The Beginning of the Zombie Apocalypse – Part 1

It all started the day before yesterday. I was sitting with two friends in a bar called “Rock”. That night, Mark felt like drinking himself unconscious. Walter, always up for this kind of thing, confidently declared he would keep up with him. I joined as much as I could, though I was already imagining my girlfriend screaming at me when I got home.

“Don’t worry, she’ll yell and then stop. Then there will be a few quiet days and everything will go back to normal,” Mark said, trying to calm me.

Yeah, I knew he was probably right. And anyway, why should I care about what would happen in a few hours.

Mark had a reason to drink. A strange one. The man his mother lived with had suddenly gone insane. Victor, that was his name, had simply lost his mind. No clear reason. Just like that.

It was hard not to like the guy. Mark treated him like the father he had always wanted. That’s why what happened two days earlier hit him so hard. Not to mention his mother, Sophia.

We sat there talking. Walter and I tried to comfort him somehow, but it didn’t really work.

After the fourth beer, we ordered two shots of vodka. Twenty minutes later, Mark started telling us about the last hours of his stepfather’s normal life. He had heard everything from his mother. He also made it clear that no one else could find out about this, so Walter and I promised to keep quiet.

“Fuck, I’m telling you,” Mark began, “at first I didn’t believe it myself. But I know my mom. She doesn’t exaggerate, she doesn’t make things up. But what she told me… it just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Will you finally say what happened?” Walter snapped.

“Victor saw something through the window the day before. Mom doesn’t know what it was. But he immediately left the house. After that, he started acting strange. Different. The only thing he cared about was sitting in front of the computer and browsing the internet.”

“I don’t see anything strange about that,” I said with a smirk.

“You’re saying that because you didn’t know him. He didn’t give a shit about the internet. He preferred going to the store and spending money on newspapers instead of sitting in front of a screen and, as he used to say, ‘mindlessly clicking on a keyboard.’ That was him. And suddenly he’s drinking coffee after coffee and not leaving the computer. The next day, as soon as it got dark, he went out again. And when they found him… it was already over.”

“Is it true he was sitting by the cemetery gate, mumbling to himself?”

“Yeah. And since then, there’s no contact with him.”

“Did you check the websites he was visiting?”

“Of course. That was the first thing I did. They were all about occult stuff, bringing the dead back, the history of cemeteries in our city, and environmental contamination. Two of them belonged to chemical companies. I think ‘Mirwex’ and ‘Cobad’ or something like that.”

“Those are some of the biggest chemical companies in Europe. But what does any of that have to do with each other?” Walter asked.

“Exactly. I have no idea. But that’s what I’m going to find out.”

“Yeah? And how exactly are you planning to do that?”

“I’m going to the cemetery tonight. Victor was especially interested in the old section. There has to be something there. A clue. Maybe even the answer.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Walter shouted. “We’re supposed to get drunk, not wander around a cemetery.”

“Then don’t go. Am I forcing you?”

“Don’t count on me either,” I said, finishing another shot.

Later in the conversation, we also learned that four days earlier there had been an accident near the cemetery. Two tanker trucks belonging to those companies had collided. According to officials, everything had been secured and there was no contamination. Of course, until three in the morning we talked only about Victor. We didn’t come up with any solution. Shortly after that, we left the bar as the last customers, barely able to walk straight.

Completely drunk, Walter and I decided to walk Mark home first. He might actually go to the cemetery, and in that state he would only end up with a few bruises.

I’ll skip all the usual stories people tell about cemeteries. Clothes getting caught on crosses or benches, people falling into open graves. Especially the first ones often ended in death. Usually a heart attack. A guy gets his scarf caught and immediately thinks something grabbed him from the grave.

We walked Mark right to his apartment door. Then we went home.

The next day I woke up to an ominous silence. I could hear Nicole moving around the apartment, but she didn’t comment on what happened the night before. Thank God. It took me a while to recover. I checked the time. Late afternoon. Didn’t matter. The whole day was for recovery anyway.

About twenty minutes later, I decided to get some fresh air and buy some water. I was putting on my jacket when Nicole blocked the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked sharply.

“To the store. And for a walk.”

“Yeah? And where exactly are you planning to walk?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Was Mark drinking with you yesterday?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You could have at least made sure he got home!”

“We did. What are you talking about?”

“Then you must have walked him to the wrong place, because he never made it home.”

I was already tired of this conversation.

“Alright. What happened?” I asked.

“He disappeared. They only found his bloodstained jacket. It was lying near the cemetery gate.”

“Fuck… we walked him right to his door…”

“Monica called this morning, crying and—”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I ran out of the apartment and went straight to Walter’s place. He didn’t know anything.

“We’re not leaving it like this.”

“Of course not. We’re going to that damn cemetery. Everything points there.”

As soon as we crossed the gate, I felt a foul smell. I looked around, but it seemed like I was the only one who noticed it. People walked between the graves like nothing was wrong. They were in the newer part. We headed for the old section.

I remembered the stories about that place. Ghosts. Shadows. Things people shouldn’t see.

As soon as we crossed into the old section, the smell got stronger. I asked Walter if he could smell anything.

“Nothing at all,” he said.

He didn’t look happy. Walking around a cemetery with a hangover isn’t exactly pleasant.

I noticed some disturbed ground near a few graves. Years ago there were grave robbers digging for valuables. But that was long ago. And this didn’t look like that.

We walked slowly. Nothing, except those disturbed spots. We passed large crypts. Black crows sat on their roofs, occasionally cawing. It was getting dark. The atmosphere grew heavier.

“We won’t find anything here. Let’s get out,” Walter said nervously.

“Wait. I’m sure something is here.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think we want to find it. And it’s getting dark. Mark isn’t here.”

He was right. Mark wasn’t there.

I decided I would come back later. Alone.

Walter was clearly scared. He kept looking around like something might jump out at any moment. Around eleven, despite Nicole’s protests, I left the apartment again.

The fog was worse now. Thicker. By the time I reached the cemetery, it had grown dense. I hesitated at the gate, wondering if I was making a mistake. Victor lost his mind after coming here. Mark’s jacket was found here. But I went in anyway.

The smell hit me immediately. Stronger than before.

I walked quietly between the graves. It felt ridiculous. Who would even be here?

Then I heard movement near a grave. I stopped. Looked. Nothing.

Probably an animal.

I kept going.

An owl called from somewhere above me. Then again. This time I also heard crows responding.

I passed the place where we had turned back earlier. The fog thickened even more.

I should have brought a flashlight.

There was almost no light here. Old lamps barely glowing. Every few meters, darkness swallowed everything again.

Then I heard something ahead.

My breathing quickened. My heart pounded.

I froze.

The sound was like shoes dragging on the ground. Moving away.

I followed it.

The fog thinned slightly. I could see shapes now. Graves. Statues. Angels with spread wings.

Then I saw it.

A small chapel, dimly lit, partly hidden behind a weeping willow.

A figure disappeared inside.

A moment later, I heard the door slam shut.

I moved closer. Slowly. Carefully.

My legs felt weak. Breathing was difficult.

The smell was unbearable.

I stood in front of the door, hesitating.

Then I grabbed the handle.

And pulled.

The door opened slightly.

I leaned in.

At first, I heard wet sounds.

Chewing. Slurping.

Then I saw the body.

Mangled. Lying on the floor.

And several figures kneeling over it.

Eating.

They were tearing it apart. Stuffing its insides into their mouths.

My chin started trembling.

One of them raised its head.

Our eyes met.

Fuck.

It was a corpse.

Its face was half rotten. Its skin decayed.

It made a low, guttural sound.

The others looked at me.

Several pairs of dead, rotting eyes.

Then suddenly—

they all rushed toward me.

I let go of the door and ran.

The Night It Started 

I ran as fast as I could, not even looking where I was going, just trying to get away from them, hearing them right behind me, only a few meters away, dragging their feet, choking, making those wet, broken sounds that didn’t belong to anything alive, and even though they were slower, they were close enough that I could feel it, that cold pressure on my back, like something reaching for me in the dark. My lungs were burning, my legs were giving out, but somehow I kept moving, and when I finally saw the gate ahead, it felt unreal, like I wouldn’t make it, like something would grab me just before I got there. The fog had dropped low, hugging the ground, and just as I reached the exit, something stepped in front of me. A man, or what used to be a man, his intestines hanging out of his stomach, swaying as he moved. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I turned and ran to the left, away from it, away from everything.

A few meters further, I saw another figure, standing over a grave, slowly swaying. When it heard me, it turned. It was Mark. But not really. His clothes were soaked in blood, his face torn apart, lifeless, yet moving. I didn’t think. I just ran again, cutting into one of the side paths, while somewhere beyond the cemetery gate I heard a scream. Sharp. Short. Then cut off. They had already reached the streets.

I don’t know where I found the strength, but I made it to the far end of the cemetery. I looked back once. Nothing behind me. For now. The gate on that side was locked. I had no choice. I climbed over it, barely managing to pull myself up, my hands slipping, my body shaking. When I landed on the other side, I almost collapsed. I stood there for a moment, trying to breathe, trying to slow my heart, but it wouldn’t stop pounding.

I had to get home.

I started running again, not full speed this time, just enough to keep moving without collapsing. When I reached the street near the cemetery entrance, I froze. In the middle of the road stood two cars and a night bus. I remember the number. N62. From inside the bus came screams, muffled now, drowned out by something else. Wet sounds. Struggling. Begging. On the road, there were bodies. And around them, figures crouched, feeding. Tearing. Eating.

I backed away, then turned and ran down side streets, staying low, staying quiet. I didn’t stop until I reached my building. The area was still calm. They hadn’t reached it yet. I slammed the door behind me, locked everything, one lock after another, my hands shaking. Nicole appeared behind me like a ghost.

“Have you completely lost your mind?”

“They’re coming,” I said. “They’ll be here any minute. How much food do we have? I need to call the police.”

She looked at me like I was insane. Maybe I did look that way.

I grabbed my phone and called emergency services. After what felt like forever, someone picked up. I told them everything. The dead rising. Attacking people. The city in danger. There was silence on the other end.

“Alright, we’ve received your report. We’ll verify it shortly.”

“No, you don’t understand. In a few minutes it will be too late. They’ll wipe out the whole city, then the country, and then—”

The call ended.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Nicole snapped. “What did you drink yesterday? Are you hallucinating?”

“I’m telling you the truth. I was there. First with Walter, then alone. That’s when it started.”

There was no way to convince her. We would have kept arguing if not for the explosions. Loud. Close. Seconds later, sirens filled the streets. Police. Fire trucks. Ambulances.

We went out onto the balcony. So did everyone else in the building. Below us, cars were burning, crashed into each other. Three tanker trucks were on fire, their contents leaking into the air. People were running in panic. No one understood what was happening. Some officers opened fire. It did nothing. The bullets meant nothing unless they hit the head. The things kept moving. Kept attacking. When they caught someone, they tore into them immediately.

At first people just stared. Then they started screaming. Crying. Breaking down. No one knew what to do.

Everything collapsed fast. Within less than an hour, the dead flooded the city. News channels tried to broadcast live, showing the chaos, the failed attempts to stop them. Only later did someone realize that destroying the head worked. But by then it was too late. There were too many of them.

Broadcast crews died on camera. Panic turned into hysteria. People tried to escape the city. The roads clogged instantly. Cars trapped everywhere. No way out. Those stuck in traffic had no chance. Surrounded. Nowhere to run. The roads became death traps.

At first, the bitten were taken to hospitals or temporary safe zones. But there weren’t enough places. They were transported to other cities. It didn’t matter. Within two or three hours, they died and came back, spreading it further. One city fell, then another, then another.

I saw one of them turn myself. It took only minutes. I still don’t know what determines how fast it happens.

We stayed inside. As long as the internet worked, Nicole tried contacting her parents, friends, anyone. A few replied. They said they hid instead of evacuating. Those who tried to leave didn’t make it. No one survived.

There was no evacuation in our district. No military. Nothing. Everything fell apart.

Soon, people started forming gangs. Looters. Thieves. Thinking they could profit from the chaos. One by one, they died. Or worse. Became part of it.

It’s strange. Even with death everywhere, people still think about money.

Two days have passed.

We rationed food carefully, but supplies are running out. Neither of us expected anything like this. Sooner or later, I’ll have to leave the apartment. I’ll go alone. Nicole stays here.

I’m thinking I’ll check nearby apartments first. Maybe I’ll find food. Maybe something I can use as a weapon. All I have is a baseball bat.

I try not to think beyond stepping outside.

I keep hoping help will come.

But we’ve been hoping for hours now.

Nothing changes.

Nicole is falling apart. She cries all the time, saying we’re going to die. I understand her. It’s not helping, but I understand.

We closed all the windows. Still, the sounds get in. Groans. Low, restless noises. They only move when they see something alive. Otherwise, they just stand there. Waiting.

Sometimes I step out onto the balcony.

I still can’t believe it’s real.

Cars blocking the streets. Blood everywhere. And them.

Dozens. Hundreds.

Slow. Hungry.

They even try to catch birds, or stray animals. They can’t. Not yet.

The TV is dead. The radio too. Phones don’t work. The power went out two hours ago. There’s still water for now. We filled everything we could.

In a moment, I’ll start preparing to go outside for the first time.

I’m scared.

But we don’t have a choice.

If we want to survive, we have to eat.

And from what I can see… leaving this apartment is only a matter of time.