Mac & I

031211

  Mac and I have known each other for a long time. Long before our colleagues began hungering for the other white meat. Long before the streets were awash with the blood of our townsfolk. Long before the dead were rising from the ground in an eye-rolling cliché and began eating people. We’d been friends for years.

  We used to spend evenings playing rock band until the neighbours banged on the floor. We used to play robot-dentist as we reached inside impossibly small openings with impossibly small tools to try and fix impossibly broken machines and dig around until we managed to or broke it for good. We entertained ourselves through poor foreign horror and cheap microwave popcorn. We dabbled in World of Warcraft and complained about how it wasn’t as good as Diablo II – back in the day. We didn’t have a day, not yet, our day was now, and I’ll be damned if we lose it to flesh eating shuffling groaning hunks of meat that should be long dead.

  We reach my apartment and the guys keep the hoard we’ve accumulated at bay with the weapons as I struggle with the keys. I can’t hear anything from the hallway inside which can only be a good thing, right? I sate myself with such thoughts, take three deep breaths and pretend I’m simply coming home from a shift. The longest shift is still to come.

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~ by Joseph Blame on March 12, 2011.

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