Slightly Drunk Writings: Zombie-Style

James stretched wearily and rubbed the Sandman's work from his eyes, depositing it on his jeans. After another drawn-out and vocal stretch, he opened his eyes.

The television had lulled him to sleep on the sofa once again. Still half blind, he made his way towards the cramped shower room and toilet, bowling through his amassed beer cans. From the sound of it, it was a strike.

James splashed water on his face and finally managed to fully summon his sense of sight. Grabbing the razor from the sink, he contemplated shaving for a moment and then returned the razor to its original position amongst the grime. He figured he had another couple of day's growth before shaving was required.

He ruffled his hair a little in the mirror. He was already impressed with its unkempt look, so little effort was required today. He sniffed at the underarms of his t-shirt and brushed off unnaturally orange crumbs of something he could not remember eating. Snatching a can of deodorant from the table beside the sink, he sprayed a sufficient amount of it all around himself from top to bottom. The shirt would do for another day. Perhaps it would do for the entire week.

Exiting the bathroom he steered the spilled cans off of the highly worn path to and from the sofa with his foot and sat back down. He fished a mobile phone from his overly-tight jeans pocket and stabbed at a button, illuminating the back panel.

8:27.

Three minutes and then he would leave. It was the last thing he wanted to do. The horror outside was something he never wanted to face, but he had to. Food was running low, and "“perhaps more importantly -- so was the beer. He slapped the sofa cushion and the television remote leapt obediently closer to him. One more hit and it was in his hand. He flicked quickly through the channels. Nothing. Nothing. More nothing. It was always nothing these days.

His phone buzzed, alerting him that the three minutes had already crept by. He stood up sharply and readied himself for action. He was straight to the door; he lifted his jacket from the hook beside it, slipped it on and exited.

He moved swiftly along the corridor, checking periodically that nobody was following him, but never once slowing down until he reached the elevator doors. He jabbed a knuckle into the "˜call elevator' button and waited nervously. He had attacked the button four more times before he heard the approaching hum of the elevator. As the doors began to slide open he closed his eyes and mentally crossed his fingers. As the doors clunked fully open, he took a peek.

God damn it, he thought. There was a small pool of blood on the floor, it was possibly already dry, but James did not feel like checking. Someone had also defecated in the elevator. It looked and smelled surprisingly fresh. Animals, he thought. James reluctantly stepped inside and instructed the elevator to head to the ground level. He wondered what delights awaited him down there.

And so he rode the elevator all the way to the ground floor. He did not make conversation with either the faeces or the blood. The doors clunked once more, and James exited as quickly as he could. He had decided half-way down that he would make a dash for the main entrance as soon as those doors would allow him. Travelling as fast as he could without breaking into a jog, he could see the exit ahead of him. It seemed so far away, and in between there could be so many Dark things lurking in the shadows.

He swore under his breath as a growing sense of panic overcame him. Damn, damn, damn! He was not going to make it; they would emerge from the depths of hell and drag him down into their Dark world. Screw it, he decided. He ran as fast as he could towards the door. Their demonic whispers became louder, their claws scratching menacingly at the concrete floor; it set James's teeth on edge. As his heart beat faster, so did the drums of the horde. Bang, bang, bang! Bang, bang, bang! The light outside the doors seemed to fade, as if the sun itself was afraid of the creatures lurking inside. Oh that's fine. You just save yourself, Sun, James chided it.

As he conversed with the Sun inside his head, he felt his foot snag on something. His heart jumped. For a moment it seemed as if time itself had almost ground to a halt. Even the sound of the horde grew duller for that moment. Then his face met the door with such force that he managed to continue on through it before landing on the paving slab outside.

James had no time to decide whether he was injured or not, he kept going. Now that he had made it outside he headed for the car park. He never knew whether his car would still be there, but it was his only hope. It had to be there.

Now out in the light, a good distance away from the building, he brushed himself down and resettled his clothes as he walked, still at a fair pace. As he neared the car park he thought he could see the tiny hatchback where he had left it, but he dared not believe it completely until he was inside. As he got closer he could see that the boxy red car was in around the same state as when he had left it last -- a good sign that this was indeed his car.

James let out a huge sigh of relief as he settled down into the battered faux-leather seat. His one life-line was still here and still in one piece. He checked the backseats for anything that might have made its way into the car overnight. Finding none, he put the key in the ignition and started the car. It choked a little, but eventually came to life.

He drove calmly. He was in his protective box now, and his protective box could go at sixty miles per hour if he needed it to. Not strictly legal, but nobody cared about legality these days. There was Good and there was Evil. It was that simple.

As he drove, he kept his sight locked ahead. The less he saw of what was at the side of the road the better. Creatures lined the roadsides. They scuttled along, not interacting in any way. They rarely even looked at each other and there was an obvious air of contempt amongst them.

The Darkness inside them commanded. It was strong and omnipotent, but it was waiting. James did not know what for, but he was grateful for whatever was holding it back.

Occasionally he would spot someone in the crowd that he felt he connected with in some way. While doing their best to fit in with the creatures, it was as if they had an aura of Light around them. While there was no literal aura -- James prided himself on not being completely insane -- it was as if a sixth sense allowed him to spot those that did not belong.

Today he saw one of them. She was surrounded by the Dark ones and her face was locked in a mixed state of fear and hatred, yet deep down, James knew she was not of them. She was blending in. James felt incredibly fortunate to have his car. To be out amongst them -- the very thought of it -- chilled his spine. He was overcome with a sense of admiration and respect for her. The thought of stopping and helping her crossed his mind suddenly, but was gone just as fast. It was a ridiculous notion.

She would not accept help from him and he knew it. While he had a sense that directed him to those of Light, he himself was most definitely one of the creatures he so feared.

James clicked the indicator down and pulled right into the supermarket car park. It had once been a glorious hub of activity. People would shop, talk, and generally enjoy themselves. There was no chance of that now. The Darkness did not allow such things. Now it was simply Tesco.

James grabbed his gym-bag from under the passenger seat and locked the car. Slinging the bag casually over his shoulder, he tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He kept his head down and just walked. As long as he did not make too big a ripple he would be okay. He headed for the sliding doors and they hissed open as they sensed him coming.

"You're two minutes late!" said Gerald the store manager.

"It won't happen again, boss," James promised. It always happened again.