Untitled Part One - i've got drugs (out of the mist)

The man on the ground was dead. The fact that he wasn't moving and the large stick stuck in his forehead proved this, at least to George. Richard (Big Dick to his friends) wasn't so sure and gave him a swift kick to the side. Annie screamed and hit him in the face. George laughed and side stepped as Dick came running at him in a rage, putting his foot out so the big dummy would trip and fall, which of course he did, falling face first onto the sand. Then he got up and ran back up the beach to the little cabin in the woods. He was crying. George picked at his teeth and laughed again. Big fucking dummy, he thought, big fucking crybaby dummy. Annie sat looking at the patterns on her faded yellow dress.

The man on the ground in the cheap grey suit did not comment on if the situation was funny or not and lay looking up at the sky the same as before. A single housefly landed on his eyeball and he did not blink. Soon there would be many flies, and maggots, and rotting flesh. But for now he was content to just lay on the sand and enjoy the sun. It wasn't like he could get up anyways. He decided that even though being dead wasn't a whole lot of fun, at least he didn't have to pull himself out of bed to go to work in the early morning or try to patch things up with his wife anymore. He had an excuse to just lay and do nothing. He was living the American dream.
George decided a walk down the beach was in order and started to stroll off in a random direction. Annie just sat and said nothing. Normally she would have run after him, but he guessed the dead man changed everything. No big loss. He was tired of looking at the skinny bitch anyways. He was glad the man had come begging for food. At least it changed things. George couldn't stand things growing stale. He sat on a rock and watched the waves lap at the shore. He was alive and that was all that mattered. He was alive while almost everyone in the world was dead. The other two crybaby retards up the beach could all go fuck themselves for all he cared. George picked up a stick and threw it, watching it land on the water, making ripples that spread out before vanishing into nothingness. They could all go fuck themselves except that they had food, lots and lots of food. He supposed he could take some of it and run but Dick wouldn't let him. George thought he could take the big stupid dolt in a fight, but they'd both probably both get injured or killed. It was best that they all stuck together anyways. For now. He sighed and ran a hand through his greasy black hair. A seagull landed on a rotted fish and proceeded to pluck out its eye. George smiled and lit up a blunt, enjoying the dizzy feeling that immediately overtook his brain. The man's name had been Jack...

Annie was thinking about killing herself. She thought about that a lot, ever since the mist came and took everyone away. She looked at her skinny wrists, examining the veins and tendons. Would it be that hard to just slice them all with a razor? There was no hospital anymore that would save her life, no counselors that she would have to see afterwards, she could just lay down somewhere and die. George kept saying that being alive was all that mattered, that they were lucky. Richard said they were God's chosen people. To Annie it all seemed so pointless, the three of them living here in this rundown shack, what kind of a life was this? She looked at the man again. What was his name? He had said it was Rosy something. Rosy John? He had clearly been insane. When they had said they couldn't spare any food he had flown into a rage. George took care of that pretty quickly. She wasn't in love with him anymore. She had thought she was but the look in in his eyes when he had stabbed the man in the head and smashed his ribs with his boots had changed everything. He had enjoyed it, the sick son of a bitch. She looked down at her wrists again. It would would be so easy to do. So fucking easy. She sighed and decided to go check on Rich. If she didn't go calm him down he might do something stupid. She brushed the sand off her dress and walked up the beach.

Rosy Jack Johnson stared up at the sun and the sun stared back down at Rosy Jack Johnson, killed by a group of Jr. high schoolers just because he was starving and wanted some food. It really wasn't fair but he was dead and it was hard to be angry. A few more flies buzzed by his scarred face. It wouldn't be long now...