Zombies! (Episode 4): The Sick and the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

outside and a thump against the door. He practically crapped himself right there. Grabbing up the nearest thing that he could use as a weapon, a bent whiffle bat, he went to the door and opened it. Peter lived in a studio apartment that was part of a house on Staten Island. His door led out to the side driveway. He could exit and turn left, which would take him to the street or exit and turn right, which would take him into the backyard. There was no sunlight. Cool night air blew in and stirred his matted hair and grimy face. There was no one there.
     
    Timidly, he stepped outside and looked both ways. The only light came from inside his apartment and a streetlight down the drive and across the road. Huddled by the window, playing with the catch, was a man in a dark blue jacket. He looked up quickly when he caught wind of Peter and all the poor young doctor could see was the ghoulish skin and sunken eyes. And the teeth. Screaming, Peter dropped the bat and ran back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him. He turned the lock, fixed the deadbolt, and sank to the floor weeping.
     
    So it was over. It was all over. This was the end of the world.
     
    His first thought was to get back to his plans. Maybe it wasn’t too late. They were good plans. Get some food. Get some weapons. Dig in. Wait. Wait. Wait.
     
    What would he be waiting for?
     
    Did he really have what it took to survive the end of the world? He doubted it. Maybe in the daylight, he would just go out and find a nice easy way to kill himself. But if he was going to do that, then he wanted to be clean and shaved. It was important to be presentable when facing one's death. So he pulled a heavy piece of furniture in front of the door, another piece in front of the one window that looked out of his apartment, and went in for a shower.
     
    In Peter’s state, he didn’t stop to think about the fact that he had hot and cold running water, a working toilet, and electricity. He didn’t consider the origin of the gas that came from his stove as he heated up a can of soup. He didn’t turn on the television because he was afraid of what he might see, but he wouldn’t have seen much. A week into the panic and the television stations were already growing tired of the stories. They’d started running their regular programming again, trying to win back the confidence of their sponsors.
     
    He didn't sleep much that night. He stayed awake with the lights off and a long knife in his hands, terrified of the silence but more so of the noise. He heard a car go by every once in a while outside and wondered about the other survivors. Were they scavenging? Why at night? It didn't really matter. He didn't consider himself a survivor. From his perspective, he was just someone whose luck was simply going to run out.
     
    As the dawn's light began to filter through uncovered portion of the window, he began to regain control of his senses. He waited a good long time for the full light of day to surface before clearing the window. Looking outside, he could see nothing. His window faced the side drive so all he had was a good view of the house across the way. If he'd been at all in a state of mind to be observant, he might have noticed the fresh newspaper sitting in front of the neighbor's side door. Still, he pushed the table away from the door and undid the bolt and the lock. With a deep breath he opened it, fully expecting to see the zombie from the night before waiting patiently for its breakfast. But the way was clear.
     
    It was a chilly morning but not cold enough to compete with the blood rushing through his veins. His landlord's car was gone, the house dark. Had he up and left the city like so many others? Brandishing the knife, he went to the window, the one with which the zombie had been tampering the night before. There were some metal shavings along the ledge and the screws on either side were a bit chewed up. The zombie had been trying to get in. Apparently, the