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I recently submitted this for a writing contest at my school. I'd like to see how my friends like it. PLEASE COMMENT.

Teague
Essence of the Fallen

His heart beat faintly. He could hear it. It was quiet and he couldn't see. He could feel nothing, he was numb.He heard sparks shoot from cut electrical cords. He was still in the lab as his sight restored. He saw the scorched white walls. Sound became clearer and he heard a steady groaning. Breathing returned, and Silas pulled in a large breath. The corrupted air filled his lungs. He coughed a lot of it out but blood resumed its flow around his body. He felt his arm move. He moved it and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He started taking in steady breaths, and the smoke-ridden air cleared around him. His golden eyes scanned the room. That's when he remembered the alarms...and the explosion.

He managed to stand. The numbness was gone; the endorphins his brain released, gone; the adrenaline, gone. His entire body was sore, as if he just woke up after moving trees. He looked around and saw a dark figure. It was obviously wearing a lab coat and it was definitely shuffling its way towards him. Silas tried to turn the other way to run, but panic gripped his throat, cutting off the command from his brain to his feet that was ordering them to run. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He wanted to run, but he couldn't. Finally, the drum in his chest pounded and he felt hot blood rush through his veins. The adrenaline coursed in his veins and the world slowed around Silas.

Silas turned the other way and started sprinting until he came to a closed door. His breathing quickened and deepened like a whirlpool. The figure was gaining more ground and fast. Silas looked around and he saw one of the security guards slumped against the wall. He jumped for him and searched his waist for the pistol. His hands fumbled against the bulletproof vest and leather belt as he searched for the pistol. He heard thudding footsteps get louder and the agonized groaning that was coming from the figure. He found the pistol and yanked it free of the holster. He stood and took aim at the monster. The gun fired three times and the bullets thudded into the walking corpse. It let out an agonized groan and gurgled as it crumpled down to the floor. Silas, with pistol in hand tapped his foot against it. It was dead. He studied its rotten features. The skin was grayed and the pupils had turned a milky white. The eye-whites had yellowed and had become bloodshot. He noticed no blood came from the gunshot wounds. Two in the chest and one in the head and none showed any sign of bleeding. Silas could see blood in the hole, and put a finger to it. It was cold. It was true, these things were dead. But how could they be alive at the same time?

Silas was nearing his thirties. A few weeks ago he celebrated his 28th birthday. His birthday was April 15, 1989. He had fairly long black hair, it stopped just about after his earlobes. It was straight as a line drawn by a person with OCD. He was pale, very pale. Silas hated the sun and he hated outdoor activities. This did not stop him from keeping in shape. He has no obvious muscles, but he makes sure his body is kept taut and lean. He stood about 6’2” and wore glasses. They were missing now, but he only needed them to read. He stood in his lab coat, stained with black from the explosion, his black shirt under that, and then the black uniform pants he wore to work. His shoes were also uniform black to match his pants. He walked the halls with the pistol gripped tightly in hand. Places of the lab that the fire had not yet engulfed had lights flickering on and off. This offered no help to the dark and hopeless aura the carnage gave off.


Silas graduated from the University of Michigan with a P.H.D. He focused on psychology, but LEVIATHAN recruited him to be a manager in their labs. Now anyone who heard of them thought LEVIATHAN stood for something. It wasn’t an acronym; it just represented the enormous size of their facility and staff. Silas was almost glad to join them. Upon his interview, Silas was made to swear never to reveal anything he saw or any projects he worked on, not even other employees that had no right to know.

Silas was assigned to lead the team in PROJECT E.D.E.N. This one was an acronym. It stood for Energy for the Dead End Necrosis. Dead End Necrosis was a previous project, thusly named because it ended in a dead end. It was a war weapon. It was a chemical agent that, once released, would cause anyone caught in its effective radius to develop a case of necrosis. The disease was slightly more advanced as it made your skin rot immediately and everywhere.

Silas opened a door and revealed an executive office, or at least the remains of one. At least he knew where he was. He took a few more turns passing by crushed corpses, burning corpses, torn corpses…just so many corpses. He coughed with the stench. His throat burned with agony. His brain was desperately alerting him he needed water. Silas hoped the Mess Hall might have some rations left over. It had to, for it was the strongest structure on campus.

When he opened the door at the top of the stairwell, he almost gasped at the sight. The buildings were burning and black smoke rose into the air. His eyes scanned the horizon and he saw many dark figures, all shuffling randomly. The air was moist and cool, which was a nice change from the burning lab. He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the semi-fresh air. Most of the smoke was in the sky.

Silas had to move slowly as to not attract the stumbling figures he would catch in the distance. Making his way through the charred buildings, he spotted the Mess Hall. His hope grew, he could feel it in his chest. The Mess Hall still stood. He knew there were likely no explosive materials within. The stoves were electric. He analyzed the field between him and his safety. When he got to the mess hall, he saw several dark shambling figures around the door. They bumped lazily into each other and they didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Silas had to make one of the toughest decisions of his life. Charge in, his pistol blazing, hoping he hits something, or wait until the zombies clear the area, or try to sneak around them. He needed some rest and food and water. Until then, his brain would not work at the capacity he needed. He knew he could take care of rest, but food and water would have to wait. He scouted nearby buildings, and finding a safe one, closed himself inside. He worked with the materials inside to make a makeshift bed. A few lab coats, cardboard, and a pillow he managed to find. His blanket was his own lab coat. He lay down and stared at the dark wall. He heard the faint moaning of the dead. They didn’t know where he was. That was good. He closed his eyes.

His dreams were reconciling. He was thinking in his sleep. The thing he was given to administer to the dead experiments, was called the Essence of the Fallen. LEVIATHAN corps never explained to him what it was, and even tests couldn’t reveal every bit of the chemical composition. It of course worked like every other zombie flick. The subjects were brought back to life with primal instincts and the want to feed on humans.

He woke with a start. He jolted upward and pointed the pistol at the door. He heard scratching. It didn’t dissipate. He knew it was trouble. He stood up from his makeshift bed and moved toward the door, entering the stance he had seen the mercenaries do at the firing range. The door fell over and they streamed inside the small shelter. Silas fired the gun. It seemed silent compared to the groaning the beasts were making. He kept firing and couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t hear the gun. Click, The gun was out of ammo. Click, he was screaming. He glanced at the oncoming mob. Once again the world was in slow motion in the eyes of Silas. The rotting horde had their mouths gaping and their jaws were snapping while their white eyes seemed to pin him to his place. He tried to grip the pistol again but found he had dropped it. Maybe the bible was right. Things that died were meant to stay dead.