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Have you ever reached that point to where you just don't give a shit? If you have then you'll understand why I do what I do. It's really the urge more than anything.

I guess I should start from the beginning so that you'll really understand why. I was your normal everyday Joe before the "Plague" broke out. Hell most everyone was. I got up every morning and went to work, came home and enjoyed my quiet suburban lifestyle. I had a beautiful wife, two great kids, nice house, 2 nice cars, and satellite TV. What more could a man ask for. A little barbecue and beer on the weekend, I couldn't complain.

Then those beurocratic a-holes at NASA decided, in an effort to save money, to try and recover the Venus probe rather than destroy it in space. They knew all to well that there were potential dangers, they just felt they could contain the problem. Well needless to say, they most certainly did not contain the problem. After just a few weeks, the living were of the minority, the walking dead had all but taken over.

I remember when they declared Marshall Law. We packed up a few belongings and headed to the rescue station like good little citizens. I probably would have felt more comfortable about my family's safety at my own home. The rescue station was ridiculous. There were so many people packed into that tiny school gymnasium I felt like a sardine. The normal human sickness spread like wildfire. Before long we all had the flu. Sanitation was unheard of. There wasn't enough water, or food, or soap, or towels for everyone. Life was downright miserable at the rescue station.

Inevitably, before long the defense of the station fell and it was overrun by the undead. I remember how my family went so vividly. My wife was the first to get attacked. The dead broke into the facility looking for their next meal of warm human flesh. This of course set off a panic of everyone inside. Everyone running in every direction. Grown men and women trampling children to get away. Kids standing alone screaming and crying for their parents from whom they were separated. By this time I had no concern for anyone other than my family. We were holding hands, all of us. First me, then my daughter, then my son, and my wife, she was in the back of the line. We were swiftly moving through the crowd of living and dead, trying to make it to the back exit, I felt it was probably the safest way out due to the hoard of dead entering through the front. I looked back every few seconds to make sure my wife and kids were still all accounted for. I can still remember that sinking feeling when I looked back and realized that my wife of 9 years was no longer part of our chain of hands. I could see the frightened look on my son's eyes and I knew right then what had happened.

I stopped, picked up both my children and ran back the way we had come. I found my wife crying in pain as she kicked and pulled with her arms, while one zombie was devouring her leg and another beginning to work on her chest and abdomen. I had to swallow every bit of raw emotion I could handle and simply turn and run away. I knew there was no saving her. I could hear her crying my name in a voice that reflected more pain than I had ever heard in my life. My children were in my arms both screaming mommy, mommy, please don't leave mommy. I ran, I just simply ran as hard as I could. My face was soaked in tears, and I felt myself starting to give out. I reached the back door of the gym, put my children down and pushed the door to go out and the damn thing was locked. So here we are stuck in the damn gym full of zombies and people who will soon be zombies.

I looked up and saw what I knew would be the end for my children and myself. The pack of zombies attacked us before I could hardly react. I grabbed both my children only to have them ripped from my arms. Nothing could have ever prepared me for the pain that I felt as I watched and listened to my children cry and scream in pain as their little bodies were ripped limb from limb. With them being so small, it wasn't very hard for the zombies to take them apart. Me however was a different story. The simply chewed me up.

When I awoke, the pain was gone. No longer was the burning in my legs, the searing pain in my arms, or the warm rush of wetness around my throat. I knew I was awake, I could see the ceiling of the gym. I tried to push myself up off my back into a seated position, but for some reason, it was extremely difficult. I felt as if I had just gone twelve rounds with Evander Holyfield. Everything was stiff, my arms, legs, neck, back, even my fingers and toes didn't want to move. I tried to call for help but my damn vocal chords didn't want to work either. As I called out, all I heard coming from my body was an eerie moan. I had heard this sound before, but I wasn't quite sure where.

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