Self Control

Old Clock TowerThe old French town had seen better days, and as Jean picked his way carefully over the rubble he wondered if he would ever see those days return. Dropping to his knees alongside an overturned and burnt out car, he scanned the town square for sign of movement. His gut screamed at him to keep going, but his brain, in calm control, forced the fear down. Hasty action resulted in death these days, he had seen it countless times, had watched the fear overtake people’s minds, driving them to flee, to fight, to make fast, stupid decisions.

He stayed silent and still for several more seconds, before finally, with agonizing deliberation and slowness, set off across the square, staying close to the larger chunks of debris and scanning the dark, empty store fronts and doorways, as he made his way toward the base of the clock tower.

He approached cautiously, reaching out with one hand to test the handle, while pointing his small revolver at head height at the door frame. Twisting the handle he pushed, only to knock the door against the dead bolt in place. “Dammit” he exclaimed as he turned back to look out across the square, trying to locate another suitable location to hide for the night.

As he looked around he heard a loud wooden creak from above, looking up with wide eyes, he watched as the top floor window splintered outwards, showering a cloud of glass and wooden splinters around a dark figure of a man as he stepped out into the void above Jean. Throwing himself into the door, he tried to press himself backward as the figure hurtled toward him. With a sickening crunch the man slammed into the ground, dragging his face down along Jean’s leg, shredding muscle and leaving teeth and fragments of bone imbedded into Jean’s outstretched leg.

Screaming in pain and panic Jean fired wildly as the disfigured man, began to pull himself up with jerky sporadic movements, before slumping back to the ground as the bullets shattered what remained of his skull. “NO!” Jean screamed as he looked at his torn and bleeding leg and at the now still zombie lying in front of him. “NO! NO!” He screamed again, violently kicking the still body in a fit of rage and spraying dark black red blood across the floor. As the rage subsided Jean slid down the door in exhaustion and pain. As he sat there breathing deeply he heard a distant sound. He closed his eyes and swore as the low moans of a dozen zombies reached his ears. He looked up and could make out the first of them emerging from an alleyway, shambling toward him with hungry murder in its eyes. Jean looked at the approaching zombie, looked at his pistol, aimed and pulled the trigger.

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6 Responses to Self Control

  1. Ivora says:

    What a stupid way to go. =.=

    You would think a calm and cautious man would take better note of his surroundings.

  2. Third Coast Zed says:

    Quite nice – especially the ending. Leaves me wondering if he was aiming at the zombie, or himself.
    well done!

  3. JimmyBean says:

    I don’t know If I said it already but …This blog rocks! I gotta say, that I read a lot of blogs on a daily basis and for the most part, people lack substance but, I just wanted to make a quick comment to say I’m glad I found your blog. Thanks, 🙂

    A definite great read..Jim Bean

  4. ron osmundson says:

    nice story i like the part when you wonder is he going to survive. but zombie blood isnt red becuse the only organ a zombie needs is their brain so without there heart pumping their blood isnt red ( but the story was still great)

  5. Kali says:

    Just like waking up in the morning, put on ur favorite suit on for work, being extremely carefull spending the next 20 minutes trying not to mess up the ‘fresh and clean’ look u have on, and when u step out on the street heading to the bus stop a car speeds by and splashes the stagnant, smelling puddle of rain water on you shoulder to foot n drives off not caring, and u end up on a semi-lifegivingup-willkillthe nextpersonwhogivesmeshit mode

  6. Kali says:

    u get to work late from showering again n changing clothes n ur boss tells u ur LATE! Av never been late before and he seems to av forgotten the profit i worked overnight for i brought into that fookin company previous week. at this point u look at him n think (for 4 seconds) that you should by a gun. But instead u end up in your cubicle… counting down the day once again

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