So, my friends wanted me to write them a short story about zombies. This is the prologue and stuff. Suckish? Maybe. So yeah... [b]The End Is the Beginning[/b] Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a dark wood, For the straight and narrow path had been lost. - Dante’s Divine Comedy Paraíso Olvidado, El Salvador. 10:10 AM. “Alejandro! Consigue tu trasero aquí!” Gun shots ring over the small community, each blast a chilling and ringing reminder of the sins that had been committed against God. Women silently weep, children hiding their heads in their mother’s bosoms. [i]What have we done to deserve this, Father?[/i] Alejandro, a young Hispanic of 22, pondered what had happened to this small village as he tightly held onto his Walther P99 behind the ruins of what used to be his home. The gun had been a gift from his father, a man who had always seemed to have had a soft spot in his heart for a good gun. [i]At…at least he isn’t here to see this…Oh Lord…[/i] The young man peeped out from behind his cover to see if the muerto maldito hadn’t heard his idiot brother’s shout. Thankfully – if one could even give thanks in this disaster – none of the droning men had heard Luis. Luis, two years his junior, had always been the fool of the family and, naturally, had no clue what he was doing. “Luis!” Alejandro hissed, turning to his brother, who also hidden, sat 10 or so feet away from him. “Matar a los gritos!” [i]Idiot! We could be dead any minute… and he has the gall to yell?![/i] “Tenemos que llegar al puerto de ASAP!” Alejandro peeped over his small shelter again, feeling queasy just looking at their numbers. Twenty? Fifty? One hundred? Regardless, the two needed to get out of Paraíso Olvidado in order to meet up with Marty at the port so they could set sail away from this hell-on-earth. Marty, a boatman and veteran of Vietnam well into his 50’s had been a friend of their father’s for years and occasionally came to visit the village when possible. God forbid what would have happened if Marty hadn’t arrived last week. “¿Cuántas balas de la izquierda?” Luis hissed, finally listening to his brother’s advice for once. Alejandro felt through his pocket and turned to his shaking brother. “20. Al menos 20 ...” Luis nodded and pointed toward his gun. “12 para mí.” Alejandro nodded then once again peeped out of his shelter. The maldito appeared to be heading in the opposite direction of the port, which seemed to be the only good news for the entire day. The port, Pensamientos de Recorrido, was about two and a half miles away, give or take a bit. If the two could quickly and quietly move past the rubble houses, perhaps they could then make a run for it with the large brush near the port as cover? Alejandro nodded to himself, and let his hand clench the cross necklace around his neck. After quietly informing his brother of his plan, the two both peeped out, trying to find a spot in the horde with the least amount of people ergo the least amount of being seen. They waited for what seemed like days but were merely minutes. “Psst! Alejandro!” The older brother, who had put his head down for a second, quickly looked back up and saw that the maldito’s numbers had started to wane. “Marty dijo que estaba dejando en cuarto a 11,” Luis reminded his brother, peeping out from cover once more. Alejandro checked his wristwatch. 10:34 and counting. “Vamos a mover.” Quickly and silently, the two dashed to the next pile of rubble, this time with each brother next to the other. They listened quietly for the wails of maldito, something they had begun to learn over the course of their appearance. Nothing. “Tres…dos…uno!” Alejandro hissed, as the two once again dashed toward the next pile of rubble. Slowly, the older of the two brought his head up, eyes waiting to see the maldito staring back at him. Nothing though. They continued to move on their hellish journey; ever wandering in search of…He couldn’t bare to think of it. 11:28 Gasping, Alejandro continued to run through the somewhat thick brush with Luis right on his heels. Please, Father…let Marty be there! The two continued to dash through the sand and brush, jumping over debris and bodies alike. There was no time to stop or see if the maldito had followed them. Their moans, whether a sign of their misery or reaction to seeing them, filled the relatively quiet air now. As the brush began to clear, the two picked up their pace as the moans began to get louder. They had spotted them. [i]No! Damn it! No! [/i]The only piece of thankfulness that could be thought of was the fact that escape was near and the maldito could walk and not run for some bizarre reason. A smile, though it felt wrong to do it, passed Alejandro’s face as he heard a blowhorn coming from the direction ahead of him. [i]Yes! YES! We’re going to make it! Hang on, Marty![/i] Luis seemed to realize this as well as he seemed to be softly chuckling to himself as well. Perhaps God had been on their side the entire time. After all, did the priests not say He worked in mysterious ways? As the two broke out of the brush, and onto the piers, they began to look out for Marty’s boat. A well-sized ship with a topless woman painted onto the side. Bingo. There, near the front, sat the ship with Marty visible from the window leading into the cockpit. “Marty! Start her up, amigo!” Luis cried, only knowing how to speak English thanks to his father and brother. Also, there didn’t seem to be any maldito in sight, so that was a blessing as well. The two quickly got to the boat and jumped aboard. Alejandro immediately went to the rope tying the boat to the pier and unknotted it, his fingers shaking with fear and joy. [i]We’re actually going to make it![/i] As the boat began to sail off, the maldito from earlier began to stagger out of the brush they had just come from, each one having the teeth of a tiger, the eyes of the dead, and the face of the devil. “Take THIS, you damn walkers!” Luis shot two rounds into the awaiting heads of the maldito, each one having its head whip back and fall dead to the ground. “Haha! Yeah! You see this, you jackasses?! We WON! Suck it! YEAAAHHHHH!!!” Luis fired another round into the air and wooped for joy. They had made it out. Alejandro normally would slapped Luis upside the head for wasting ammo but, for now, he’d let him have this moment. After all this chaos, all this misery and death, they had escaped. They had seen the gates of Hell and its sign warning those to abandon hope, and they had gotten out alive. What a glorious day…Tears came to Alejandro and a huge grin swept across his face. “Let’s check on our good ol’ buddy, Marty, eh Luis?” Alejandro grinned as he spoke the words loud enough for Marty to hear. Laughing and pushing the safety button on his handgun, he walked into the cockpit to await what their father’s good friend had to say. “Well Marty, we did it…” he said, Luis still outside and shouting like a crazy fool. “Thank you. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Marty, in his old and torn Navy outfit, just continued to look ahead with both hands tight on the wheel. “Quiet, old man? Huh. I’d expect you to out there with Luis!” Alejandro chuckled and put a hand on Marty’s shoulder. Alejandro’s face froze as he realized how wet his “old buddy’s” shoulder was. Alejandro slowly pulled his hand back, hoping that what was happening wasn’t what he thought. Blood. No. No, we were home free… As he thought this, he heard a low moan come from Marty. Reaching for his gun, Marty quickly turned and opened his mouth wide and lunged towards Alejandro. The young quickly tried firing his gun then remembered he had put the safety on. [i]NO! DAMMIT! NO! GOD!! HELP ME!! [/i]All these thoughts rushed through his head Marty bit into his neck, pulling away his flesh and meat. “LUIS!” Alejandro screamed and screamed, waiting for his brother to come to his rescue. Alejandro was able to take one last glimpse out of the window before losing himself forever. A band of maldito, who had followed them off of the pier, were now pulling an unconscious Luis off of the boat. “No…Please…NOOO!” Alejandro’s moans were soon lowered and then hushed as Marty continued to feed on him.