Infection Essay

1221 Words 5 Pages
Infection – Part 1
I lay on my side in slight pain. I rolled onto my top side, and opened my eyes. Everything was out of focus and a massive blur. Like an out of focus video camera. Within a few moments, everything comes into focus. It wasn’t like I was missing anything. Nearly the entire furnace room was as black as night, save for a flickering light bulb. Unaware of what was truly going on, I stumbled out of the furnace room. The house was silent. Confused, I hurried up the stairs into the kitchen. Everything was locked up. The blinds were shut. That didn’t make sense; it was only 1 PM according to my watch. I called out, hoping in vain for a response. Nothing but the whistle of air replied. Walking into the living room, I seized the
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Next, TSN, and another test pattern lays in wait. Thirty channel changes later, I was greeted with absolutely nothing but test patterns. Angrily, I shut the TV off and hurled the channel changer onto the couch. I began thinking to myself.
So, the Goddamn Zombie Apocalypse is happening. Guess it’s time to kick some ass. I walked back through the living room, into the kitchen, and back into the basement. Dead silence filled the tension-filled air as I walked down into the basement. First, I opened up the garage, and what might have been the Lotto Max $50 million dollar jackpot winnings lay before me; a Remington 870 pump action shotgun with enough ammunition to invade a small Alaskan island, a machete that could decapitate zombie body parts with ease, a Desert Eagle with crates of ammunition, and thirty pipe bombs. With joy, I grabbed a backpack and began filling it. When I was finished, it felt like I was carrying bricks on my back. But it still felt light in a way. Probably the adrenaline was causing it. These items would become very beneficial. Especially my expertise in zombie killing, coming from all those hours of playing Left 4 Dead 2 and Doom 3.
Suddenly, the doorbell to my house rang. My blood froze. I raised my Desert Eagle into the ready position as I inched up the basement stairs. Stepping into the kitchen, the doorbell rang menacingly once again. At a snail’s pace, I crouched and walked through the living room into the main entrance room. I

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