So if your group has found a place to stay (and I’m assuming you did) , if you’re not fighting zombies, you have every right to relax. But, you also have to keep an eye on your surroundings. Sure, the atmosphere seems harmless, but there’s always something that could kill you. For example a zombie could be wandering around looking for a next meal, or a crazy guy with a chainsaw. Either way, if you let your guard down, your chances of death increase.

Now I learned in my very first experience being a watchman for a very not-safe safehouse, there’s not a lot you can do to pass the time. So I slept a lot, which was nice for a little while, until I couldn’t do it anymore because of the uncomfortable, dusty mattress. I was living like a king, guys. I wanted to get the hell out and follow Ashton on his zombie quest. I didn’t care if I got hurt or died, the boredom was killing me. But then his words flashed through my mind:

“You’ll only slow me down.”

“All you have for a weapon is a broken bat.” I tried to force them out of my head, but they stuck to my conscience. Damn it, he’s right. Without my bat, I was baggage. I’ll never survive. But...no. I slapped myself to force the thought out of my head. A negative mindset only makes the situation worse. I had to find something to do. I forced myself off the bunk bed and walked over to the curtain (I don’t care what Ashton says, that is not a door). I peeked outside, hoping there was a hoard around the corner I could pull a sneak attack on. And...nothing. I sighed and went back inside. Man, even “The Walking Dead”’s quiet moments were more exciting than this. At least the group was hooking up with each other and dealing with crazy people. Oh well. I decided not to go outside since the sun was gonna set soon. Besides, Ashton was probably really far away by that point. Well, if he wasn’t dead. I shake thought away, completely horrified at the prospect. I tried talking to myself to calm down.

“No. No. He’s fine. He brought a gun with him. He can take care of himself.” My rambling was interrupted by the sound of my stomach rumbling. Crap, I’d forgotten I hadn’t eaten anything since Ashton found me. I walked around the room trying to find something. Not the most ideal way to pass the time, but I did need food. As I skimmed the shelves, I suddenly remembered that I had a can of soup in my backpack! I mean, I found it a couple days ago and it was probably expired by now, but still! I grabbed my backpack from the top of the bunk bed and sat in the middle of the floor. I had to dig around for a bit before pulling it out. I knew this can of soup would come in handy. My sustenance was fulfilled!

I turned the can and looked at the faded label. Creamed Mushroom. I would’ve preferred bacon and potato myself. Beggars can’t be choosers though. I took out my can opener and cut the lid off. The soup looked normal enough since there wasn’t any mold in it. With only me and the small rustle of the wind, relaxation was underway. Since I didn’t have any spoons, I drank from the can very slowly, so I could savor every drop. This was my last can after all. As I sipped though, the rustling got louder. I shrugged it off though, it was really windy today. Suddenly, the rustles were replaced with low groans. Okay, now it was getting weird. I immediately stopped drinking and slowly turned around. A lone zombie was staring right at me. A few feet from my face.

I screamed and jumped back against the wall, accidentally splashing the soup in the zombie’s face. The corpse screeched and started swinging his arms around violently. As I ran to the box shelf, I noticed the shower curtain was completely open. Crap, it must’ve snuck in when I wasn’t looking. And I was too busy enjoying my soup to notice. Just my luck. I scooched around, trying to get as far away from the zombie as possible. Luckily, it wasn’t moving much besides flailing its arms around. Good, that gave me some time to think. I couldn’t run since there wasn’t much face around the room. What was I gonna do? I then looked at my hand and realized I was still holding the can opener. An idea suddenly popped into my head. I could probably kill it with the can opener, I just gotta be quick about it.

I took a deep breath and slowly creeped toward the undead corpse. And with a sudden burst of energy, I tackled it to the ground. The zombie toppled to the ground, it’s arms stopped flailing as it landed. I then pressed the handle on the can opener and sliced it across the zombie’s face. The green skin split open under the blade, making sounds similar to dry skin being peeled off.

“Die! Die! Die you moldy son of a bitch!” Not the must majestic battle cry, but hey, I was pretty angry. I made more slices across its arms and chest until it stopped moving. I stared at the carnage, gasping. I actually killed a zombie. With a can opener. How?

I didn’t have time to answer my own question as the feeling of shock quickly morphed into fatigue as I flopped to the ground, my eyes heavy. Thank god it was one of the dumb ones. If it was stronger, I don’t know what I would’ve done. But god, I wished I had a baseball bat. The corpse was near me, as it hadn’t. But I didn’t care. I’ll clean it up tomorrow. I closed my eyes and smiled. Ashton’s gonna freak out when he sees this. If he actually comes back. That jerk.