My Friend Frankenstein
1月25日 (月ー火) 12:00am JST
“Unnf!”
“Oh good, Frankenstein, you’re home.”
“Ummmph!”
“I thought I told you to come home before night fall.”
“Mmmeh-uh!”
“What took you so long? I was worr…”
Just then, I finally turned from the stove to look at him. His eyes— never particularly expressive— they were dead. I knew in an instant the Frankenstein I knew and loved was gone, and in his place there was a monster. Frankenstein was a zombie!
I’m not sure why or how, but it seems that I may be the last person alive on earth. Well, depending on one’s definition of alive. It all started a little less than a month ago. No one knows the reason (by which, I mean I don’t know the reason), but for some reason, the dead started walking (limping) the earth as zombies. All intact corpses dug their ways out of graves and after that fateful day, anyone who passed away by any means became a zombie as well. Needless to say, before long malls, pubs, news stations, coma wards— any place that people gather— had been overrun by flesh eating zombies. I was here in Japan, so things weren’t too bad at first. Pretty much all the corpses here were cremated, so it wasn’t too bad at first. Of course, this was before we knew that zombies are pretty good at crossing large bodies of water, since they don’t need air. Not that it really mattered. After a few days, all the old kimono wearing grannies started kicking the bucket, and though every effort was made to pulverize their remains, there was only so much the military could do. First, the mega-cities became seeded with a few zombies in each super-block, and then things proceeded geometrically, as those fleeing the now zombie-infested cities would accidentally trample someone to death in the stampede or get in a car crash or, heaven forfend, derail a train. So, Japan basically made it to the end of the week before it was clear that we were as doomed as the rest of the planet.
I would have be killed too, except that I met Frankenstein. Frankenstein saved my life.
1月30日 (土ー日) 2:18 am JST
As the news broke that zombies were roaming the earth, panic set in pretty quick amongst the populace. They tried to play it cool on TV, up until the zombies would sneak into the newsrooms and start eating brains on camera. For a while, there were HAM radio contacts and internet sites, but those died out in a surprisingly short amount of time. In particular, I imagine that zombies have some kind of bunker honing instinct, because you’d always hear some guy bragging out his ten year supply of MREs up until the zombies dug their way in and ate everyone alive. I had really high hopes for the guys on the space station, but apparently the zombies trashed mission control, which led to some pretty bleak broadcasts.
So, to my personal knowledge, I am the last person alive. But, with Frankenstein gone, it’s just a matter of time until I go, too.
How Frankenstein and I met was a bit of a coincidence. I was fleeing down a deserted road towards the mountains, when I saw some sort of conflagration up ahead. I should have turned and drove away, but before I had a chance, I looked and saw something incredible. Frankenstein ripped the skulls off of at least ten or so zombies, while I stood petrified. Then, he looked over at me and started to charge.
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