Zombie Hunting Encounters

Field Reporter: CAT

My first encounter with zombies was in July 2009. My Uncle and I were hunting some black-tail deer when we heard shuffling in the bushes. Thinking we were having venison tonight, my uncle and I hunkered down and waited. It wasn’t a deer. This guy had a deer leg and was eating it raw. My Uncle stood up to see what was wrong when the guy turned his attention from the deer leg, to him.

This zombie let off a god awful moan then two more showed up. The first one tried to grab my Uncle. He whacked the zombie in the head with his rifle butt and the zombie went down. Next thing I know, I’m being pulled on by the other two. Uncle yelled to get their attention then shot one in the heart, the other in the leg. They didn’t die, they went after him. Just as they were about to eat him, I sighted and shot one in the head. Uncle pushed the last one back and shot him in the head too. Not feeling up to hunting anymore we went home, after I put a bullet in the first zombie’s head.

My second zombie experience was in August 2009. It had been two weeks since my Uncle and I killed those three zombies while hunting deer. We had been thinking about what we would do. We couldn't go to the police, we were breaking the law that day and plus, who would believe that zombies were real? In the end we decided that every two weeks we would go "coyote hunting." There's no law against that, the population was growing, and the season was year round.

But before we started, Uncle and I got some tree perches, climbing gear, and machetes. Our gear packed, we headed back to the Woods, ready to hunt. Uncle scouted the area, no zombies near us. We were soon up on our perches, looking for coyotes and zombies. For the first three hours we found about ten coyotes, but no zombies. As the fourth hour came, we started wondering if we should just bag a few coyotes and call it a day. Just as we were about to go home, I spotted five of them coming. Taking our time, Uncle and I aimed for their foreheads and fired. I almost felt sorry for them, then I remembered how those other two tried to eat me and got over it. After that, Uncle and I stuck around for three or four more hours. Seeing no zombies, we got a coyote each, claimed our kills, packed our gear, and headed home.

That's how it went for the next three months. Until we made a mistake.    

It was December when I lost my Uncle. We had gotten too cocky since July. Between the two of us, we must have killed about 20 zombies. We thought our perches was too slow a way to kill zombies. So, we split up and hunted them actively on the ground. Around noon I found 4 zombies feeding. It was easy pickings.

Then I inspected the body. The face was gone, and it's guts were hanging out. I was about to continue hunting when I noticed that it had a birthmark on it's left wrist. Uncle had a birthmark on his left wrist. I looked closer and saw that it was my Uncle. The only thing I could do was make sure that he didn't become a zombie. Afterwards, I moved the zombies' bodies; good thing I had gloves, and went to the police station to report my Uncle as "missing".    

All they found 2 weeks later was bones. Since then I've worked alone, and never left my perch except to leave and go home. 



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