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The air was thick, thick with the sweet smell of spoiled meat. It was not bad on the surface, but underneath at the end of every breath there it was, rotting meat, fetid sensations in and out of my nose every time I took a breath. How ever hard the wind blew, the heaviness of the air and its stink never lightened up. The air situation was the worst it could be. Even in here, the smells of what is on the move and out there and dying to get in here, no pun intended, as strong in the house as out there, there was no relief. The cries and wails and calling of the undead also never stopped. All night long, the undead piss and moan about getting in here. Twenty-four seven, they are yelling out their desires to get in here. Sometimes there are up to fifty of them out there, 'til something else lures some of them away from the periphery. But if they're here, they are making some kind of noise, and that does not include all of the banging and pounding on the outside walls. Now that I think about it, I think that it smells worse in here, it smells like shit and piss as well as the walking dead.

Me and dumb ass are stuck in this little place in the middle of a city that we didn't get out of in time and now it's too late. We've been out of food for some time now, and amongst several other problems, one of the worst is that we only have one bullet between the two of us. We both have the same kind of gun that the last bullet is for, a 45 caliber Ruger semi automatic. When we last opened fire on the dead, it was to retreat back into this place after a failed attempt to get out of here and to a place that had something to eat. They heard us taking down our barricades and preparing to come out. They heard dinner bells, the zombies were ready for us. We were low on ammo anyway before we started to leave and when we fired that there was no more to replace them with, but the zombies were right in our faces as soon as we tried to leave.

When we slammed the door behind us and were safe back inside, me and fuckhead came to the conclusion that we were now out of bullets. We knew we were done for, there was no hope at all, not even a bullet to take myself out in the end . Starvation was the order of the day, then we would come back as skinny zombies.

We both saw it at the same time! There on the floor next to the table leg was one bullet. I was passing him a puff of the last cigarette and it slipped out of his fingers and we both bent to pick it up since it was so precious a thing and there it was. We both lunged for it, he got it, and for the last week it has been a back and forth battle for the bullet.

I was so hungry, the place had no food what so ever, it was boarded up before all of this happened from being condemned and it is where retard led me for shelter in the pinch of the moment when we had our choice of which building to go into. This or a three story apartment or a gas station and this is where I will die in this shit hole of a final destination.

We both knew what the situation was and we knew that we each wanted the bullet to avoid starvation. It started off with me just out right snatching it away from him when he did not know that my interest was so high in who had it, so it was easy. He was talking about doing himself and set it down for a moment to take out the clip from his gun and I plucked it away. I had it for a day before he pushed me down on the ground when I wasn't looking and wrestled my gun out of my belt. He stood over me and threw me his gun. I was so hungry I just had to eat. I was so weak I could hardly fight back. Starving sucks and he knows it too, but he is the only one that can do anything about it for himself.

I stood up and went into another room, there was an empty box in the closet and the clothes hanger rod was leaning in the back corner, the rod was about three feet long and two inches around and light. I grabbed it.

"Holy shit, food! Hey, there is food back here! How could we miss that?"

I heard foot falls hurrying from the other room, he came around the corner with the gun in his hand but he was relaxed. I pointed into the closet and down at the box that he could not see from his changing angle as he came around the corner. He got in front of it and looked down.

Wham! Across his back a hard, stinging slap came from the thin pipe that I swung. The gun dropped and I scooped it up.

"Ha ha ha!" I reached into my pocket and dropped the empty gun at his feet. He bent down and picked it up and looked up at me as if to say good one there, that was a good one there. Yep. Then he tackled me at the waist and both guns went flying and we punched and kicked at each other until we were too tired to do any more.

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