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Now I am alone, going insane, climbing the walls. J.R. Fazen Middle School, my own personal Hell. After the gang was massacred Nils and I ran here. At first we were only going to stay long enough to form some sort of plan, but the hundreds of zombies outside kind of prevented us from leaving. We locked and barricaded all the doors before we cleaned all of them out of the inside. That's when Nils died. We were going through and cutting them all down when one that he thought he had killed bit the back of his ankle. He fell down screaming as the thing proceeded to tear up his lower leg before I killed it, took the top of its head off with a machete. I did all I could for Nils, but it took him all the same. He died, and in a few days came back. I cut his head off. I cut the head off of the man who once saved my life, my only friend. Now I am alone here. The ceaseless banging and scratching outside is enough to make me suicidal. My only entertainment is a Playboy I found in the Principal's "CONFISCATED" drawer, but even that is getting old after this long.

One day as I heated up yet another frozen chicken patty and choked it down and decided it was time to leave. I had no idea where to go or how to get there, but I could not stay in that goddamn place any longer, even if it meant dying. The only problem was the hundreds of zombies milling around outside. I faced the grim reality that the only way to get them spread out enough for me to charge through would be to let them all in, and fight my way out.

It would be rough, even though I was heavily armed. Too bad there were no bullets left to make guns useful. All I had were two machetes, a short-handled battle-ax, a spiked chain mace, a 10-inch dagger and a few dozen small throwing knives. I was a big guy too; 6'10" and about 330 pounds. But I was probably more like 290 or 300 by then, that goddamn school food was killing me. My head was shaved bald, and my face and body were heavily scarred from what happened when we raided the shopping mall. I wore a dark navy blue S.W.A.T. team uniform. I was pretty trusty with a machete in each hand, one of the best killers there was, but no man could survive a run-in with too many of them in a small area. If they're spread out enough you can just plow your way through since they're so slow. Occasionally one will grab you and all you'll have to do is hack at it until you can get away...but this is what can get you into serious trouble. Sometimes a man will get caught up in killing the damn things when he should be doing his damndest to just get the hell away from them. Standing still for too long gets you killed.

I was to let them in the next day.

I could hear them. They were all around me, scratching. If felt as if they were standing right next to me. I had opened the doors and ran down to the basement as fast as I could, I didn't want any of them to follow me. All I could do then was wait for the best chance to run. I couldn't look out to see how spaced out they were because I would probably be seen. All I could do was hope that when I jumped out that I could make it through the long hallway to the emergency exit at the other end. It would surely be safer outside than in, there would be much more space to run out there. As well as I could handle myself around those damn things; this was going to be a real test. Not only was the hall narrow and long, but also I hadn't gone up against one of those things in nearly a year. I couldn't wait any longer.

I kicked down the door and paused for the slightest moment to observe before I sprinted down the hall. One of the things came near me and I gave it my shoulder, cracking a few of its ribs. I was going to make it, I knew it. Two of them were right in the way of the heavy double-doors. They received matching machetes to the forehead.

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