Home Sweet Home...

Goddamn it. I've always hated running. But when you got about fifteen Rotters on your ass, you tend to find strength that you never would have guessed you had. I kept thinking about using that last rifle round to blast my way home, but i kept zombie rule number one in my head- save the last round for yourself. I had to think fast, they almost fuckin' had me. Just then i randomly ran across the street like an idiot and WHAM, a huge semi truck blasted into the horde. I was covered in gore. And that shit stank like death.
I decided to use discretion on that last leg home- the walk down the block. One house was already on fire. I knew an old man lived there, and i knew he was already dead. Call me selfish if you want, but im not stupid. Or at least not that fucking stupid.
There. Just ahead. Home. And my goddamn car wasnt there. My girl was still at work, and she worked pretty far into the heart of this shithole town. And at a grocery store no less. Zombie central. I figured id better look for some "survival" bullshit. So i grabbed my boots and my leather jacket. Just then i heard a loud crash come from the front door. Holy shit. My mind just went blank. The gun i thought, with its one shitty round. Would it be enough? I was quiet for a few seconds, listening to the footsteps. It sounded like more than one. Hell, it sounded like a shitload. Fuck it i thought and took the safety off. They were lurking around and one was coming towards my room. I opened the door and the thing practically fell on top of me. I screamed out and pulled the trigger like an idiot. I blasted a hole right through its guts but, as we all know, that shit just dont work! As i struggled it gnashed its teeth at me and it knocked me down onto the floor. I put the useless rifle up to block my face and i heard some of its teeth crack as it bit down on the barrel. Black pus poured out. I was fucked, i thought, and i could hear the rest of them coming towards the commotion.
It was then that i found it. My one true companion- my fucking machete!!! It was waiting for me under the couch. With new found strength i kicked the Rotter up off of me and knocked it towards the floor. I looked as it got up, and i listened for the others. Low moans came from the end of the hall. My heart pumped thunder and my adrenalin was like a shot of burning fuel. I raised that machete, screamed out some kind of war cry, and brought it across its neck, decapitating it with one slash. The moving head still tried to bite its way towards me, but my boot smashed it into a disgusting pulp. Thats when the others came lurching in through the door.
Now, i cant much remember what happened there, but i do know that when it was over the old scared me was gone and what was left was a gore covered Zombie Slayer. I can barely remember how long i was there, but i knew that my fear was converted to a few hundred slashes with a rusty blade. I mean, there was just nothing left of those fuckers...