Degeneration Read Free Page A

Or... maybe not? In any case, it was better to still be alive than to wander the streets as a zombie in search of a piece of meat to stuff in our mouths.
    Once I was in the garage, I took two boxes of cartridges off the shelf and I left them, along with the shotgun, in the passenger seat of my 4x4. Afterwards, I gave the Parabellum that I kept in the glove box to my wife and I hugged her as if it were the last time that we were going to see each other.
    "As soon as I get out, close the door and don't open it until I get back," I said to her, my voice trembling. Just before leaving, I made sure that there were no zombies in the street, but even so, my legs shook at the thought of Beatriz and Sebastian being left alone. It was almost impossible for a decomposing being to get into the house; plus, Beatriz was a good shot.  But still, I couldn't help but think that something horrible could happen during my absence.  Beatriz was a very strong woman, but I doubted her ability to keep calm when meeting face to face with one of those mutant monsters. Practicing with cans is not the same as blowing off a zombie's head as he comes near to bite you.
    With no more delay, I turned the key and directed my 4x4 to the street. I could see in the rear-view mirror that my wife had closed the garage door behind me and I sighed to calm my nerves.
    Navarrés was a small village and the trip from my house to the supermarket wasn't more than two minutes by car, especially since all the traffic had disappeared. I crossed the Rio Grande Bridge and continued driving until I was in front of the shop. The state the streets were in was devastating: muck and grime everywhere, some decomposing bodies, and several abandoned cars. Before getting out, I glanced around me: everything seemed clear; except for a few dry blood stains on one of the windows of the supermarket which called my attention. I would have to stay alert with all five senses. I took a deep breath and grabbed the shotgun. I then got out of the vehicle and cautiously went into the establishment.
    Once inside, I found signs of a struggle: some shelves were tipped over and food products were scattered about the floor. More blood. A long trail of it that went up the aisle and lead into the back room, as if someone had dragged a body to the refrigeration chambers.
    "It's not my problem," I mumbled, barely opening my mouth. I hadn't gone to the supermarket to investigate anyone's death; I only had to grab a few canned goods, some jugs of water, and then get out of there. Still, those stains were both worrying and tempting for me. What had happened there? Whose blood was that? Through clenched teeth, I decided to follow the trail.
    I cleared the way from all the debris in the aisle and I followed the blood trail to the door which separated the shop from the back room where the freezer was. I opened the heavy, steel door and drew back the plastic curtain that was behind it. The freezer's motor had stopped working and the smell of decomposition flooded over me; I was about to vomit. I could hardly see in there and I hadn't taken the flashlight with me. On the shelves I found unthinkable amounts of rotted food, things with mold and covered with repulsive worms. Despite the darkness, I continued advancing through the oppressive aisles of the freezer until I tripped over a shelf and a box of steaks fell on my head. Frightened, I turned around and shook my body to get that shit off.
    "Fuck!  How disgusting!" I exclaimed as I took handfuls of worms off my arms. Just then, a sound coming from the back of the freezer put me on alert. I was not alone inside there.
    I raised the shotgun and strained my eyes to try to see what was moving back there. Lying on the floor in the corner, I could see the body of a zombie whose legs had been cut off. He noticed my presence, opened his mouth, and let out a terrifying moan.  As he did this, he choked up a mouthful of black blood that dripped off his chin. Even in the