Down the dark path to the light!

You know it’s a bad day when you get an ear blown off and you have to put a bullet in your dad’s head. How does one prepare for a day like this? You really want to know don’t you? I’ll tell you. You don’t! Nothing can prepare you mentally or physically for the trauma that is killing one of your own. Sure, I’ll admit that I’ve thought about killing some people in my day, but never anyone that I loved and held dear. However, all is not lost, I will let you in on how I coped.
After I shot my dad in the head I had mixed emotions. I wanted to cry but no tears came, I wanted to scream but I couldn’t catch my breath, most of all I wanted revenge. Revenge was do-able, I could still move and every muscle in body wanting me to take out my ire on the masses of zombies just outside the house. I dropped my backpack of weapons, food, and ammunition in order to make my next trip outside more personal. I double checked my body armor and picked up the hatchet, machete, and the .45. “I’m going to go outside and wreek havoc on those undead bastards!” Once outside I let out the loudest scream I could muster and within a minute or so they came for me and I couldn’t have been happier. Machete in hand I rush the first dead head in sight. First swing of the blade severed the zombies shoulder and neck, splattering coagulated blood all over my armor. Leaving the machete there I grab the hatchet and put everything I have into planting it directly in the top of the skull, the recoil of broken bone and the slosh of brain matter was more than satisfying. The longer I went the more brutal my slayings became, using my bear hands to eviscerate the motionless corpses of the undead. I took much joy in ripping the flesh from the creatures that were the direct cause of my horrible action. They will all pay the price for the one and there is nothing that can change my mind or stop me from being the one to send them back to hell. Never have I been more confident and sure of anything in my life. I have a purpose and my purpose is the destruction of the undead.
Dusk came quickly and, as much fun as I was having, I know better than to fight at night. I returned to my dad’s attic to retire for the night. Once inside I removed the armor now covered in chunks of flesh and blood, so much in fact that the clothes beneath my armor were stained with the carnage that I inflicted. My dad’s body was still on the floor motionless, so I scavenged through the boxes in the attic and found a change of clothes and an old American flag. I used the flag to cover my dad and put on the clean linens. Seeing him there only fueled my hatred even more and I made sure to take it all in, as to not forget any detail. The image will serve to keep me alive long enough to exact my revenge without any thread of hesitation. Once the image was safely stored away in my head, I broke down and cried for hours and eventually passed out.
Dreams are often times more cruel and vicious than the real world. Dreams can take you to wonderful places only to drop you off a cliff. My dreams are usually full of images of dealing death to those who are no longer dead, but lately they have been more personal and reoccurring. I see images of my ex-wife and close family members surrounded by zombies. They are all pointing at me and taunt me by telling me I will never be able to save them. As the zombies close in I run to them as hard and fast as I can but never reach them. As the zombies feed on the flesh on my loved ones I can hear their screams but all I can do is watch. In the midst of my helplessness and pain, I spring to life and wake up screaming. It’s morning now, and it’s time to prepare for the trek home…