The Dead


One year. One long year of suffering. Fighting against… them.

The dead, walking. Eating. Eating the living, destroying all that we know. But I survived, along with my friend, Anjali. Other guys, though, didn’t live more than three months. I’m the last living in this hell hole of a world.

I load my gun, and look back, towards Anjali. She nods, giving me the okay to go in. I knock, no sound comes from inside. I knock harder, and a bang comes from the upstairs. We look up, just as a walker flies out from a shattered window.

“Ah!” Anjali screeches as it lands almost a foot away, snapping its jaws and reaching for her. It was an old one, the skin decaying horribly, sending off a terrible stench, making me wrinkle my nose in disgust. I walk to it, pulling a knife from my boot, and shoving it halfway through its skull.

I smiled, happy it was only one, but happiness never lasts long.

“Turn around!” Anjali yells, her eyes wide with fright. I turn quickly, only to find more than a dozen or so walkers slowly closing the distance between us. I mentally counted our ammo, “Not enough ammo, we gotta run!” I shout, grabbing her arm and pulling.

“But! What about the house? We didn’t raid it yet!” she yells, trying to stay with me. I shake my head, my hair whipping around, “We’ll come back later! I don’t plan on leaving another house unchecked!” I yelled, kicking a walker from in front of me.

We ran longer, and I looked behind us. The hoard had multiplied, and somehow looked closer than ever. They were not just walking, it was more quicker than just walk.

“More behind, and there are closing in!” Anjali tells me, and I give out a small huff. We ran faster, and I didn’t see the walker laying on the ground. The one Anjali was headed right for!

“Oh my what?!” she yelled, tripping over it and landing on its stomach.

The thing moaned, and I stopped running, only to watch in horror as it bites into Anjali’s shoulder, ripping out a large chunk of flesh.

“Ahhhhhh!!!” Anjali screamed. No!!!” I roared, shooting the walkers near me, their bodies dropping like a brick, finishing the ammo with a shot to Anjali’s attacker. I grab her, and sling her across my back, ignoring the sickly large amount of blood staining my jacket. I take off, running through the woods, losing the pack of man eating… things, my brain finished the sentence for me.

I rip my way through the trees, the hoards moans and shambling slipping from my hearings range. A grey mansion came into view. I don’t hesitate, running full speed for it. I kick the rotting door, and it opens with a bang. No crash, meaning there’s nothing in here to hurt us. I run to an old couch to my left, and set Anjali on it, trying not to hurt her more.

I look at Anjali’s face, knowing she’ll turn soon into those living deads, but not wanting to end her life prematurely. I pace, and she groans in pain. We dropped all our supplies at the house, and I had no idea how long I was running or where.

“Hang in there, Anjali, I’m gonna take you upstairs.” I say, picking her up slowly.

Every step equaled excruciating pain for her, even when I went slow. “… please… I-it hurts…”, Anjali said between fits of coughs.

Her eyes squeezed shut in pain. I felt like I was gonna cry. Turns out, I already was.

“I- it’s… gonna be o-okay…” I say between sniffs. I knew we both knew it wouldn’t be, and this truth hurt deeply. I would have to kill her, but not while she was still… her. Not now. I just need a little longer, but I didn’t have much time. I found a bedroom with an old, dusty and rotting mattress. There was even a moth-eaten blanket.

Score! I thought, setting Anjali on the mattress and covering her with the blanket. I barley reached her shins.

… tell me a story…” Anjali sputters, blood splattering her chin lightly. I think I’m gonna be sick.

“Okay. What one?” I ask, trying to suck it up and be strong. It wasn’t working to well. “Before… all this…” she says weakly, more blood painting her chin. I wipe it away, feeling more like a mother than her best friend. I smile, knowing what story she really wanted. When all of this is over, and the world becomes… alive, my brain suggests.

I take a deep breath, and begin the story.


About Shabab Khan

A Journalist, Philanthropist; Author of 'The Magician', 'Go!', 'Brutal'. Being a passionate writer, I am into Journalism and writing columns, news stories, articles for top media houses. Twitter Handle:@khantastix
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1 Response to The Dead

  1. Great going Shabab… nice story!!!


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