Zombie War (Zombies Walk Part 2)
Because there will always be another struggle...Always. Vlad Rosokosovski-Reclamation Day 1, He had no idea how much those words were true. After several Years of peace, some Corrupt KGB Agents found a sample of the virus. Although Highly mutated it may be, it still made the creatures they wanted. This war will truly test Mankinds metal...
. . . . .
Jaden sat at the table, eating supper with his broken family. His father, who was missing his ring and pinkie finger on his left hand. His mother, who tried to hide the emotional scars of the several weeks she was stuck in the thickest of the zombies. His sister, who did nothing at all to hide the scars and would go on rants randomly, one moment yelling obscenities, the next staring out a window, the next cutting herself, the next pound the wall to dust. And his twin brothers, who never made it. Right in front of his mom, they were taken. Jaden got the least of it, probably to do with the fact that he was the one who had run fromt eh house, slaughtering and killing, running over and-
Jaden picked up the phone.
"Shalom Alecheym" He answered in Yiddish.
"Guten Tag, fraulein" Sam answered in a joking tone.
"Hey Sam, nows not the best time-" Jaden started.
"No, listen, I got tickets to Aidens band in New York. Wanna Come?" Sam asked.
Jaden looked at his family.
"Sorry Sam, I'm busy all week. Why don't you take your wife, Alexis?" Jaden asked.
"Because I already am." He stated matter of factly.
" Ask Smith or something, I'm Busy."
"Fine, I doubt the'd say yes though." Sam said sourly.
Jaden Chuckled and hung up the phone, walking back to the table to eat more hotdogs.
"Who was that?" His mother asked.
"Major Sam" Jaden Replied.
His father gave him an exasperated look. His father, being military, had a loathing for the people who decided to nuke Chicago, even though it was the only way to make it stop, his father could care less.
Oh well thought Jaden as he continued on with the hotdogs.
Deep thought #1: In the end, everyone dies. No one can outrun time, death itself is always breathing down your neck, just waiting to slip the noose over you. But, in your time of death, what matters is not when or how or even why. What matters is what you do with it. Do you sit down and call it quits, or do you get up, stare your killer and death itself in the face, and laugh copiously, right until the end.