Means to an end

Pinpointing exactly when it happened is hard. Rather, it was a gradually happening process. It almost feels like this has been my whole life. Ignoring the fact that my memories are fragmented and there are quite a few missing. I heard somewhere that memory loss was a response to trauma. So I always wondered, was mine a response to the world going to shit or being experimented on.

The facility, a giant hospital with laboratories and rooms, cages for their subjects. Where we believed we were doing something good, still do. They were experimenting on us with the hopes to find a cure for a virus. A virus which turns people into zombies. Some tests were brutal, they hurt, made us sick, made us hallucinate. It's easy to forget what you're fighting for when the others around you are dying from the experiments. So many children died. So many doctors too. Suicide. Breaking down a child's mind and body with your own hands must be …unimaginable.

The whole world was overrun by zombies. At first it seemed like the government and military had it under control but looks can be deceiving. They failed us and we were forced into hiding, racing against the clock to fix what they couldn't. That's what the facility was for. West Brahn Hospital and Pathology. I do have fond memories of it but I'm afraid that they are sparse. There are a plethora of bad memories though. I sometime praise the memory loss as it seems to take care of them for me. My brain doesn't remember them but my body does, my senses do. Always littered with bruises, needle marks, claw marks from a sensation under my skin. I would try to claw the flesh of my bones just to stop feeling it. ''A side effect of the drugs'' they would say.

When the virus was made known, some people believed it was nature fighting back, others believed it was a governmental profit scheme gone wrong. People didn't take it too serious as men being violent isn't uncommon but this virus didn't discriminate and it became very clear from the rotting and vacancy that this was not just the common cold. The virus spreads through bodily fluids. Everyone thought it would be easy to contain but as many sicknesses, this virus had an incubation period and symptoms. The symptoms on a still living person are what made it harder. Excessive sweating, over production of saliva, aggressiveness. It spread so fast that the military couldn't keep up. If you were infected but not a zombie yet and someone killed you, it basically just skips the incubation time and you reanimate as a zombie. The zombies matched human in speed and strength, we would be even if not for the fact that zombies doesn't react to pain, or punching off its jaw. Which made them dangerous, they were a relentless force that kept coming back. They didn't react much to animals except when it was attacked, the zombies would defend themselves.

The government thought that over time the zombies would rot away until all are gone but over the years, like all viruses, they evolved, mutated. They've become resilient. The doctors where trying to find the cause and just how they were able to survive. Whether they ever got the answer is a mystery now since all of them are dead. Half eaten on the ground outside the facility.

Why where they all outside and why was I the only one inside?

My sobbing has finally stopped as I stood there taking in the horrid scene in front of me. The sun has already dried my tears and blood, coagulation setting in. I didn't dare to even peak at my arm, afraid of just how bad the wound was. I could feel how bad it was though, saying it hurt is a shameful understatement. The synapses in my brain were short circuiting from the amount of pain. I'm honestly surprised I haven't died from shock yet. Tearing myself from the railing, I make my way down the metal stairs. It's not a long way down since I only ran up one flight of stairs. My eyes are constantly scanning my surroundings to watch out for anymore zombies. My minds a mess. The siren makes sense now at least. I have no recollection of what led up to this point. I've lain in that same bed countless times so I have no idea which memory was the last one.

While stepping off the last step my eyes catches a glimpse of my arm. I wince, it looks disgusting. From the angle I can see there is a big chunk bitten out and I can feel blood dripping from my fingers. I can't just leave it. I'm at a hospital so administering treatment should be easy, but going back inside, there where the very cause of my gaping flesh wound was. Maybe I can wrap my gym legging around my arm to keep pressure. My good arm moves up only to brush over the fabric over my shoulder. Fucking hell. I must've dropped my bag inside while fighting for my fucking life. My head falls back as I groan loudly. I need to go back. If not for the bag, for some supplies at least. The wound on my arm will definitely not be the last so getting a med kit at least would be really useful. I tread to the edge of the wall. The reception entrance is just around the corner. If I can get in there, I could get my bag and a first aid kit. The reception always had one under the counter for emergencies. Getting to the cafeteria would be good too, there are a lot of non-perishables in the pantry. The nearest town is a long ways away so getting something to eat before I leave is necessary. I peak around the corner; I don't see any more zombies, just the red light pulsing through the glass doors, the siren still ever present. Slowly but with big steps, I go to the entrance. I watch over my shoulder first, making sure there truly won't be any more surprises. Then, I peak through the glass, scanning for the previous zombie. I can't see far enough down the hall though so I have no idea if its still there. I'll just have to risk it. I push against the door, it's heavy and it takes a lot of effort to get it open even just a little bit. With a grunt I slip through the opening. I would have preferred to keep it open but the door is just too heavy to press all the way open, so it closes behind me. I stand there for a second, holding my breath. Nothing. I breathe out, it doesn't seem like I alerted any zombies. With light steps, I walk towards the front desk, peering down the hall. The site is somewhat pitiful. The zombie is no longer there but there is a puddle of blood, red smears around it and a blood trail leading to the staircase. My gym bag is still there. I decide to get the med kit first.

Going behind the desk, I drop to my knees, searching for the box. It should be a white with a red cross. Standard really. There are papers everywhere but I finally find the box. I open it, taking note of everything inside, disinfectant, gauze, small scissors, and medical tape. There are a few other thing but the main things I need are there. I open the disinfectant bottle dripping the liquid over my wound. I hiss out in pain, arms shaking from the burn. Now I finally get a good look at the wound and it looked horrible. Muddled, dark, pieces of flesh sticking out in every direction. I dip some more of the disinfectant over it. Not that it would help much, a bite wound is 100% death, or zombification. With the amount of blood and saliva coming from that zombie there really is no doubt that the virus is already running its course. Taking out a big gauze piece I wrap it around my arm and sticking the end in place with the tape. There are other pieces of gauze still left so I close the box keeping it in my hand. I stand back up, walking out from behind the counter. Now for my bag. Cautiously I walk down to the bag, looking in every direction to make sure there are no zombies. I carefully bend down and pick up the bag. I take a few steps back without turning around. The cafeteria is on the upper level, which means I have to go up the stairs yet again and risk coming face-to-face with that zombie. The cold from the metal railing sends a shiver through my body as I slide my hands up it. I try to step as softly as I can while going up the stairs. The last thing I want is to alert that zombie and have it jump me from above. So I make my way up as quietly as I can, crouching down so my whole body isn't exposed as I reached the last few steps. My eyes peer over the edge, scanning for any movement. Nothing yet. Slowly, I crawl closer, staying close to the wall. I peak around the corner. Quiet. I straighten up and walk down the hall, caution but with renewed vigour. No use creeping around at a slow pace, the sooner I get to the cafeteria, the sooner I can get the hell out of this place. I reach the double doors of the cafeteria. The one door is slightly off its hinges forcing it open. My eyes shift to red. There's dark blood smears on the doors, they've not dried yet. I move my back against to wall again, trying to see inside the cafeteria. But the angle of the door makes it hard to properly see inside. Only the corner with a few tables and chairs were exposed to me. I sigh internally. I really need to get in here. If I have to face this zombie then so be it.

And if it rips me apart?

I wince.

But I need to get food.

I rub the back of my neck. It's either starve to death or possible death by flesh eating monster. Before… before everything went to shit, we had some combat training. Standard during a zombie apocalypse where you have only yourself to depend on. I could take this thing on. I could but I'm pretty sure I'm 100 % running on adrenaline. I don't know if I have the strength to fight this thing again. My stomach is empty, I'm slightly dizzy, and my hearts pounding like it's trying to break out of my chest. My energy is waning and there's no telling when I will get to the town and if I have to walk all the way there I don't believe I would even make it half way.

My face makes it past the door first, taking in the appearance of the room. Then, my shoulders and upper body follows, my eyes never shifting away. I slide the rest of my body through the opening. There's no sign of that zombie yet. I walk in further, careful not to make any noise. There are not much in the cafeteria save for tables, chairs and a few serving trays on the tables and floors. I make my way behind the metal counters. The serving area and kitchen is separated by a metal door, of which said door is wide open. Upon reaching the serving counter, I find that everything is clean, too clean. There are no foods in any of the trays. Not even rotten food or remnants of food. It looks like it's been emptied and cleaned. Clattering of metal cans rip me from my contemplation and my head whips around to lock eyes with dead iridescent looking ones. It feels like the world around me slowed down for that split second upon seeing it. But as soon as I recognise realization in its face I turn on my heel and sprint, almost slipping on the tiles as I round to corner of the counter. I'm almost at the door when I realize, I can leave yet. In a second I duck down and turn around, pressing my hands to the floor to push my body back in the other direction. This causes the zombie to harshly collide with the door. I won't leave here with nothing. I jump up on one of the long tables, trying to look for anything I could possibly use as a weapon. Nothing, fuck. The zombie claws at my legs as it reaches the table, almost knocking me off my feet. I run over the table to get back to the serving counters, failing to catch a rogue serving tray on the edge. The instant I step on it, it slides, throwing my body down with a hard thud and knocking the air frim my lungs. I tumble off the table and fall to the floor but there's no time to even consider what happened as the creatures hands are grasping towards me almost catching my hair in its fingers. Jerking my body back and rolling under the tables on the other side. Still begging for air to return, I claw my way out under the table and getting to my feet to once again run for the door. YOU CAN'T LEAVE YET! My voice screams in my head. I press against the closed one of the doors, bracing my hands against it. I take a deep breath, waiting for the zombie to get close enough. When it reaches for me I curl my fingers into a fist, turning around and swinging, hitting it against its left eye bank. The force of the punch was enough to have the zombie stuttering backward. Taking this temporary stun, I sweep my heel under its feet, successfully bringing the zombie to the ground. In an instant I'm on top, pulling it over to press its chest to the floor. I drop my ass to sit on top of the zombie's upper back, legs caging it on either side and boots trapping its arms under them. My hands reach for the zombie's face, fingers curling in its upper jaw. Its feels disgusting but I need somewhere to properly hold. And I pull, with all the strength I have left and despite the exhaustion that pulses through my being, I pull. Heaving and groaning as I press my heels down even harder and pulling its head towards me.

It starts with a silent crack, then two, and then more. Cracking, snapping, gurgling. There's a loud snap and my form launches backwards. Disoriented, my fingers let go and a weight rolls off my chest. Lifting my head and propping myself up on my forearms, I take in the scene before me. The zombie lays before me, lifeless and unmoving. Half of its head rolling away on my left side. There's blood on my hands and flesh under my finger nails. It takes me a few minutes to regain myself and this time I have nothing left. My whole body aches and it takes everything in me to pull to my feet. When I eventually do, I have to force my body into the kitchen. There better not be any more zombies in here. I move through the kitchen to the canteen, all the canned foods should be in here. A fuzziness creeps into my peripherals and my mind starts spinning. I brace my hands against the shelves, trying to scan them for what I'm looking for. Corn, beans, spaghetti in tomato sauce… Just as I reach out and take a can, a weightlessness shifts to the back of my brain and everything goes black.