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MidReal Story
The Survivor
Anonymous
Jul 11
Scenario:I, James E. Boyd, was walking down the street of Houston. As I walked to my house, which was a few minutes' walk away, I see blood on the ground, on the street. I was shocked. I called 911 but no-one answered. No service. So, I ran the few minutes home, and gladly so, as two people, who had bite marks on them, with blood all over them, were running at me as if they were zombies. I didn't know, at the time, that it was the start of the zombie apocalypse. I got home, locked and barricaded all doors and windows and grabbed my pocketknife, to protect myself. Then I remembered that I keep my guns, like my M16 and my USP in the master closest, in the gun safe. I grabbed them, a bullet proof vest, and my backpack, and I started grabbing supplies to shove into the backpack. Once I finally did, I raced out of the house, and the two zombies also raced at me too as I ran. I shoot both of them in the heads with my USP as I ran and realized that they only die if shot in the head, and more specifically, the brain stem.
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Chapter 1
I pulled up to the house and parked the car in the driveway.
It was a beautiful day outside, and I was happy to be home.
I got out of the car and walked up to the front door.
I reached for the doorknob, but it was already unlocked.
I opened the door and walked inside.
"Sarah? Michael?"
I called out, but there was no answer.
I walked into the living room and saw that the TV was on.
There was a news report about some kind of outbreak in downtown Houston.
I sat down on the couch and watched as they showed footage of people running through the streets, screaming and covered in blood.
The reporter said that it was some kind of virus that turned people into "zombies."
I laughed to myself and changed the channel.
This had to be some kind of joke, right?
Zombies weren’t real.
I got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen.
"Sarah? Michael?" I called out again, my voice echoing through the empty house.
The silence was unsettling.
I noticed a note stuck to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a sunflower.
It was hastily written in Sarah's handwriting: "James, took Michael to the store. Be back soon."
Relief washed over me momentarily, but it was quickly replaced by a gnawing anxiety.
The news report had rattled me more than I wanted to admit.
Just as I was about to head back to the living room, I heard a faint noise from upstairs.
It was barely audible, like a whisper or a soft thud.
My heart started pounding in my chest.
I reached into the drawer next to the sink and pulled out my USP.
The cold metal of the gun felt reassuring in my hand.
I moved cautiously towards the staircase, each step creaking under my weight.
The house seemed to close in around me, every shadow and corner suddenly menacing.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I saw a shadow move in Michael's room.
My breath caught in my throat.
I tightened my grip on the gun and slowly pushed the door open with my foot, keeping the barrel raised and ready.
The door swung open with a low groan, revealing a scene that made my blood run cold.
A bloodied figure was hunched over something on the floor, its shoulders heaving with labored breaths.
"Sarah?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
The figure turned slowly, and I saw her face—pale, smeared with blood, and her eyes vacant and lifeless.
"Sarah!" I shouted, taking a step forward but stopping myself just in time.
She didn't respond; she just stared at me with those empty eyes.
I glanced down at what she was hunched over and felt bile rise in my throat.
It was Michael's favorite stuffed bear, now soaked in blood.
"Sarah, what happened?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady as panic clawed at me from all sides.
She stood up slowly, her movements jerky and unnatural.
Sarah lunged at me with a guttural growl, and I fired the gun instinctively.
The bullet hit her forehead, and she collapsed instantly.
My heart pounded as I checked the room for Michael.
He wasn't there.
I grabbed the bloodied bear and ran downstairs, desperate to find any clues.
Outside, the streets were filled with chaos—zombies attacking anyone in sight.
I needed to get to the store where Sarah had mentioned in her note.
I tightened my grip on the USP and headed out, determined to find my son amidst the growing horror around me.
The air was thick with smoke and the stench of decay.
People screamed and ran in every direction, some being dragged down by the relentless undead.
I ducked behind a parked car as a group of zombies shuffled past, their eyes vacant and mouths agape.
I took a deep breath and sprinted towards the store, weaving through the chaos.
The storefront was shattered, glass littering the sidewalk like deadly confetti.
Inside, shelves were overturned, and products were scattered everywhere.
"Michael!" I shouted, my voice barely audible over the din of destruction outside.
No response.
I moved cautiously through the aisles, my gun raised and ready.
A sudden noise made me whirl around—a can rolling across the floor.
"Who's there?" I demanded, my finger hovering over the trigger.
A figure emerged from behind a shelf—an older man with a wild look in his eyes.
"Don't shoot! I'm not one of them!" he pleaded, raising his hands in surrender.
"Have you seen a little boy? About six years old?" I asked urgently.
He shook his head. "No, but there's a back room. Maybe he's hiding there."
I nodded and moved towards the back of the store, my heart racing faster with each step.
The door to the back room was slightly ajar.
I pushed it open slowly, peering inside.
"Michael?" I called out softly.
A small whimper came from behind a stack of boxes.
I rushed over and found him curled up, clutching another stuffed animal tightly.
"Daddy!" he cried, throwing his arms around my neck.
"It's okay, buddy. I'm here," I whispered, holding him close.
"We need to get out of here," I said firmly, standing up with Michael in my arms.
As we made our way back through the store, I heard a low growl behind us.
A zombie had followed us inside.
I aimed and fired quickly, taking it down before it could get any closer.
We stepped outside into the chaos once more.
The streets were even worse now—fires burning unchecked and more zombies pouring in from every direction.
"We need to find somewhere safe," I muttered to myself, scanning the area for any possible refuge.
A nearby alleyway looked promising—narrow enough to slow down any pursuers.
I darted towards it, Michael clinging to me tightly.
We reached the end of the alley and found an old service door that was slightly ajar.
I kicked it open and hurried inside, slamming it shut behind us.
The room was dark and musty but seemed secure enough for now.
"We'll stay here for a bit," I told Michael, setting him down gently.
I steadied my breath, clutching Michael close to me.
The room was pitch dark, but I could hear the faint shuffling of zombies outside.
Their groans and the scraping of their feet against the pavement sent chills down my spine.
Michael whimpered softly, and I tightened my grip on him, trying to reassure him without words.
Suddenly, the door burst open with a loud bang, and a man stumbled in, eyes wild with fear.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, aiming my USP at him instantly.
The man froze, his hands raised in surrender. "Robert E. Frankless," he replied, his voice trembling. "Former military. Lost too many soldiers. Killed too many zombies to count."
I lowered my gun slightly but kept it ready. "Why are you here?" I asked, my tone still wary.
Robert's eyes filled with grief as he looked around the room. "No reason to kill the living when the dead are after you," he said quietly.
I nodded, understanding the grim reality we faced. "We need a plan to survive," I said firmly.
Robert glanced at Michael and then back at me. "We can't stay here for long. This place isn't safe," he said urgently.
"Do you have any suggestions?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing tension.
He nodded. "There's an old warehouse a few blocks from here. It's fortified and has supplies. We can make it there if we move quickly."
I considered his words for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Alright, let's go," I said, picking Michael up again.
Robert led the way out of the dark room and into the alleyway. The streets were still chaotic, but we moved swiftly and silently, avoiding any unnecessary confrontations with the undead.
As we approached the warehouse, I could see that it was indeed fortified—barbed wire lined the top of the fence, and heavy metal doors secured the entrance.
Robert knocked on the door in a specific pattern, and after a moment, it creaked open just enough for us to slip inside.
The interior was dimly lit but spacious. Shelves lined with canned goods and medical supplies filled one side of the room, while makeshift beds occupied another corner.
A few other survivors were scattered around, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear.
"We're safe here for now," Robert said, closing the door behind us and securing it with a heavy bolt.
I set Michael down gently on one of the beds and turned to Robert. "Thank you," I said sincerely. "We wouldn't have made it without your help."
He nodded but didn't say anything more. The weight of our situation hung heavily in the air.
One of the other survivors approached us—a woman with short-cropped hair and a determined look in her eyes. "I'm Claire," she introduced herself. "Welcome to our little sanctuary."
"James," I replied, shaking her hand. "And this is my son Michael."
She smiled warmly at Michael before turning back to me. "We'll do our best to keep you both safe," she promised.
I nodded gratefully and took a moment to survey our surroundings more closely. The warehouse was well-organized; it was clear that these people had been here for some time and knew how to survive.
But even in this relative safety, I couldn't shake the feeling that danger was never far away.
As night fell outside, we settled in for what would undoubtedly be another long and restless night.
Michael clung to me tightly as he drifted off to sleep, his small body trembling with residual fear.
I held him close, my mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.
Just as I began to relax slightly, there was a sudden commotion near the entrance—a loud banging followed by frantic shouts.
"Zombies! They're breaking through!" someone yelled in panic.
I jumped up, grabbing my USP once more as chaos erupted around us.
Chapter 2
Robert and Claire sprang into action immediately.
"James, help me with this!" Robert shouted, pointing to a heavy metal shelf nearby.
I nodded and grabbed the shelf, my muscles straining as I pushed it against the door.
Michael clung to my leg, his eyes wide with fear.
"Michael, stay close to me," I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
"Everyone, grab anything heavy!" Robert commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Claire found a wooden beam and wedged it under the door handle.
The pounding from outside grew louder, each thud sending vibrations through the floor.
Sweat dripped down my face as I secured the barricade with all my strength.
The door shook violently but held for now.
We all backed away, breathing heavily, listening to the relentless banging.
"We need a plan," I said, turning to the group, my voice steady but urgent.
Robert nodded. "We can't stay here much longer. We need to find a way out."
Claire looked around the room, her eyes scanning for any possible escape routes. "There's an emergency exit at the back of the warehouse," she said. "But it's risky."
"We don't have much choice," I replied. "We need to move before they break through."
Robert grabbed a map from a nearby table and spread it out on one of the shelves. "Here's the layout of the warehouse," he explained. "The emergency exit is here," he pointed to a spot on the map.
"How many zombies are out there?" I asked, trying to gauge our chances.
"Too many," Claire said grimly. "But if we move quickly and stick together, we might make it."
I nodded and turned to Michael. "Buddy, you need to be brave for me, okay? We're going to get out of here."
He nodded, his small face determined despite his fear.
"Alright," Robert said, folding up the map and tucking it into his pocket. "Let's do this."
We moved swiftly through the warehouse, keeping low and avoiding any unnecessary noise. The pounding on the front door continued, growing more intense with each passing moment.
As we reached the back of the warehouse, we found the emergency exit—a heavy metal door with a rusted handle.
Robert tested it cautiously. "It's stuck," he muttered, frustration evident in his voice.
"Let me try," I said, stepping forward. I grabbed the handle and pulled with all my might. The door creaked but didn't budge.
"We need something to pry it open," Claire suggested, looking around for any tools.
I spotted a crowbar lying on one of the shelves and grabbed it. "This should do," I said, handing it to Robert.
He wedged the crowbar into the gap between the door and its frame and pushed with all his strength. The door groaned in protest but finally gave way with a loud screech.
"Go! Go!" Robert urged us as he held the door open.
Claire went first, followed by Michael and me. Robert was last, pulling the door shut behind him as best he could.
We found ourselves in a narrow alleyway behind the warehouse. The air was thick with tension as we moved quickly but cautiously towards safety.
Suddenly, a group of zombies appeared at the far end of the alleyway, their vacant eyes locking onto us immediately.
"Run!" I shouted, grabbing Michael's hand and sprinting towards an intersection up ahead.
Robert and Claire were right behind us as we rounded the corner and found ourselves in another street filled with chaos—fires burning unchecked and more zombies pouring in from every direction.
"This way!" Claire yelled over her shoulder as she led us towards an abandoned building that looked relatively secure.
Inside the abandoned building, we quickly set up a defensive perimeter.
Robert and Claire moved to secure the windows, while Michael stayed close to me, his eyes wide with fear.
"James, help me with this," Robert called out, pointing to a heavy wooden table.
I nodded and together we pushed it against the door, creating a makeshift barricade.
Claire rummaged through a nearby cabinet and found some old tools.
"We can use these to reinforce the windows," she said, handing me a hammer and nails.
I took them and began nailing boards across the window frames, my hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline.
The room was dimly lit by the fading daylight streaming through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. Dust particles floated in the air, illuminated by the weak light.
"Stay close, Michael," I whispered, glancing over my shoulder to make sure he was safe.
He nodded, clutching his stuffed animal tightly.
As we worked silently, the tension in the air was palpable. Every creak of the floorboards or distant moan from outside made us jumpy.
"We need to clear each room," Robert said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Make sure there are no surprises."
Claire nodded in agreement. "I'll take the left side; James, you take the right."
I nodded and motioned for Michael to stay put. "Stay here with Robert," I instructed him softly.
Michael's eyes were wide with fear, but he nodded obediently.
Claire and I moved cautiously through the building, our weapons at the ready. The air was thick with dust and decay, and every step seemed to echo ominously in the silence.
We cleared each room methodically, checking behind doors and under furniture for any signs of movement. The tension was almost unbearable as we listened intently for any sounds that might indicate danger.
In one of the rooms, I found an old radio on a dusty shelf. I picked it up and examined it closely. "This might be useful," I muttered to myself, tucking it under my arm.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from upstairs. Everyone froze.
Robert signaled for silence with a finger to his lips and motioned for us to follow him up the creaky staircase. Our footsteps were barely audible as we ascended, weapons at the ready.
The upper floor was even darker than below, with only faint slivers of light filtering through boarded-up windows. The air was musty and filled with an unsettling silence.
We moved slowly down the hallway, our senses heightened by fear and anticipation. Each door we passed seemed to hold potential danger behind it.
At the end of the hallway, we reached a door that was slightly ajar. Robert held up his hand for us to stop and listened carefully for any sounds from within.
A faint shuffling noise came from inside—a sound that sent chills down my spine.
Robert glanced back at us and mouthed silently, "Ready?"
We nodded in unison.
With a swift motion, Robert kicked open the door and burst into the room with his weapon raised. Claire and I followed closely behind him.
The room was empty except for a single zombie stumbling around near an overturned bookshelf. Its vacant eyes locked onto us immediately as it let out a low growl.
Without hesitation, Robert fired his weapon twice—each shot hitting its mark perfectly. The zombie collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap.
"Clear," Robert said tersely as he lowered his weapon.
We all breathed a sigh of relief but knew that this momentary victory didn't mean we were safe yet.
"We need to keep moving," Claire said urgently as she scanned our surroundings for any other threats.
Robert and I rushed to the fortified building's entrance, guns ready.
Michael clung to Claire, trembling.
The soldiers outside shouted louder, their gunfire intensifying.
I hesitated but then nodded to Robert.
We moved the barricade aside, letting the soldiers in.
As soon as the door opened, a zombie lunged at us.
Robert shot it down with a single bullet to the head.
The soldiers quickly entered, panting and bloodied.
One soldier, a sergeant, stepped forward.
"Sergeant Davis," he introduced himself, catching his breath.
"We've secured a nearby safe zone. We need to move now."
I looked at Robert, then back at Sergeant Davis.
"Alright," I agreed. "We'll join forces."
Claire tightened her grip on Michael, her eyes filled with determination.
"We're ready," she said firmly.
The pounding on the front door grew louder, each thud sending vibrations through the floor.
Sweat dripped down my face as I secured my grip on my USP.
"Let's move out!" Sergeant Davis commanded.
We all prepared to move out, knowing time was running out as more zombies closed in on our location.
Robert led the way, his rifle raised and ready.
We exited through the back of the building into a narrow alleyway.
The air was thick with tension as we moved quickly but cautiously towards safety.
Suddenly, a group of zombies appeared at the far end of the alleyway, their vacant eyes locking onto us immediately.
"Run!" I shouted, grabbing Michael's hand and sprinting towards an intersection up ahead.
Robert and Claire were right behind us as we rounded the corner and found ourselves in another street filled with chaos—fires burning unchecked and more zombies pouring in from every direction.
"This way!" Claire yelled over her shoulder as she led us towards an abandoned building that looked relatively secure.
Inside the abandoned building, we quickly set up a defensive perimeter.
Robert and Claire moved to secure the windows while Michael stayed close to me, his eyes wide with fear.
"James, help me with this," Robert called out, pointing to a heavy wooden table.
I nodded and together we pushed it against the door, creating a makeshift barricade.
Claire rummaged through a nearby cabinet and found some old tools.
"We can use these to reinforce the windows," she said, handing me a hammer and nails.
I took them and began nailing boards across the window frames, my hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline.
The room was dimly lit by the fading daylight streaming through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. Dust particles floated in the air, illuminated by the weak light.
"Stay close, Michael," I whispered, glancing over my shoulder to make sure he was safe.
He nodded, clutching his stuffed animal tightly.
As we worked silently, the tension in the air was palpable. Every creak of the floorboards or distant moan from outside made us jumpy.
"We need to clear each room," Robert said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Claire nodded in agreement. "I'll take the left side; James, you take the right."
I nodded and motioned for Michael to stay put. "Stay here with Robert," I instructed him softly.
Michael's eyes were wide with fear but he nodded obediently.
Claire and I moved cautiously through the building, our weapons at the ready. The air was thick with dust and decay and every step seemed to echo ominously in the silence.
We cleared each room methodically checking behind doors and under furniture for any signs of movement. The tension was almost unbearable as we listened intently for any sounds that might indicate danger.
In one of the rooms I found an old radio on a dusty shelf. I picked it up and examined it closely.
"This might be useful," I muttered to myself tucking it under my arm.
Suddenly a loud crash echoed from upstairs. Everyone froze.
Robert signaled for silence with a finger to his lips and motioned for us to follow him up the creaky staircase.
Our footsteps were barely audible as we ascended weapons at the ready.
The upper floor was even darker than below with only faint slivers of light filtering through boarded-up windows.
The air was musty and filled with an unsettling silence.
We moved slowly down the hallway our senses heightened by fear and anticipation.
Each door we passed seemed to hold potential danger behind it.
At the end of the hallway we reached a door that was slightly ajar.
Robert held up his hand for us to stop and listened carefully for any sounds from within.
A faint shuffling noise came from inside—a sound that sent chills down my spine.
Robert glanced back at us and mouthed silently "Ready?"
We nodded in unison.
With a swift motion Robert kicked open the door and burst into the room with his weapon raised.
Claire and I followed closely behind him.
The room was empty except for a single zombie stumbling around near an overturned bookshelf.
Its vacant eyes locked onto us immediately as it let out a low growl.
Without hesitation Robert fired his weapon twice—each shot hitting its mark perfectly.
The zombie collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap.
"Clear," Robert said tersely as he lowered his weapon.
We all breathed a sigh of relief but knew that this momentary victory didn't mean we were safe yet.
