Chapter Two

I drove off, making sure to keep my eyes on the road. I started to hum a song that my mom sang to me when her heart was still beating. Let it be by The Beatles. I could never remember the words, but always the rhythm. When the zombie apcolypse first happened all I could think was please let Paul McCartney survive. He did of what I remember.
     I was eight when they put the rick people in their own private community  in some other country. Leaving middle class and homeless people to fend for their own. But my dad was a master at killing and fighting with or without weapons. Teaching my brother and I everything we know. When I was twelve my mom taught me how to drive a car and survive in the wild. "Why do we have to learn this when your going to be here forever?" I asked one day.
     "Well honey, there will be a time when we won't be here to take care of you and your brother." I shrugged it off, but two years later when I was fourteen they go eaten alive by a hoard of zombies. In front of my brother and I. We both weren't the same after that.
                                       ***********
   "What state are we in?" I asked a man on the street.
   He tilted his head up and looked at the sun. "If I do know anything, I would have to say Georgia. But what can this ole' geezer remember?" the little old man chuckled.
     I smile. "You be needin' a ride?"
     "Nope," he licked his lips. "My cottage is right over there." and he pointed to an area not visible from my direction, because of the trees.
     "Well good day then." I said.
     "Good day." and he was walking into the woods.
                                 ********************
                              Welcome to Florida
 No zombies so far, I thought to myself. I drove about fifteen miles when I saw it. A hoard of zombies circling around something or someone. Usually I wouldn't stop but there were god to many zombies. "Really?"