The Battle

“Yes!” You shout back at Chris. In a fit of despair, you grab a nearby 2x4 and you begin swinging hard. Bashing heads left and right, you scream like a Viking Berserker swinging a battle ax in the middle of an epic battle against the Saxons. With every swing, a head explodes. You feel alive. You are your true self. But before you know it, you're in the middle of the herd, swinging in a counter-clockwise motion, bashing everyone that gets 4 feet from you.

Zombies are falling down; tripping over each other, as you keep swinging, keep clearing the path towards your goal. You see the bar, it's only a hundred yards away and you know you can make. You swing harder, faster, you keep screaming as you keep bash the heads of these zombies like Gallager with watermelons. The bar is closer, the zombies are deader and you MAKE IT!! You get to the bar, you pull on the handle and it’s LOCKED!!!

“Who on Earth locks the freaking door to a pub during a zombie apacolypse?” You ask yourself. “Seriously, what does a guy have to do to get a freakin beer?” You hear a scream and you look over and see Chris is being devoured by zombies. “That sucks.” You think to yourself.

At first you think about helping, but you can see the kegs through the window and decide to forget him, he's zombie food now. You take the 2x4 and you smash the window open and crawl into the pub. It still dingy and stale, but you don't care. You walk over to the bar, grab a mug and pull on a tap to pour yourself a nice luke warm porter....but no pressure. Your heart sinks as you look up and see the dead getting through the window and begin to advance towards you.

THE END