asked, my voice growing louder. The woman looked at me, trying to think. I grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her, “WAS. HER. NAME. SHANNON?!?!?!” I all but screamed. The poor woman looked so scared.

“…yes..yes it was. Now please let go of me!!” She asked. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

I felt devastated. I came all this way for nothing. My wife was probably one of them by now, or another corpse littering the streets. She was always so strong. That’s what I loved most about her. She rather shoot herself then become one of them.

Some men that were standing nearby came over and tried to pry my hands off her shoulders. Everything after that was a blur. Hot tears stung my eyes and I started throwing punches at anyone near me. I felt someone fighting back, then a blow to the head and I was out cold.


I woke up in a small room. It looked like one of the offices. I was in a chair. I sat up and rubbed my head. There was a small lump on my scalp.

It all came back to me, the woman, zombie’s, my wife’s death. I started crying. It was the first time I’d cried in over two years. I cried for my wife, the other people in this place, and the souls of the damned.

Just then, a man walked in.

“Ah, Dr. Cove, I see you’re up. Feel any better? You put up quite a fight! You took a nasty beating to the head too.” The man said.

“Yeah I’m fine. Who are you?”

“I’m Dr. Bob. I’m the doctor in this warehouse.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of putting your medical skills to good use and assist me here. We need the help”

“Uh….I don’t know Doc. Give me some time to think about.”

“Sure.” The doctor said. Then he walked out the door without another word.

When he left I prayed. I was never a religious person, but when this all happened I found myself praying to God more. I prayed to him to keep my wife and I safe. I also prayed for every other survivor out there. Now I prayed that my wife’s soul found peace.

I waited in the room a couple more minutes, and then got up and walked out. My legs were stiff and sore but I shook it off. I must have been in a manager’s office because once I walked out the door I was on a balcony that overlooked the whole warehouse. I got a bird’s eye view of the place.

I walked down the stairs to the main floor. A young boy, probably around the age of eight, greeted me. He asked if I wanted food. I told him I did so he took me to a small room that had had some food on the table. The boy told me that they didn’t have much, and what they did get was shared with everyone. The boy got a small piece of stale bread for himself, and then tossed a small apple to me.

“You only take what you need and nothing more. You can try to find some space on the floor that’s not occupied to sleep on,” the boy explained.

“Ok,” I replied lamely. The boy said he had to be somewhere and left. I went to find the good doctor.

I didn’t have to look far. I found him tending to a patient in the far corner of the building. She looked like she had a fever. I looked out the window through the cracks in the planks, it was nighttime. I could hear the screams of zombie’s and with their prey. I shuddered and turned away.

“Doc, I decided to take you up on your offer,” I said in a cheery voice as I approached him.

“Splendid!” He said in an equally cheery voice, “That patient over there needs his bandage changed,” He said while motioning to a young man sitting on a wooden crate.

“Okay,” I said as I walked over to him.

One Week Later

Everything seemed to be going fine. We didn’t see any more survivors since I arrived. Some of the sick started getting better. Doc had me busy so I had time to forget about my wife. I still mourn her occasionally but I’m learning to slowly let her go.

Today was one of my slow days. I was up in my room (the Doc and I got to share the manager’s office as our room) counting how much ammo I had left. I was able to carry three semi’s and a rifle in my duffel. I had never even shot the riffle before, so I had a box full of ammo for that. I only had enough ammo left to fill each semi once.

I knew I’d have to make an ammo run soon. I really liked this place, but it wasn’t meant to be my permanent home. I’d miss all the incredible people I’ve met but I felt like there was something else out there for me. I was sitting there pondering the day I’d leave when Dr. Bob came in.

“Frank, I have to show you something. Something important you must never tell anyone else about. It is to be used in emergencies only,” He stood up and led me to a supply closet. He opened the door and took out one of the tiles at the bottom of it. I tried to look over his shoulder but it was of no avail.

“What have you got there Doc?” I asked.

He turned around and held out his hand.

“A grenade,” I stared at it stupidly.

“If the building is ever under attack, all hope is gone, and you can’t find me, use this. Run to the middle of the building and pull the pin. Can you do that for me?” He looked at me.

“Uh….yeah doc…yeah,” I said. Still trying to get my head around, WHERE THE HELL HE GOT THAT FROM!!!

He put it back.

“You seriously believe we’re gonna need that?” I asked.

“Maybe one day. You never know. It’s better to be safe than sorry,” He said. He walked back down the stairs that headed to the main area, leaving me dumbfounded.

I never thought we’d need it.

Two Weeks Later:

Tonight was the night. I had all my stuff packed. Now it was only a matter of saying goodbye. I wanted to let as little people as possible know of my plans. I hated saying goodbyes. I looked over my room one last time.

I knew nighttime was probably the worst time to leave, but I couldn’t stand this place one more second. I got up and grabbed my duffel. That was when all hell broke loose. Literally.

I heard a woman screaming from the main building. I put my duffel back down again and grabbed two semi’s. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

What met my eyes made me want to retch. Zombie’s somehow made it inside the building. I searched for the source and found a broken window near the back. The planks looked like they were violently ripped off.

One of the patients must’ve gone crazy and tried to escape; leaving the window bare for zombie’s to get in.

Some men that had guns were trying to shoot the zombie’s, but there was simply too many. I shot at the ones closest to me from the balcony. Then I ran to the storage closet and grabbed the grenade.

I ran back to the balcony and I tried to locate the doctor. I found him holding off two zombies while protecting the boy that got me food a few weeks prior.

“DOCTOR!” I shouted at him. He looked at me as I ran down the stairs, across the room, and towards him. I shot the zombies in the back of the head.

“Are you bitten?” I asked him.

“No, you?”

“Nope. What about him?” I asked pointing to the boy.

“He’s fine.”

I looked around.

To make it simple, it was chaos.

They were everywhere.

I started leading the doctor and boy towards the entrance. I knew we didn’t have much time. All the noise and gunshots would lead a bigger horde towards the warehouse.

I heard a scream and turned around in time to see a zombie latching onto the boy. I too screamed and shot the zombie. It was too late though. The boy was bitten.

I exchanged a glance with the doctor. The boy just nodded his head at us. He understood. The doctor didn’t even hesitate as he pulled the trigger.

I looked around and noticed the doctor and I were basically the last humans standing in the warehouse. Everyone else was dead or dying.

The zombies must’ve noticed too because they all turned on us. We shot our way through the horde towards the entrance. I heard the doctor cry out in pain and turned around.

One of them grazed his arm with their teeth. We didn’t really dwell on it, we just kept running.

Right as I got to the door I turned around. The doctor was no longer behind me.

I turned around and came face to face with a giant zombie. I swear this guy must’ve been at least 6 foot 3. Half his face was torn off, revealing his gums and rotting teeth. His skin was decaying and flaking off, his clothes were torn and bloody. The zombie focused it's one eye on me, the other aimlessly rolling around in his skull.

I raised my semi and pulled the trigger.

Much to my disdain, I was empty. I swore at the heavens and was ready to run. At that moment I felt a tug behind me and I fell to the ground. I kicked away some oncoming zombies, but it was a fruitless attempt. There were too many and I had no weapons.

I turned around and crawled onto some crates. I stood on top of them and looked around. I had no escape root and zombies were already attempting to climb up the crates to get to me.

Suddenly I remembered the grenade in my pocket.

I really hoped to live through another day, but sometimes life doesn’t work that way. I thought about it:

There were at least a hundred zombies in here, and more flocking. The grenade would easily take out this whole warehouse. That would be a hundred less zombies in the world. A hundred less zombies the other survivors had to deal with.

Who was I to be so selfish as to wish to live, when there were hundreds of thousands who had died in vain?

To live on this apocalyptic planet was a curse.

I savored the moment a little, probably the last moment I’d ever have on earth.

I looked at the zombies around me. I said a quick prayer for them and for my own soul, then pulled the pin on the grenade.


The last thing I saw was white. I heard a loud boom, and then it was silent. There is no such thing as pain anymore, just paradise. I hear my wife calling to me from somewhere above. It’s finally time to go home.

“Seem like doomsday has come early this year. The last angel has gone. I can't remember the last time I cried. The last angel has gone home.” – Doomsday by Atreyu
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