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I didn't bother with raising it, I instead held it at my waist and squeezed the trigger, sending a buckshot into his stomach.

I

I'd drop the gun, and walk over to him.

I'd grab his head by his hair, and drag his struggling body over to my table, and once again, kick his back.

I'd grip his hair, and start slamming his forehead onto the edge of the square shaped table, until his skull was cracked, and blood was pouring out.

I boarded up my windows and watched as the chaos erupted through the streets near my tiny New York apartment.

I quickly ran to my door and locked it and I sat on my couch and turned on the TV.

Reports of the new virus were all over the news and the even bigger threat is that it was spreading like wildfire, and it didn't exactly help that I was in the biggest city in North America.

I'd hope there wasn't another looter,

(The...dying...dead..?)

(Shit, i forgot about this.)