I was the fastest, they said.
In a matter of seconds I could make three of them fall on the ground.
They said I was silent.
I moved my body in the dark and I would catch my prey just making my gun sing.
‘I’m not the only one’ I would, then, say.
Everyone was there to fight those dangerous zombies and save the country.
I didn’t like to take all the merit, though I knew I was the best. Only the previous day, a young man died by one of those monsters. He was only 24.
Barbaric, violent, without any spark of humanity attacking civilization, rationality, order.
It was hard but they were winning. Just like he heard, he always pointed the gun toward the brain through the head, and when he couldn’t, the face.
No other points. He was really precise.
As the day of the final battle arrived, he made a motivational discourse to his men and, then, launched himself against the enemies.
Blood was soon painting everything. Screams, loud noises, confusion. Dead bodies laid on the ground, lifelessy. The sky was dark and high shadows of sparkling fire was reaching it.
But the war was going on.
In the middle of Hell I heard, then, a faint voice. I don’t know how I but I instinctively knew it was calling me. It was a zombie that seemed around my age. It looked like he was almost dead.
I asked myself the reason why I never realized they could speak.
It called me again in plea and I went to it. The zombie handed me a little mirror with a photo inside.
“Give it back to my wife, please. Tell her that I love her and that I’m sorry”
I asked myself how could zombies have families and, in the moment I did, it died. I just appeared surprised.
I looked at the photo then. A beautiful woman was smiling on the other side. Before I could ask myself anything else, I looked into the other side of the mirror.
There was a zombie.
The moment I realised the terrific truth, I fell on the cold ground, hot blood coming out of my head.
I am a –
“I guess soldiers must repeat to themselves they’re going hunting zombies to have their conscience clean”