AN: Spoiler : Well, the prologue is half-done.

I hope I've done a sufficient job. I like to think I've improved since the first time I sat down and wrote a fiction.

Well, I mean, I guess that isn't that hard. My second attempt at writing was the feline faction, whereas my first was...

Would, 'walking, talking, homicidal, carnivorous potato that goes on an adventure,' be a good enough of an explanation?

I guess not...

I guess that sometimes, it's not that I'm insane.

I'm just crazy silly.

Though I wonder just how silly I can call a vegetable as messed up as me.

It's just, laughing is so much more fun when you're insane, you know?

Ah~I've taken your personage, my lil' creation...

I was fond of Sam, if I ignore all the grammar errors. ^^

*Rest was deleted because of too much philisophicalicliolicy.*

-In a Falmart 3.6 miles from the fallen crane-

"Hey, you find anything back there?"

Luke walked out from the sports' section, holding a bow and carrying a quiver. "Yeah, but I don't know how effective it'll be against those monsters. I can't believe I once thought a wooden bat was enough..."

His shame surfaces from his first meeting with Tiff. Although, his shame comes from most of the other things that happened at that time.

"Wow, you can use a bow? I'm impressed, Luke." Alice, a long-haired blond with a thin stature for the most part, except in...certain areas.

I wave my hand. "Only a hobby. Never thought I'd get the chance to use it in the apocalypse, that's for sure."

Alice covered her mouth with a small hand, and let out a cute sound. "I doubt anyone thought the apocalypse would come so soon."

"You're wrong. I knew this would happen, though it came a couple months later than expected."

Bren, dark-haired, tall, wearing a button-down blue shirt, and a pair of rectangular glasses. He's about 6'3'', considering he's about an inch taller than me. He gives off a, 'I'm so smart I use my IQ as the password for my phone.' feeling. Although he seems mostly harmless.

"Hmph, mff gumf fum fmf."

...I still don't know the short ones name. Shorter than tiff, though his/her clothing is almost as baggy.

While I reviewed all of my knowledge on my new comrades, Alice had a look of wonder on her face.

"Wow, really!? How did you know? Did you use meth? Or steroids?"

Brens' expression cramped. "Yeah, I used math, and science, if that's what you meant."

Alice brought both arms up to her chin with a face full of wonderment. "Ohhhhh! You must be really, really smart!"

Bren turned his head ninety-degrees, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Hoh, indeed. I use my IQ as the password for my phone."

"Ahhhh! Me too! Is your password 0036 like mine?"

Bren bent over, like he'd been punched in the gut. "No...it's not..."

Luke held back his laughter. "Well, I'm sure your phone is very intelligent. But, I'd like to try something. Here, catch."

Saying so, Luke threw a backpack to Bren. He caught it with a casual hand. "Could you explain what you're trying?"

I pointed at the bag. "How much do you think that weighs?"

Bren let it sink, then lifted it. "I'm surprised you filled it. What'd you pack in, cotton-candy?"

"Open it up. See for yourself."

Bren unzipped it, then froze. He slowly took out various kinds of canned food. He pulled out a pocketknife, and opened a can to be sure it was full. Then he put them back in. Bren slowly got up.

"Huh? What? Why is everyone quiet?" Alice looked between me and Bren. Bren tossed the backpack back to me.

"So, your name is Luke...tell me, how did you find out about this?" Bren put his hands in his pockets.

Luke shrugged. "Do you feel tired? Exhausted? Even a bit winded?"

Bren looked back outside, towards the way we'd come, and a look of realization hit him. "No...I'm not even sweating."

"Eh? What? Why would you be sweating?"

Luke looked at Alice. "Because we just sprinted, what, a mile, without stopping? Not to mention being chased by monsters."

"...I don't get it?"

Bren walked up to Luke. "Have you talked to your friend...Tiff, about this?"

"No. I started getting suspicious when Tiff fell six-stories and then took off running, or when he did things I thought were impossible for regular people to do. Even now, I'm surprised he hasn't noticed. It's like this is Tiffs' natural state."

"...why haven't you told him?"

Luke smiled sheepishly. "I thought he'd make fun of me. 'You, super-strength? HAH! I'll tell that one to your mom and sisters while they're-,' ahem, well, something like that. And..."

Luke looked towards the toppled crane, a single arm still diagonally reaching for the heavens. "If Tiff knew I could lift ten bags, he'd make me carry twenty."

"...I agree with you on that. Your friend seems like the type to take things to extremes."

"Haha, you have no idea...

And neither do I."

If I could go back in time, and shoot the me that thought jumping off a moving train was a good idea, I'd screw her mom as well. Or, not. I mean, maybe? Would that count as incest...? Maybe if...I mean, my mom is pretty hot...would dad mind...hmm...

I'll have to save this thought for later.

Deciding whether having sex with a past-version of myself's mother is incest, and whether I would be ok with that or not, will have to wait until I'm not, you know, at risk of death.

Or at least until I'm not so pissed off. My hormones go crazy when I'm angry. Mmm...mother...you dirty apron-wearing-slut...

Ahem, impending death, right.

I pulled Longsilver behind my head as I stumbled back, claws slashing the front of my shirt.

"Damn, I only have two more of these..."

I threw the stupid gun at the stupid zombie. Its' nose broke, though that didn't faze it. It brought both of its' clawed hands towards my head. I ducked, dived, and rolled in between its' legs, then started running towards the altar.

Behind me, one of the pews fell over. I hopped up next to the cross, grabbed both arms, and leaned back. When that didn't break it off, I pushed myself right up to it, until I could stare the figure on it in the eye. They really went all-out with the details on this almost life-size statue.

"I hope you don't mind, J-dog. In a bit of a pinch here, I'm sure you'll forgive me or whatever."

I threw myself back, and jerked the cross back. With a crack, the bottom splintered off. I tottered back, then turned around. The zombie-priest had gotten up, and started running at me. I pushed the cross over.

Face met cross, then both met the ground. Several satisfying snaps echoed within the building, showing off the perfect acoustics.

I hurried down, pushed the cross over a little, then yanked the eyes out of the zombie. I then backed up, and took a seat on the altar.

The first bang came at that point. The cross holding the doors closed shook, then settled down. A second later, two bangs came within quick succession. I swung my legs back and forth, as the banging slowly grew.

Until it sounded like an avalanche was breaking down the door. Even the thrashing zombie stuck under the big cross was reverent in comparison.

For a day and a night, I sat and whistled. Until holes started appearing in the doors, and clawed arms started reaching through.

I stopped whistling. I tried to start again, but I seem to have lost the tune. It was something cheery, I think. I got off of the altar, and started looking around the sheds.

Do do-do, do-do, do-do.

Nah, that wasn't it. I pass by the twitching zombie, who I'd piled a couple more pews on, just to be sure. I went to a cleaning closet, and took out a mop. I swung it too and fro, back and forth.

Dum, de-dum, de-dum, de-dum.

No, that's not it either. I went over to the barely moving priest, and moved the mop-head towards a claw. I slid the wood against the claw, and even without much leverage, a small cut appeared. I went to work.

De-do, de-do, de-do, de-do.

Nope, not at all. The mop-part finally came off, and I was left with a length of wood. I went to the other hand, which was held under a pew of its' own. I shifted it a little, until two of the claws had freedom. They wildly struck everything around them. I grabbed one of the fingers, and with a heart full of doubt, used the claw to slice off the other finger.

Like a sharp-knife through a vein.

I took the claw with finger-attached, and headed back to the closet. Inside, I found some pigeon tape. I went back to the altar, and got to work.

Dum-dum-dum-dum-dum.

I gave the spear a swing. The claw didn't go flying off, so that's good. I went over to the door, with several arms shoved through. I raised up the spear. And as I did, I found the tune I'd lost.

"Mm, mhm, hm-hm-a-mm, mmm, hm!"

It helped me forget the sound of arms hitting the floor.

...

I finished taping the last limb on the wall. I'm almost out of pigeon-tape.

I took a look around, enjoying the artful crosses, paintings, wall-designs, and still-flailing arms. I gave a nod, then went back to the door, and took a look outside through one of the many convenient holes.

Yep, they've all still got fangs. Although they look kinda silly with stumps for arms. But, I haven't eaten in a day. I should definitely eat something. Then go to sleep. Tomorrow, I'll solve the rest of the problem.

But Luke was carrying all of the cereal...

...one day...

...two days...

...I'm not gonna do it.

That's sick.

No way.

I asked Luke if he wanted to try cannibalism out of sarcasm. That doesn't mean I was interested.

Heh, this must be fates' way of making a joke. Well, fuck you.

I spent the next two hours gathering wood-shavings for tinder, and making a small pyre out of pews. I then spent another hour scraping two claws together to make sparks, the fingers wiggling the whole time. But I couldn't cut them off, since then I'd have to hold the claws' by the edge, and I foresee many issues with that.

After several failures, I got a good fire going. I then got another maimed mop, and stuck a bicep on it, after pulling all the bones out.

...I'm going to have a hard time getting to sleep after that. I never wanted to know so much about the bones contained in a humans' arm.

I held the arm over the fire for a good hour, then took a big bite, hoping it would burn my tongue.

It was heatless. And it tasted like shit. And I realized that it had been healing from the burns the whole time I'd been cooking it.

I threw-up, then dry-hacked, then tried again. Three attempts later, and I'd gotten some down. I dared not eat the whole thing, for fear it'd heal inside me, and start messing things up. Then I fed the fire some more, and lay down with the altar cloth as a blanket. The taste still in my mouth.

I hate my life.