Last Thoughts Before The Inevitable

Klyde was severely wounded. Not bitten, but wounded. He lay near the staircase, 9mm Pistol in hand. He heard them as they quickly and ferociously tore at the doors and windows. This is how he was going to die. Those things were going to eat him until nothing but little crumbs of flesh remain and a blood puddle. What did they call them? Zom-bis? No… Zombies. Yeah, Zombies. One of them broke a part of the door, it's hand trying to reach for Klyde, despite how far it was away from him. Before Klyde faced the inevitable, he dedicated his last thoughts on remembering when those… encounters. They took his wife from him, and saw as they ATE her. She was screaming his name. He only stood there in horror for a few seconds before running away from the zombies that weren't feasting on his wife's flesh. The thought disappeared. He didn't want to think about it. He never expected something like the infection to ever happen. Everyone though it was a mere myth. Those who were dedicated to knowing of the zombie anatomy and how they word obviously got far in the fight for survival, while others, struggling for their lives, were killed so soon. As it turns out, the information about the zombies are true. Shoot the head, decapitate them. Then they fell, motionless. Still, there were great numbers of the monsters. Klyde then shot at the hand attempting to reach for him. He felt very depressed. He stopped thinking about zombies, and the past encounters. What was the point? Was it really going to help him? No. His legs took quite the slashing, and could only crawl a very short distance. He could go up the stairs, but it would only delay what he knew came. Death. The though of it sent a shiver down his spine. Not like this. Anything but this. Fate can be a real dick. The windows shattered. He heard the moaning and the slow, yet noisy, foot steps come closer. The door fell. They were walking towards him. He shot at them with the pistol. He knew it was yet another delay. Hence, he decided to put the gun towards his head. The finger was tempted to squeeze. But it did not. He lowered the gun, and grinned. He was losing massive amounts of blood. He felt himself at the brink of death. Thank you, lord, for a more peaceful death… and he closed his eyes, for the final time