Just a weekly zombie story ive been wanting to experiment with for awhile. Cautiously he stepped forward, his worn out and stained ipath skate shoe pushing down the worn out fence as he went over making a loud snap of rotten wood cracking, instinctivly flinching even though he knew there weren't any of them around. He had stood at the edge of the woods for nearly twenty minutes staring at the large farmhouse atop the hill. Colorodo's mountains rising behind the house with the still early morning sun made it almost easy to forget the horror of the past four months for a minute. He could only imagine what his family would think if they saw him now, jeans stained in mud and blood, raggedy drugrug, fleece and jacket all ripped and stained in some way or another. He tried to maintain, to remember. Grasping the wirewrap from his brother he wore around his neck he tried to remember their faces. Blinking back tears he pulled the strap on his camelbak tighter and tied his dreads up in a bun, he needed to be strong. Pulling on his thick brown leather working gloves he took in a deep breath and started walking along the edge of the woods, he couldn't stop himself from pulling the iron crowbar from its strap on his backpack and patting the small tomahawk on his belt. Slowly ascending the hill by the woods he could start to make out the other side of the farm, several acres of corn and three silos sitting by a large red barn and another small house. From this view he could start to see the other side of the farmhouse, a balcony that stretched along the entire second floor of the house. Deciding to check out the smaller farmhouse first he kept going along the woods down the other side of the hill. As he got to the bottom he noticed a stone paved trail that led to what looked like a rock well thirty feet into the woods. Stepping carefully into the woods he could start to make out the sound of water splashing coming from the well. Creeping up to the bass of the foundation he could make out blood smeared over the rim. Peeking his head above the top he couldn't make anything out through the darkness so he grabbed his LED flashlight from his coat pocket and stood shining the light down fourty feet to two rotting corpses struggling to stay afloat. Both immidietly began to moan but being half submerged couldn't manage to alert any nearby. Hopefully. But this new evidence meant the farm was likely tainted, was it worth the risk? He had enough slim jims and canned ravioli for a couple more days but his head told him to at least check the situation at the smaller farmhouse, perhaps there was a gun.. But he would settle for food too, he could outrun these fuckers. Pulling his brass knuckles from his coat pocket to slip on as a last resort he took his crowbar in both hands and ran up to the farmhouse keeping close to the ground, peeking up through the first window into what appeared to be a living room he couldnt make out anything substantial, sneaking around the next corner he found a door with a glass window in the center leading into the room he just saw. Trying the door he found it unlocked and carefully pushed it open letting out a creak of unoiled hinges. He stepped inside, his crowbar grasped tightly in his hands, he took another step inside and peered around a corner leading to his right and a cracked door. Opting to check the living room first he kept going straight, stopping everytime the floorboard creaked with age. The living room had a nice family appeal to it, a couch and chair where they would sit and watch the tv above the fireplace, it was the door that exited on the other side of the room that bothered him, the shadow of someone standing on the other side... Tentatily he called out softly.. Nothing.. Crash! The door shook and a long deep moan erupted from the other side of the door, he nearly fell back in shock but hit something behind him sending it to the ground. Spinning around he gasped as a rotting women stood back up and took a eager step towards him, raising the crowbar baseball style he swung for gold sending the ghoul into a table in the corner. Crack! The doorframe started to splinter and now he could hear another moan in the back of the house, darting out the door the way he came he ran right into another shambeling figure sending them both spawling to the ground and the breath flying from his lungs. Desperatly he turned over and kicked into the stomach of the corpse keeping it away as it tried to grab him, giving one big kick the beast tottered backwards before coming back once again meeting another kick to the stomach and a blow of iron to the head. Slowly standing back up he was just getting his breath back when he heard the crash of the door inside giving, taking a couple steps back to wait it was just another curse when three shambeling undead stumbled out the door. Cursing his luck he set off at a slow jog headed back up the hill towards the larger farmhouse, he didn't care about the food anymore he just wanted a victory. Racing up the porch steps he grabbed the door handle and swung the front door open exposing his nose to the smell of rottin flesh. Moans came from multiple closed doors on the first floor hinting at least at a half dozen of the undead not to mention the three following. Running up the stairs two at a time he flew down the hallway kicking the wooden door off its hinges and into a corpse standing in the front of the room, stopping momentarily to cave its head in with one good miners swing he stepped over the now official corpse and opened the doors onto the balcony. A red truck sat parked right next to the balcony and who knew if it even had the keys in it, but he wasn't done yet, returning to the stairs a solid dozen undead turned their rotting eyes unto him and began to crawl up the steps. Pulling an old empty fifth of ezra from his satchel he lit its rag with his lighter and threw it into the wall halfway up the stairs. The carpet and wall immieditly caught and the mob of putrid flesh followed as they crawled through the spreading flames. Walking back down the hallway he couldn't place quite how he felt about this whole event, in a way he felt good for having taken a vengence upon the undead army but he knew there were millions, if not billions of these things now. Anything he did was miniscule in the grand scheme of things. Leaping over the rail and onto the roof of the truck he slid off onto the grass and climbed into the beatup old maroon chevy to find the keys right in the ignition, starting her up to find a full tank of gas was the bonus. Putting her in drive and driving down the long dirt driveway he only looked in the rearview once to the sight of a few ghouls falling over the balcony still burning, with a genuine chuckle he turned onto the road and kept truckin'.