Catalyst

My zombie Jesus day zombie story!

       It just comes to the point where everything falls apart. You have built everything up into a neat little stack, and one piece sets everything off. Jenga. It all comes crashing around you. The sun, the moon, the stars are all at your feet. Nothing is sacred, nothing is left untouched.

       The thing is that it doesn’t even have to be something major that brings you into hysterics. It could be something like stubbing your toe on a cinderblock or dropping your last piece of gum in a dirty puddle. Under any other given circumstance, you could shrug it off and not give a single care. But when your girlfriend dumps you, you get fired, and you are about to lose your home, that cement block, that filthy puddle, that catalyst makes you wake up only to break down.

       But my story is nothing like that. It is bigger than that. I may sound like some pretentious a*****e when I say that, thinking that my problems are bigger than yours, but they just are. There is no room for debate. Let me explain.

 

       Manhattan was my least favorite place to be, the hustle and bustle of the morning streets, horns honking, bums begging, freaks…freaking. I felt uncomfortable in my Ford Focus, making sure to have my windows rolled up to keep out the stifling heat and trying to drown out the yells and horns. Instead, I attempted to listen to NPR, which was going on about some “zombie outbreak” in the Midwest. A smile crept across my face. The obvious answer was that they were trying to recreate the thrills of War of the Worlds, anything to save the company. There was no doubt that people would fall for it again if they did listen to NPR. However, it wasn’t the most likely situation.

       Finally, I arrived at work, sitting in my bland cubicle. There were no photos of friends or family, no art, no color. This was my life, my work. I was an accountant to a very important company and without my crunching of numbers there would be no light, no time, and no entertainment. I have tried that line on many women at bars, but for some reason, it never worked. Maybe it was my nose; it was rather large.

       “Ouien,” a woman called at the entrance of my cubicle. She was the office eye candy. She was better than all of us, no doubt about it. She was gorgeous, smart, and funny. There was no possible way that all those redeeming features could be packed into one. “Why did you come into work today?” I let out an embarrassing snort. Didn’t I tell you she was funny?

       “Because it is Tuesday, ma’am,” I responded in a light-hearted voice. Turning on my computer, I got settled for the day.

       “I thought of all people, you would know.” I turned towards her, rolling my chair closer to the entrance. A look of confusion spread across her face, her dark red hair was a mess.

       “Know what? Is it a holiday?” I glanced at my watch May 13^th. I don’t remember there ever being a holiday on this day. Maybe it was new.

       “You mean, you didn’t hear about the outbreak?”

       “Oh right, the ‘outbreak’” I put air quotations around the word and winked at her. I went to return to my computer, but her dainty heels got in the way of my rolling. “Listen, Aimee. Obviously, you have had a rough day and aren’t thinking clearly. How about you sit in my chair and I’ll bring you some coffee, ok?”

       “This isn’t a joke. It’s all over the news. They’ve advised people to stay inside, and people are being quarantined.” I let out a small chuckle. She was a convincing prank artist.

       “Well, New York seems to be fine. Everyone was going to work--”

       “Everyone was fleeing,” she interrupted. I swallowed hard. This joke was going far enough. I frightened easily, everyone knew that. I ran my hand over my stubble nervously. I had forgotten to shave this morning. I probably look like s**t. “What did you think was happening out there?”

       “New York.” I shrugged. There was no better way to put the frenzied demeanor of the entire city. “I heard about an outbreak on the radio…” I trailed off. They couldn’t have been serious, could they? “A zombie outbreak?” I asked incredulously. “This isn’t a science fiction novel, Aimee. They were obviously copying H.G. Wells’--”

       “Look outside,” she commanded. Sighing, I brushed past her to the window along the side of the giant room. There were people running everywhere, car accidents, and police sirens, well, more than usual.

       “H-how did I miss that?”

       “You f*****g tell me.” I looked back towards Aimee. “Are you that zonked out that you don’t even realize that the end of the world is coming?”

       Can you blame me? I wanted to say, but instead, I said, “Yeah, I guess so.” I ran my hands through my short brown hair. We stood there in an awkward silence as the now prominent sound of car alarms and sirens blasted through the air. “What’s the damage?” Aimee looked confused again, a new look that was not flattering on her by any means. “I heard it was in the Midwest; why are people in New York going crazy?” Her heels clicked on the floor solemnly as she went to peek out the window.

       “It’s spreading quickly,” she explained. “These aren’t your run of the mill Dawn of the Dead zombies. They’re quick, they’re smart.” Despite being uttered out so quietly, it sent chills down my spine just the same. “They want us to wait it out.” A crude laugh escaped my lips.

       “Wait it out, right, right,” I muttered, heading in the direction of the break room. Coffee sounded so good. Aimee followed me aimlessly, and I laughed inwardly at my horrible pun.

       The break room was glass encased and very small. Very few people used it, except when they wanted coffee. The chairs were uncomfortable, and the choices in the vending machine were not up to par with today’s society. Granola bars, really?

I grabbed one of the lumpy leisure chairs and banged it against the linoleum floor. Surprisingly, it refused to break. So I tried again and it fell into a few pieces.

“What are you doing?” Aimee exclaimed, shocked. I picked up one of the pieces, a leg, and moved towards the cabinet. Jumping on the counter, I weaved the leg into one of the cabinet’s handle and used the other one as support. I pushed down on the end, breaking the cheap lock and prying the cabinet open.

“If I am going to die soon in this office, I’m getting out the good coffee,” I informed her as I grabbed the Starbucks Sumatra off the shelf and jumped down.

“I have a key for that, you know?” I looked at her, her face livid at what I have done to the break room. Her arms were crossed over those perky breasts and her shiny black heels were tapping on the cheap linoleum.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have quite the same effect. I mean, it’s the zombie apocalypse, might as well go out as a bad-a*s.” I took out a coffee filter and filled it with that wonderful crushed Indonesian bean.

“Because breaking cabinets makes you a certified bad-a*s,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “The only way to get through this is in a calm and collected manner.”

“It felt empowering,” I mumbled, now pouring water into the back of the machine. Disapproving silence came from the pushy redhead. I turned the coffee pot on; the bubbling sound of heating water filled the room. Laying my head on the counter, I waited for the caffeinated drink to fill the pot. The click clack of Aimee’s shoes filled the room, followed by the blaring of the TV. Interested in the current events (how could I not be), I picked my head up slowly to see a map of the United States. The map was covered in green, except for the Midwest. Michigan, Indiana, Kentucky, Illinois, Ohio, and Tennessee were all covered by a glowing red and it was starting to spread over their borders and into the next state.

“It was just in Michigan last night,” Aimee whispered. This is the first time I ever heard her scared. She was usually fearless like the stereotypical New York business woman. Nothing fazed her with the exception of zombies, I suppose. Welcome to humanity, Aimee. “After Pennsylvania, we’re next.” Sighing, I glanced at the now halfway full coffee pot.

“Are there any other news stations broadcasting useful information? How to kill them? How it started?” I reached in a fully intact cabinet and pulled out two of the office’s chipped spare mugs.

“It started by some nuclear explosion in Lansing, some scientists trying to figure out how to create cold fission.” I poured coffee in the cups, adding a gratuitous amount of sugar to mine. She was flipping through the channels, which were mostly Emergency Broadcasts. Screams filled the room, making me jump and wheel around to the TV.

“Of course.” CNN had footage of these zombies. People tried to ward them off with guns, only to be devoured. Boarded up inside, people watched as the zombies tore apart their fellow citizens and recorded it to show the other impending cities what to expect. These zombies, despite their rotting flesh, jumped around like the parkour professionals I have seen on YouTube. They jumped on trash cans, trying to get to the people on the upper floors.

“Though dislodging heads seem to be the best way to kill these monsters,” Miss Fionnuala Sweeney spoke solemnly, before continuing, “It is best to board yourself indoors and wait until help comes.” I grabbed my coffee as more footage of the zombie attacks filled the screen. Aimee turned off the TV, disheartened by the news.

“After this coffee, we’ll start boarding up the doors and windows,” she instructed. I took a sip of my coffee and nodded.

“We should go looking for people who are seeking refuge,” I suggested, thinking of the people running around screaming outside. “And some guns, just in case.” Aimee shook her head frantically.

“We have limited rations, and the guns were probably already taken by looters. Going out there is not the best idea.” She grabbed her coffee and took a sip of it. “New York City isn’t the safest place during a regular day. I don’t even want to think what it’s like during an apocalypse.”

“Having weapons would help, just in case they…” I trailed off. My heart was heavy with the feeling of impending doom. There was no way anyone could survive this. They’d starve from being locked up or the zombies would find their way in, if they were really as smart as Aimee claimed.

“If you want to go, then do so. I don’t care. I’m just warning you that you face gunfire and being stabbed. Good luck.” She crossed her arms, huffing slightly. I dug my foot into the linoleum sheepishly.

“Right,” I whispered. “I’m going. Start boarding up the windows and such. At noon, start with the doors. I should be back by then.” I gulped down the rest of my coffee and ran towards the elevator. Pushing the button for the first floor, I listened to the elevator musak, tapping my foot impatiently. “The world is about to end, elevator! Could you speed it up a little?” I exclaimed at the inanimate object and it moved at the same pace. Sighing, I leaned against the elevator’s wall and waited. It finally slowed to a stop and the doors creaked open. Beyond the glass doors, I saw people rushing around the city in a frenzied panic and fire emitting from some really nice cows. For a split second, I thought of Aimee’s warning and my instinct told me to go back upstairs. But I straightened up, putting on a brave façade, and headed out the building. Sirens and screams filled the air, and I waved my hand in front of me, getting smoke out of my face.

I stood there stupidly for a while, thinking of what I should do next. I recall the Chinese restaurant down the street having a few samurai swords. Even if they weren’t sharp, they would provide with blunt force. But enough to fend off a hybrid zombie? It was worth a shot. I began running towards the restaurant. The people of New York were easily surpassing me. I vowed that if I survived, I would work out more, in case something like this would happen again.

I reached the restaurant and found the door locked. I didn’t know what I expected. Ramming all my body weight into the door, it fell open, the entrance bell ringing as if they had a customer. The four swords laid on the display case above the sushi bar. I ran to get them, jumping over the sushi bar.

“Hey!” someone yelled, scaring me back into the wooden bar. I turned to face the voice and found the sushi chef, an old Asian man with long gray hair and a fu man cho mustache. “You get out, thief.”

“Please, sir,” I begged. “I need the swords to protect myself and others.” The old man wobbled to me. “I am willing to pay. How much do you want?” The old man stroked his mustache.

“Four hundred,” he answered. My eyes widened. I certainly did not have that much to spare. I still needed to pay for my rent. I shook my head. Why did it even matter? My landlord would probably die anyway.

“Do you take debit?”

 

I ran out of the restaurant with the four swords cradled in my arms. I knew I had to get back to the office quickly. I was at risk for being attacked for my newly bought protection. I ran as fast as my legs allowed me when I heard a distant crying of a woman. Being the vulnerable person I was, I stopped and tried to find the woman. She was in a pile of trash in the nearby alley. Clutching a baby to her chest, she was shaking in fear. I slowly walked up to her like you would a frightened horse and kneeled in front of her.

“I can offer you safety,” I told her quietly. She crawled backwards frightened. “There is an office over there. We have provisions and we can protect you.” Her baby blue eyes watched me curiously. “Please,” I pleaded with her, knowing I would never forgive myself if I left her here to die. An explosion sounded in the distance, which seemed to make up her mind. She stood up and nodded at me.

I started back down the street, checking behind me occasionally for the woman and her child. Fires roared around us from the buildings and cars. I saw my brick office building in the distance. “It’s right there,” I informed her, pointing at my building. “We only have a little ways to go.”

When we reached the building, I let her in first and pulled the door shut behind me, locking it so no other intruders would follow us in. Aimee was boarding up windows in the next room. “I told you no more people!” she yelled, heading towards me with a hammer in hand. The woman flinched, cradling her baby’s head in a protective stance, and backed away from the crazed Aimee. When Aimee saw the child that the terrified young woman was protecting, she lowered the hammer. “Oh.” The redhead turned away and went back to work on the windows. “Put her upstairs and help me board up these windows. Bring down some desks while you’re at it.” I nodded at her instructions and led the woman to the elevator.

After the elevator doors closed, I cleared my throat. “What is her name?” I gestured to the baby in her arms. The child was surprisingly quiet, almost as if she was dead.

“Delilah,” the young woman choked out, still holding the child to her chest. I smiled softly.

“That’s a lovely name,” The elevator stopped, the doors scraping open. “We need you to stay up here while we secure the place. There is a break room in there with coffee if you would like some.” She pulled a container of formula out of her bag. “There is a sink and microwave in there too.” I pointed to the glass room. “It’s right there.” She shuffled towards the room, glancing over her shoulder occasionally.

Trying to get to a desk, I pulled the cubicle walls apart. Picture frames fell to the ground, shattering people’s memories. I dragged the desk towards the elevator, pausing to push the button to open it. I wedged the door into the path of the steel doors, keeping the doors open. I took the pieces of the cubicle walls and threw them into the elevator, thinking they would be big enough to board up the windows effectively. Shoving the desk further into the elevator, I jumped in as the doors closed. I spent the elevator ride perched on the desk. I pounced off when the doors opened and quickly slid the desk in their path. Clambering awkwardly over the desk, I began chucking out the supplies. Each board fell to the floor with a slap. I pushed the desk out, letting the doors finally close. Aimee, now barefoot, headed towards me with a screwdriver.

“Since you were so eager to go outside last time, you can go out their again,” she commanded, handing me a screwdriver. “We need the fire escapes taken out so they cannot climb up them and get in.”

“The walls are brick,” I said bluntly. “The screws will be impossible to get out.” She raised her eyebrows at me skeptically. Sighing, I headed back outdoors to get to work on the fire escapes. I figured that I would only need to remove the first few floors, so they didn’t jump up on them. I pulled down the set of stairs and climbed up solemnly. About four floors up, I started tearing everything apart. I strained against every screw, my hands getting rubbed raw from the amount of effort I put in the work. Each piece of steel fell to the floor with a ringing clatter.

After roughly two hours of work, I finally pulled out of my concentrated haze and realized that the city was strangely quiet. All the screaming had stopped and the only sounds were the gently crackling of the foundation fires started by the looters. I headed inside paranoid of any attacks coming my way. When I was inside, I saw Aimee and the young woman standing very still, shocked.

“What’s going on?” I managed to croak out, scaring the both of them. The young woman was shaking more than she was before and Aimee looked towards the ground in defeat. “What is it?” My voice quivered as I shouted at them.

“The first case hit NYC,” the young woman finally spoke. “I just saw it on the news.” I felt like the world stopped. I expected an army to bomb the zombies before it reached this far.

“Board up the door. Call your parents if they aren’t in an infected state.” I headed towards the elevator and headed upstairs. When the doors closed, I slumped to the floor. I was terrified"almost to the point of tears. Death was coming; there was no hiding from it. It was just a matter of time.

The elevator doors opened and I crawled out. I needed to call my family and say good-bye. I scratched at the back of my neck. That would be hard. I stood up and walked stiffly to the nearest phone. Bringing it up to my ears, I learned that the lines were dead. I let out a wail of distress, slamming the receiver against the desk the phone laid on. I pushed another desk into the elevator and went back downstairs. I propelled the desk out when I reached the floor.

“Ouien,” Aimee’s voice shook. I continued to push the desk until it collided with the boarded up doors. I ground my teeth in anger. None of my family would know I loved them. They would just sit in their living room, drinking tea as I was brutally eaten and turned into a zombie. What would it matter to them? I never called and said good-bye. A gentle hand placed on my shoulder. I turned to the culprit, livid.

“The phones are dead,” I growled. “No one is going to save us. We will die eventually. We will starve or be eaten. It’s over.” I was shaking in rage, glaring at the girl I saved. Instead of yelling back or showing any signs of fear, she handed me one of the swords I bought earlier.

“We can try,” she told me and helped secure the desk at the base of the door. We grabbed our swords and headed upstairs for the final time. We collected in the break room and stared at the TV screen, watching the map progressively get redder and redder. We watched it hit the tip of Florida and take over Kansas. Unsteadily, I rose from my chair, daring to go look outside. Pulling up the blinds, I saw the zombies running around the street below. Some of them were on fire from getting too close to the explosions and building fires. They jumped on top of already burnt cars and clawed at buildings, trying to get inside for some possible food. Blood laced the streets; I wouldn’t be surprised if it fell into the sewer drains as if it were puddles on a rainy day. My heart started to race and my palms began to sweat.

A cry broke through the barrier of silence, startling me out of my staring contest with the city of New York. I forgot about the baby that I saved with the young woman, who I saw shuffle to Aimee’s office. I turned back to the destruction of the city, only to have my shoulder grasped firmly. I turned around slowly to face Aimee, tears hanging from her eyelashes.

“You probably shouldn’t look at that,” she murmured. I had never seen her so broken before. She was always strong and confident, the leader. Now, in a time of destruction and death, she finally seemed…human. Pulling her into a hug, I let her cry into my light blue shirt, despite her thick eyeliner that was bound to soak into it. I caressed her hair, trying to calm her down.

“We’ll make it. The army will come with tanks and run them all over and we’ll be saved. There has to be some way they can help us.” Though, it felt like I was trying to convince myself more than I was her. I heard the shattering of glass a few floors down, making me flinch. They found a way inside. “We should get the swords.” Aimee pulled away from me and sprinted to the break room. Meanwhile, I found myself at the entrance to Aimee’s office. The young woman was feeding her child. “They-they’re inside,” I stuttered out. “I want you to lock the door and shut the blinds. Aimee and I will fight them off and board up the broken window. I am going to put a desk in front of the room. Stay in here.”

“My name is Sarah,” she whispered. “If we don’t make it--”

“We will,” I assured her before shutting the door. I moved a desk in front of the door and watched as she shut the blinds. Aimee gave me my sword and had hers tied around her waist. “Do we have a plan?” She shook her head. I scratched the nape of my neck roughly. “Okay, I will take care of the zombies, I want you to go to the first floor and get some supplies for the window. We need to board it up.” She rushed to the elevator and I took the stairs. I took out my sword and searched each floor for any sign of zombies.

I got to the fourth floor when I heard the sound of gnashing and growling. I raised the sword up ready to attack anything that jumped out at me. I crept along the hallway, glancing around corners and checking the windows for any breaks. The sounds grew louder and more disgusting. I reached the broken window where the zombie had got in, only to find that the noises were coming from outside. My heart started pounding in my ears, as I stayed in a defensive stance with the sword raised above my shoulder like a baseball bat and my legs shoulder length apart as if I was preparing to do squats.

After a few minutes of nothing happening, I lowered the sword and wondered what was taking Aimee so long. Granted, she did not know what floor I was on, so I waited for an extra fifteen minutes before I decided that this was ridiculous. She probably chickened out and stayed on the sixth floor with Sara and her child. I walked towards the elevator and pushed the button. Time seemed to slow down as the lights crept up the number line from one to four. She did go down there. I raised my sword back up just as the elevator gave its final ding and the light for floor four lit up. I held my breath as the doors slowly slid open. A figure quickly jumped at my face, and I swung the sword as hard as I could, the metal vibrating down to my arms. The thing fell to the floor, writhing on the floor, a slit in its neck, stopping halfway to the spinal cord. Bringing the sword down again and again, hacking away at its neck, the thick blood splattering my clothes. Finally, the head rolled away from the body and I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

I pushed the elevator button to go downstairs and find Aimee. My breath caught in my throat when I found Aimee lying on the floor of the elevator, intestines stringing from her open stomach. My stomach lurched and I emptied its contents onto the floor. Coughing scratched my already irritated throat; I let the door close and decided to take the stairs. I dragged my feet up each individual step until I reached the sixth floor, hoping that Sara and Delilah were all right. Falling onto the sixth floor, I realized that I was crying. Wiping my tears away with my blood soaked hands, I hoisted myself up and went to Aimee’s office, which was thankfully unscathed.

Removing the desk, I rapped at the door. “Sara!” I yelled out, my voice cracking. The door unlocked and Sara peeked through the crack of the door before opening it all the way and letting me inside.

“What happened?” she cried, noticing the blood splattered all over my clothing and face. I ran my hand through my hair nervously.

“Aimee’s dead, eaten. I killed the zombie,” I said stoically. I collapsed on the floor, exhausted from the eventful day. I didn’t want to do this anymore.

“Did you cut off their heads?”

“There was only one zombie,” I explained, my eyes drooping shut.

“You didn’t chop off Aimee’s head?” she exclaimed, the volume of her voice waking the child. “She’s going to turn into a zombie. You need to go back out there!” She picked Delilah up, cooing at her softly. “Go,” she commanded in a softer voice. “Or we’ll have her yanking at the door next.” Sighing, I grabbed the sword and went back to the main room. I lugged the sword behind me, reaching the elevator. Once more, I pushed the button and waited for the elevator to arrive. It dinged at the floor and began to open.

“Okay, Aimee, this won’t hurt that much,” I said to the doors, only to find that the corpse was not behind them. There was a pool of blood, but no Aimee. “F**k,” I groaned. “F**k, f**k, f**k, f**k.” I slammed the sword against the wall. “F**k this day.” I ran down the stairs to the fourth floor. Pushing the door open, I stumbled onto the carpeted floor. Straightening up, I tightened my grip on the hilt of the sword and slunk around the hallway. Blood decorated the walls, Aimee was definitely here. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I continued my search. I stepped over the decapitated zombie and realized that Aimee was no longer here. I sighed and slung the sword over my shoulder.

I walked to Aimee’s office again, finding the door opened. Sara should have known that we were still in peril with Aimee’s head still attached to her body. I walked in to find Aimee’s face buried in Sara’s stomach, chomping and slurping her insides. I felt like getting sick again but managed to raise the sword over my head. I chopped at her head, being splattered with blood once more. After getting rid of the Aimee threat, I moved onto the dead corpse of Sara. When I finished eliminating all the possible, and probable, problems, Delilah’s cries reached my ears.

I removed my shirt before scooping her up into my arms. I rocked her in my arms as I cried. It was over. Delilah didn’t have a mother, I had no friends, there was no one left. I stroked the baby’s cheek. There was no life for us here. There was only one possible way for us to escape the doom of being a zombie.

 

We took the elevator up to the roof, the child now staying still in revered silence. I caressed it absentmindedly as I stared into nothingness. I never wanted to be known for killing two women and an infant. I wasn’t one of those guys you saw on the Biography channel, one of the ravenous, murderous lunatics. The elevator stopped on the roof and I stepped out, finally confident that I knew what I was doing. The breeze lightly lapped at my face and sirens sang a sweet lullaby in the distance. I sat on the edge; I knew if I looked down, I would never be able to do it.

“Delilah,” I cooed to the child. “Your mother would have never wished this for you. But I know she would not want you to be a zombie either.” I ran my fingers through the baby’s dark hair. “I feel like this is the only choice.” I took a deep breath, readying myself to lean back a little too far and fall to a death of my choosing.

The stair doors slammed open and the SWAT team came in with their guns raised. “Sir,” one of them called to me. “You are safe now. A helicopter is now on its way to fly you to safety.” A harsh, dry laugh found its way out of my throat. “Give us the child, and we’ll take you somewhere safe.”

“Where?” I croaked out.

“Ireland,” he answered in his deep, authoritative voice. “The sickness isn’t there. We’re clearing out the country to bomb it. We’re going to get rid of the zombies.” I held out Delilah to the officers, who took her quickly. Delilah’s screams filled the air, as I imagined her mother’s did as she was being eaten alive by my colleague. I took them both in and doomed them both. Sara was dead and Delilah was forever an orphan. Delilah, my catalyst.

“Her name is Delilah.” I smiled softly. I leaned back and flew through the airs, screams crying after me. The wind flowed through my brown locks. I prepared for myself for the impact. Death doesn’t hurt at all.

Reviews

[MR_BERG]

The start was a little hard for me to chew on. A hoax on NPR? How dim is this guy? The story improved greatly as he became a believer. Great details. The city went from chaos to deserted way too fast.

Small note: Sarah became Sara after she said her name.

[Spookers]

This is totally awesome. I especially love the ending. Totally did not expect him to jump off the building at all.

[Vanessa Rico]

This story gave me chills...and most likely nightmares when I finally decide to go to bed. Truth be told, I really thought that Delilah would be some zombie baby, which to me is frightening! Your writing amazes me, and I wish I could write more like this. The flow was beautiful and quickly went from one scene to the next flawlessly. Your attention to details is what kept me reading til the very end. Very well-written and bone chilling! LOL I truly hate zombies too! I swear I have a whole detailed plan if I am ever attacked by zombies!

[Matthew Smith]

-"my watch(,) May 13th."
-Lol, gratuitous amounts of sugar! That made me think of Powerthirst.
-"you can go out the(re) again,”
-"I headed inside(,) paranoid of any attacks
-I expected (the) (A)rmy to bomb
- A gentle hand placed on my shoulder. - I'd suggest changing "placed". It's odd.
-The (A)rmy will come with tanks
-I leaned back and flew through the (air).

That was really good! From what I saw, it was well-written--I couldn't find many mistakes at all.

The only real issue I noticed is a slight notion of it being rushed there at the end, but nothing that's horrendous, since it's a short story. If anything, going through, extending the piece by adding little bits like "and the next day", just generally increasing the in-story timeframe, would help this out. Had a little chuckle at the store scene, not sure if that was meant to be comical. Something about a sword-wielding, white-collar zombie slayer is funny, too.