Resident Evil Series Fan Fiction ❯ Survival ❯ Act 1: Home ( Chapter 1 )

I'm Kazuki Ferret, 19 years old and this is my story. As unbelievable as it may seem every part of this story is true, down to the last bullet…

I awoke to a strange smell; a sick mixture that was vaguely familiar to me. After many years of hunting and walking along road sides I could easily recognize the stench of decay. I looked over at my clock; it said: 11:58 pm Sunday. Too early for school…

 

Something was wrong, very wrong. I could feel the difference in the world deep in my bones, in my mind; my very soul screamed that the world had gone foul. I got up out of bed and put my army-style fatigue pants on and my Inu-Yasha black tee-shirt. I brushed my long hair out of my face, I'd dyed it a blood red-color the night before and went down stairs, each step creaked and in the darkness, the demons of my mind stalked behind my back in the shadows of my home. My house was a nice two story suburban cookie cutter home in a nice suburban neighborhood. Really `suburban' was code for boring, nothing major ever happened until me and my friends did it. I lived with my Dad and brother, and my dog; Mr. Parker. The house was really too large for just us, it always had an empty feeling to it since my mother passed on.

 

My dog sat in front of the picture window to the backyard staring at something I couldn't see in the empty blackness of the night. My unease grew, what the fuck is that shit-smell, what the fuck smelled like road kill?

“What is it boy?” my calm voice showed none of the bewilderment my mind felt. Then I saw it, him. A man's shadowy form stood in my backyard staring off into space, something wasn't right… Mr. Parker, a beautiful chow-mix usually barks at people but he was silent, afraid… This shadowy trespasser stood in the nexus of my dog's territory without a rebuttal from the owner of the domain, like he was a dark ghost. There, but not at the same time.

I wasn't about to ignore my instincts any longer, there was something incredibly wrong with the whole situation. I went back up into my room and grabbed the revolver I'd bought from my Uncle; a Smith & Wesson model 29 .44 magnum with a six and a half inch barrel. I grabbed the speed loader that lay next to in, loaded with 250-grain fully jacketed hollow points the gun was more of a hand-cannon then a pistol, far more powerful then my other handgun a Beretta M92FS 9mm. I loaded the massive revolver and checked my clock; 12:00am and I went down the stairs, revolver ready… The man still stood in the yard, hands at his sides staring into space. As if the sky above held answers he was seeking, as if he was staring into the very face of God. I still couldn't make out much about him in the darkness, but something was just so wrong about how he was just standing there.

“He's a real space-cadet.” I said as I switched the porch light on and slowly opened the sliding glass door. I stepped out onto the porch itself with the revolver held in a ready position. The man hadn't yet taken notice of the light or me. I licked my lips and stood there for a few tense seconds before saying “Hey you! Who the fuck are you?”

 

At the sound of my voice his head slowly turned toward me. Once he saw me he started walking towards me, arms out stretched, reaching for me as if he needed support or as if I had a gift for him. As he stepped into the light I could make out the tattered clothing and the ravaged flesh, and the numerous bleeding wounds on his body.

“Oh, shit!” I raised the gun, seeing but not believing the creature in front of me…a zombie! I didn't hesitate, I fired, and the massive revolver bucked in my hand; a muzzle flash of burning brimstone and a report of pure thunder erupted from the barrel of my cannon. The round hit right next to his left eye, punching a .44 inch entry wound and tearing a sizable chunk off the back of his skull. Pieces of scalp and shattered bones rained out of his broken head.

 

I hear moans and then I turned to see two more rounding the corner off my house about ten feet away. I sighted down the revolver and fired twice more, the first round ripped the top of the closest one's head off, the second hit the other one near the collar bone, I fired again, the heavy slug drilled through his pallid skull and he fell to the ground with a dull thud.

“I fucking hate Mondays.” I went back inside locking the door behind me and shutting off the light my adrenaline high complementing my fear in a rushing cocktail of frenzied emotions. Thinking randomly as I ran toward the gun-room; I needed more ammo and my other guns, the Beretta is much more suited for this situation, with a clip capacity of 15 rounds and I own four extra magazines, and there's the Remington 870 express 12-gauge shotgun mine holds 7 shells. I made a quick stop in my room to grab my gun-belt with; a holster for the Beretta, magazine holders for all the Beretta magazines, pliers, a six-inch combat knife, a dump-pouch for the revolver rounds and speed loaders, a folding knife in a leather holder, and a first-aid kit. I also grabbed the shoulder holster for the .44 and put it on, skillfully holstering the large revolver as well.

“Oh wait!” I'd forgotten that I kept all the revolver ammo and speed loaders in my desk, I grabbed them, five speed loaders and a handful of extra rounds, 57 rounds total. I jogged into the gun case room, grabbing the 9 millimeter and its rounds and magazines, I loaded the magazine and the four extras slipping the spare rounds into the dump pouch, for a total of 150 9 millimeter rounds. I held the Beretta in my hand, a lot lighter and less powerful than the .44 but with the same finish, I holstered it.

“I wonder if a zombie apocalypse is a reason to close school… Well I should check the news anyway.” I walked to my guest room, which has a TV in it and switched on the news. A bald black guy in a suit sat behind a desk. His suit was ripped and stained with blood and he had a bandage around his head.

“Hello I'm Dick Winters of the DHS and I'm here to tell you that a plague has been unleashed creating countless zombies and monsters. As unbelievable as that sounds it is the only explanation we have up to this point. All attempts to quell the chaos have failed. In the Sylvania Ohio area a disaster command center has been set up in a Mejier's store near Central Elementary School by the police. I advise all citizens in that area to evacuate to that location as soon as possible. Bring whatever supplies you can, we are broad casting from there now. Please, we need anything you can bring.” I switched the TV off. Mejier's was just outside my neighborhood, only a fifteen minute walk, save for zombie dodging, and the likely possibility of barricades. I put on my converse high-tops and my motorcycle gloves. I'll need a bag… there! A duffle bag set empty in one corner, I grabbed it and my orange hunting vest( to carry the shotgun shells) and returned to the gun room, grabbing the Remington and my father's .357 from the case, my Mossberg 20-gauge pump shotgun and my Savage m110 .30/06 sniper rifle from the closet. I left the Marlin Glenfield model 25 .22 LR rifle behind. I had enough to carry; holding the Remington I wished my dad hadn't gone out drinking with his buddies, he's probably dead. I grasped the door handle, looked at my dog.

“Are you ready? Just keep up ok?” Mr. Parker gave me a look of understanding, then I saw him start wining and backing away from the door. I frowned, “Not this game now boy.”

 

I placed my hand on the knob and started opening the door, Mr. Parker still freaking out. I swung the door open and a wave of stench washed over me… The damned things were right there! I brought the shotgun up. Fear and ravaged hands reached for my heart.

 

-Kazuki Ferret