I thought it was over

I was wrong.

They came for me after I landed back in my own time, safe and sound. Well, sound as I could be with only one hand. That was an old injury, can't blame the primitives for that one. And we'd done pretty good with my robotic hand.

I was back in the land of microwave pizzas, five dollar movies whenever I wanted them, and where in most cases the monsters only stayed on the TV screen. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it until I heard those doors woosh open for the first time. I could have fallen to my knees and kissed the linoleum.

Of course it wasn't until after I'd been there a couple of weeks, once they'd gotten me lulled into a false sense of security, that they started attacking.

One or two here and there at first. And then they really started coming. A zombie a day, pretty soon they had their own call code over the loudspeakers. Funny thing was, people kept shopping there like nothing was wrong. I guess they figured the worse that would happen was they got zombie goo all over their shopping.

Most of the time I got them before they got anyone else. We started keeping a shotgun under every counter. Pretty good against robbers, too. The last guy we had who tried to hold up the story was unlucky enough to be around for that day's zombie attack. Poor bastard didn't stop running until he'd reached the state line.

I don't know why the zombies keep coming to the store. Maybe it was built on some ancient burial ground, and their gods are pissed. Maybe they're coming across some vortex of time and space because I stole their stupid book.

Maybe they just want a good deal on a frying pan. Who knows.

My name is Ash. I kill zombies.

Go to the top! For you have reached the bottom.