Last Message from a Dying Planet

March 14th, 2013, Safe-house. Just another normal day. Killed a dozen today. Wiped out a nest of the filth. They are everywhere. Thank God-who-no-longer-exists they haven't learnt how to unlock doors and hot-wire cars. That'll be the end of the world. Not that it hasn't already happened. I don't quite see the reason for my carrying on, living like this. Perhaps my saneness left me when Lazlo died, bitten to death by the very kind of monsters I had the pleasure of eliminating today. As I do everyday. Lazlo - the Hooch to my Turner, my own faithful Watson, my German Shepherd - Timber Wolf crossbred friend.

I'm pretty sure I am THE LAST human on the Earth. I have tried all forms of communication. Never had any answer from anyone anywhere in the bloody world. I've sent emails to random addresses, regularly and religiously updated my social network website statuses, called up all the numbers in the phonebooks of every single cell phone I've come across. As I said, no answer. If you've spent the last half year buried under a rock, let me update you: On September 15th, last year, a fifty-year old overweight Sydneysider ate a stale hamburger and became the first victim of a new epidemic. Why is it almost always a hamburger? How clichéd. The epidemic turned out to be a mutated strain of those rabies-causing bacteria or virus or whatever. Thing is, these little buggers don't just cause lockjaw and hydrophobia. They altered your mind and body. Made you very like the zombies you see in low-budget Hollywood movies. Well, the aforementioned Sydneysider decided he liked human flesh better than the pork in his burger and went on a biting spree chomping on 23 fellow citizens before he could be suppressed and sedated. Stupid Australians put all the 23 bite victims in the same hospital. A few hours later, there were 24 zombies running amok in Sydney's top hospital. Two hours later, Sydney's finest had managed to account for all the 24 zombies. But by then, the bite-o-meter read 413.

When humans turn, they just turn. Nothing of the persons they were seconds ago is left within the vestiges of their minds. Physically, they maintain their appearances, but not for long. Pretty soon, their faces are smeared with blood as they launch themselves into the feeding frenzy. I have had the opportunity to study these new creatures at close quarters. It seems they have only one aim in life – to bite and feed. I have no clue about their reproduction methods – or indeed, if they ever engage in sexual activities. I have never seen a zombie even show a smidgen of fondness or emotional understanding towards one of its fellows. I’m forced to conclude that they don’t even differentiate between males and females and depend entirely on biting and transferring the virus in order to propagate their species.

I wonder where it will go now that every human in the world, except for me, has been infected and turned into a zombie. Isn’t this like an evolutionary dead-end? Are these zombies like a black plague that cleans up the system and then just dies away slowly? Is the Earth merely purging itself of all its unwanted life-forms? Am I wrong to still cling on to life when it’s so much simpler to just let go? All I have to do is open the door, get in the elevator and go down into the street. They are there. The band of 20 led by the tall, thin male. They have been following me for some days now. They are wary of me, for I pick off any of their members foolish enough to stick his ugly face around the side of dilapidated buildings that encompass narrow alleyways that the zombies skulk in. I always wanted to be good with a gun. Six months battling off zombies and fighting for survival have rendered me more than proficient with several types of weapons. My safe-house, which happens to be the penthouse suite of a plush five-star hotel, is a veritable arsenal of guns and blades. I finally feel like a hero – all set to protect the innocent and smirk at the face of evil. Here I am, battling an entire world of evil zombies and there is not a single girl who I can show-off for. Typical. Strangely enough, the viral strain that’s messed up every human being seems to be dormant when in other animals. I mean, I haven’t seen a zombie cow or anything. There might be a zombie mosquito but that will hardly make any difference.

Well, whoever you are, if you are reading this, you are reading my blog. You are alive. You are human. You are not alone. Please leave a comment. I will read it because I keep my blog updated. Please be alive!

Its time I went for a drive. I have to check out something. Yesterday, on my way back from some shopping – which, by the way, involves walking into a supermarket and picking up any carton that hasn’t been vandalized and checking to see if its past expiry date – I spotted an office building with a light still burning inside. Maybe there’s somebody alive there. Maybe.