How I Survived the First Twenty Days of the Zombie Apocalypse

A Story by lebonheur

The end of the world is here and the infestation of zombies is upon us. This is James' story. Or the first twenty days for now.

Day 1

The virus that created the outbreak is called the Polynova-A Virus but that's all I know. I don’t know how the name came about, what it means or how it started. I don't think anyone does just yet. Anyway, how rude of me, I'm James Matheson and I'm travelling with -once six- five other people: three men and two women. My old buddy Tom was once part of our group too. They're nice people and we get on well, or at least as well as a group of people hope to get on when the apocalypse starts. Or maybe it's not an apocalypse, just some crazy people meeting more crazy people and eating everybody. I just turned twenty-four in January and now I'm scared I'm going to die. I don't know where my family is or where my friends are, and my dog is missing; they're all people I'm out looking for, maybe I'll come across them on this crazy journey. I don't really know how else to introduce myself, and if I'm being honest I'm not really that interesting, and when it's the end of the world I'm sure you don't want a meet and greet with strangers.
So, this all began about twenty days ago if I'm calculating correctly. I was in my house watching Frankenstein when I heard a big commotion outside. I thought at first it was my neighbours drunk ex-wife making her return weekly visit, but, when I peeked out of the window I saw a crazy guy breaking into a car. In fact there was a bunch of crazy guys breaking into a bunch of cars. I didn't really know what to do. It wasn't normal behavior from my neighbours, and there was a point I thought I was actually in a friend's house where this sort of behavior might be deemed 'normal' in his neighbourhood, but then I was sure I wasn't when I saw Claudia Smith running over to Peter's (another neighbour) house. This is where it got weird. As she was running over to his door one of the zombies saw her and stopped what it was doing -in this case it stopped breaking into the car, which was probably a good thing- and started to follow her. When Claudia arrived at Peter's door she banged it with her fist, kicked it. But he wouldn't answer. I don't actually know if anyone was in, I hadn't seen him for a while but I didn't have the courage to run out and say to her. I felt bad, but there was nothing I could do. Next thing, the zombie that followed her caught up and started biting her, she's screaming for help, then the next she's not. WAIT, that wasn't the really weird part. After they guy bit her I closed the curtain and stood at my window terrified. I didn't know what the hell to do, or if they would smell me out and come after me, so I ran upstairs to my bedroom and once I calmed down I peeked out again. I looked for Claudia but I didn't see her so, frantically, I scanned the street for her. Maybe Peter was in after all and saved her life... or at least that's the comforting thought I had before I saw her hungry looking face staring up at my window. In fact all the zombies that were breaking into the cars were there too. I counted seven, plus Claudia. Sure wasn't my night. I thought of all the weird movies I had watched when the bodies came back to life after being bitten. So, what did I do you wonder? I ran down stairs as fast as I could and managed to lock my front door just in time. I turned the lights off and stood in the kitchen waiting for them to forget I was there; for them to hear a noise somewhere else and lost interest in me. Kids, don't always listen to the movies, they know how to smash through windows.
I ran like hell out the back door. I don't think I knew where I was running to and in a way I didn't really know what I was running from, and if it wasn't for the fact that I knew I would be their next meal I would have stopped running. After I was a lung down from running I had to stop. I looked at where I was and noticed the small garage I used to go to feed my car. I knew the owner so I walked over and looked inside for Tom and when I couldn't see him I started to knock and call him out. Nothing. I took my chance and went inside, I thought I'd be safer in there than out in the dark anyway, and if there was any of those things inside they would've no doubt responded to my calls with a not-so-friendly reply. Inside was remarkably spotless, the only thing being out of place was a few cans on the floor resulting in a spillage and I noted that the till was open. Then I hear a noise in the back. Not an alarming noise that made me run for hills again but a familiar sound that awoken a memory inside. It was a laugh. It was Tom. Alive and well, hiding out in the back, I'm guessing with a few cans of bud. My guesses proved correct when I opened the door to the back of the garage, and there he was, happy as ever, as drunk as a skunk.
'Tom?'
'Ahhhh, 'ts you, m'friend' He started to smile, and when he spoke I could smell the stale booze off his breath. 'Madneees. Outside, madness. Not. Veru. gid." His words were only half comprehensible, and I realized it was the best I was going to get.
'So you know what's going on outside'? He just nodded. I didn't bother to ask more questions. Instead I just decided to take on the extremely hard job of sobering him up which would include a few bottles of water, a pillow, a blanket, a basin. That night was a long one.

Day 7

It was a quiet few days to begin with. Tom and I lived out of his garage but the power eventually died, it got cold, and Tom got cranky. We packed things we could eat and drink, grabbed a map and talked about possible places we could go. It was decided that we weren't to go anywhere in particular and instead just headed north.
'So, what was it like?' Tom asked. I looked at my shoes; they were worn now and I thought that if we passed a shoe store I would definitely go in and look for a new pair. Then I thought that it was a very strange thought to have considering what was going on in my new world. 'What was what like?' I finally replied.
'Being one of the first people on earth to witness the worlds end?' I had never really thought about it. Was I one of the first few people to see it begin? Would I live to see it end? I had no knowledge of real time, no exact date, and even though I knew it was, I still didn't believe all of this was real. Not the dead walking or the violence that had started. I didn't want to believe this was the end to humanity as I knew it. I would give anything to wake up in my warm bed, next to my dog, the smell of coffee from the kitchen. But instead I get this. Our new world. Sorry kids, it’s not always a happy ending. Day eventually comes and goes, and before you know it you have to scramble to find a safe place to live before the dead get to it, or worse, get to you. 'Well... I guess I never really stopped to think about it Tom. One day I'm living a normal life, going to work. Doing normal things any of us would be doing. Next thing you know we are landed with this. Like a scene out of the worst movie ever. I used to watch The Walking Dead, I never actually wanted to be a part of it. I don't feel lucky that I might have been one of the first few people to watch humanity disappear.' We walked in silence for a while watching the sun going down, hoping to come across shelter. Eventually I broke it: 'When did you know something was wrong?' I think it took Tom a while to realize he was still with me before he answered: 'Well, I was going through a normal day, customers coming and going. The usual. It felt like the hottest day all summer. Anyway, I was getting ready to close for the night when I heard a moan from behind the building. I thought it might have been a bum so I shouted round for him to get out. As I was setting the alarm It came around the corner. No normal bum I'd ever saw. Grey-looking skin colour, bloody face. He came at me so I had nowhere to go but the garage. Was holed up ever since then you came along just when I'd given up hope.'
Tom and me had known each other since the age of five, when my father and mother moved next door to his. The two dad's started going on weekly fishing trips, and when we were old enough (on our seventh birthday’s)we were allowed to go with them, which was a very special treat for us at the weekend. Sooner or later we became pretty much inseparable and fishing became the best thing ever. As we got older, and we were able to go by ourselves, both of us would head out on a Saturday with all our fishing gear, ready to catch the biggest fish in the stream. Our dad's would still come with us very often, and it was a great bonding occasion. When Tom's father died when he was eighteen it all of us hard. That's the main reason we all gave up fishing. Sooner or later, everything ends.
As sun went down I spotted from the corner of my eye a small shed next to a house. It was made of brick and not the usual wooden shed so I thought it might be a good place in case rain broke out during the night. We agreed that we'd try and avoid houses at all costs because, well, you know how it goes: man finds house, man gets comfortable, man sleeps, zombie eats man, man dies, and man comes back. The same cycle over and over again. There was a light in the shed. Tom said it wasn't too visible from outside so we made do. Inside it was clean: there were neatly aligned shelves with the usual workers' tools which had been arranged from smallest to largest. There was a lawnmower at the far corner, a small refrigerator, and a few hooks on the wall with some digging tools hanging from them. My first thought was that this place was creepily neat and far too organized. The owners couldn't be home. My first instinct would be to grab all of the tools that I could carry and kill everyone that was trying to eat me. Tom brought two sleeping bags from his garage so we set up for the night. We tucked in at the fruit he brought, ate a bar of chocolate and drank orange juice, forgetting all that was going outside for a little while.
'I'll stay up first watch, I'm not really tired anyway and I think you could use the rest Tom. We'll take it in two hour shifts, if you need me I'm right outside.'
'That sounds good. I'll be out like a light tonight. ' Tom lay down in the sleep bag and closed his eyes. I knew he would be gone already, I don't think he slept a wink in days. I grabbed a torch from the shelf, took a deep breath and opened the door. Outside it was pretty dark. A few street lights still worked which cast shadows over the ground, making things a little bearable, but really eerie. The ghostly glow from the moon made things creepier still. It made me think about the zombies. How some of them could run when others could only walk at a crawling pace. The way they moved, like they were in a permanent dream state; sleepwalking without any knowledge and without being able to ever wake up. In a way I felt sorry for them. Once a human being, they were now creatures. Things that revolted people. They were no longer a part of society. They were deadly. There was a stool outside I rested on, a little small and uncomfortable but it was better than the wet grass. All was quiet tonight. No movement from any house, no noise from behind buildings, no dogs barking, no people laughing at TV shows. You don't realize that it's the little things you miss when they're gone. When I left Tom my watch said 12:15, when I looked again it said 3:05. I had overstayed my welcome outside. I shone the torch light around the perimeter one last time just in case anything was sneaking up. I still saw nothing but I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that someone was around and I didn't like it. I went inside just as Tom was stirring.
'Time it?' he asked, still half asleep.
'Five past three in the morning. Time flew, you're turn.' Tom rubbed his eyes, drank some water and stretched. I gave him the torch, tucked myself in, and closed my eyes. The last thing I remember was hearing the door close, then Tom sing the song we used to sing on our fishing trips. My dad later told me it was I who made the song up.

“It’s fishin' time,
Time to toss the line,
Time to catch, time to relax,
It's fishin' time...”

Captain Mac was lying on the floor beside my bed peering at me with one eye open. That was his signal he was awake and getting ready to play. 'Here boy' I called out to him. He came pouncing from the floor to my bed in a matter of seconds, smothering me with his morning kiss. 'Good boy, Cap' I said to him. Then something happened that had never happened before: he spoke to me. He told me to wake up �" 'Wake up quick!' I leaped out of bed with the dreaded feeling my dog had been hurt, but I wasn't in my room with Captain Mac. I was in the shed. Morning was creeping in through the window and Tom was in front of me, shaking me, asking me to get up, to get everything packed away. He seemed more on edge than I had been. I got out of the bag and started to roll it up. 'Time is it, Tom?'
'Seven-thirty' he replied. He let me sleep through part of my shift. When I asked him why he said he wasn't tired so wanted to let me rest a little longer. There was no arguing with him. Everything was packed away and sitting in the corner waiting for us to start our next journey. 'What's up Tom'? I asked, remembering the frantic morning wake-up call I got. He told me about his shift last night. How he was singing the old fishing song, how he was thinking about his Debora. Then he told me he got a feeling. He said: 'That sort of feeling you get when you're sitting around the campfire listening to one of your friend's telling the tale of the guy who died in the woods and who will haunt them for all eternity.' He told me we were being watched and was sure it was more than one person. Tom wanted to get moving, he didn't want to stay any longer. I agreed. We packed up our bags, gathered some tools that we could use and headed out. We were heading to a place we did not yet know where we were going. The unknown. Watching the rest of the sunrise Tom and I headed north again not knowing what encounters lay ahead for us, or if we would meet anyone else along the way.

Day 10

So, as most of you already know, or should know by now, is that the end of the world is inevitable. It has been portrayed in many movies. The infestation of zombies is upon us and, one day, just like that, they're going to bite you in the a*s - almost literally. They might bite you on the arm or throat but it all ends the same. Since leaving the shed, Tom and I have been walking. Resting and walking. We haven't found a decent place to sleep in almost two days. We're cold and hungry. And there are three people following us. It all started that night outside the shed when I got that uneasy feeling just before my shift was up. After I got woken up that morning we walked north as usual, leaving the comfort and warmth behind us. It made me realise how much I missed home. It felt like I hadn't been in my own bed in months, snuggled in the duvet with Captain Mac at the foot of my bed. So, as we were walking and Tom told me all about his night shift, I felt alone. It suddenly hit me: that the world had changed. What used to be movies and TV shows and games was reality. Would this be the world we would have to endure? Would our children have to be raised with weapons to fight off these beasts? Instead of a train set your little boy would get a gun. Instead of dolls �" what would the girl get? A knife? Bow and arrow? It was scary. As dark was descending upon us once more Tom stopped. We spoke in whispers at night time, just loud to hear each other.
'I'm tired James. I can't go on no more without sleep.'
'I know,' I said, 'but you know w...'
'NO!' his shout startled me, and I think it startled whoever was following us. From a distance behind us I heard what sounded like a (scream?) Was it us that startled the strangers or was it something else? Now Tom spoke again, back to a whisper. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to shout like that. It's just that I'm so tired. I can't concentrate on anything. I think we should try one of these houses out; the one on the left?.'
'Okay.' I agreed, feeling my eyes slip too. It was not only Tom that felt the night's catching up with him. I desperately wanted to crawl into the sleep bag and dream. Searching the house was the only thing we could do. We couldn't keep walking forever, being afraid to stop at any place that screams danger.
Do not enter. I used to be a place where civilized humans came. Not anymore. If you come in here you'll most likely die. STOP! BEWARE! Do not approach. The zombies will get you. Yes, you. They will tear you limb from limb if they get close enough. Go home. Wherever home is now, go.
As we approached the door we heard footsteps start up behind us in the shadows not yet wanting to be seen. On the second night after leaving the shed I had to stop to... you know. So I went behind a tree in someone's back yard. With Tom on guard I glanced up for a second to see him looking in the opposite direction, then that's when they caught my eye. Three silhouette's in the distance. Were they human? Some advance form of zombie that could control their emotions and what they did? No, they were human. (Please, God, if you hear me, if you're still there, let them be human.) I felt it that night we were at the shed, as did Tom. What we didn't know was if they were dangerous. The search downstairs was fine. Nothing dead, no foul smells. We didn't split up because we all know the trouble that can lead to so we headed up. The house was pretty big. On the upper floor there was three bedrooms, a bathroom, an office and stairs leading up to the attic. A sweep of upstairs showed no signs of the dead- or life. Now all that was left was the attic and the basement, none of which we were too fond of going to. Since we were upstairs, the attic was first. Cautiously we crept up the stairs. As we reached Tom already had the torch at hand; he lit it up, moved it around as carefully as he could in his shaking hand and... nothing. Surprising, as this is were I thought there would have been a whole family tucking into an innocent victim who just so happened to stumble upon their welcoming home. But nothing. There was no secret crawlspaces, nothing to hide behind. All that was up here were boxes, a mirror, and cobwebs that probably hadn't seen its maker in months. Compared to the rest of the house it didn't look like it was cared for. Everything just looked like it was stored away and forgotten about. But, it was as clear as the rest of the house (except the basement which we had still to check and where, I'm sure, we would meet our ultimate death).
'What was that?' Tom had the torch shining back down the stairs. I was so involved in my own thoughts that I didn't seem to notice anything else going on around me. 'What was what?' I said. Tom started to descend the steps one by one. He stopped as he reached the fifth step from the door. I was still stuck at the top trying to train my ears to hear the sounds he was hearing. Then there it was. Voices. Footsteps. Banging. Who? I was shoulder by shoulder with Tom before I even realized I had moved. Someone was in this house. Was it the three strangers? Something from the basement? The zombies will get you. Yes, you. They will tear you limb from limb if they get close enough. Closer now. Definitely human footsteps; human voices. Please, God. Now running. Gunfire. Tom burst through the door just before I could tell him to stop. It happened too quickly. There was one at first. Maybe two. By the time I got out of the door I counted four. The torch was on the floor. They kept coming. I didn't have the strength to do anything. Did I black out? I can't remember much after leaving the attic. I remember the zombies going down one by one. I heard two men shouting and I saw someone fire their gun. I remember Tom- there was blood. As I was drifting out of consciousness one of the strangers kneeled beside me. Everything was quiet so I assumed it was over. I remember him introducing himself as Dave.. or David. Then nothing.

Day 18

Day 20

Tonight we found a concealed area and have settled down. Connie knew how to light the fire so we will stay warm tonight, and I will heat up beans for the group. I'm glad to be resting once more, I don't know how much more walking (and running) I can endure. This journey we are on must come to an end (or will it just keep going?) It has been a long one with losses, blood and tears along the way. Since joining together the group has grown closer, although sometimes I think some are just here for the company. Sometimes we can go a full day without saying more than a good morning. We're not friends, probably far from it. But we have come together to fight back. To take back what is rightfully ours. To build a better home for our future generations and for us, we need to work as one. I've saw no signs of my family or Captain Mac but I don't lose hope. Every single day I miss Tom. It was my decision not to kill him but sometimes I wonder if it would have been a better choice? Is he hurting now? Does he know he's a monster? There's so many questions that will go unanswered. Maybe one day, after I'm long gone, there will be a book about this disaster and someone will get to the bottom of it. But for now, at least, my group is safe. We're carrying on in search for more human life. We're walking and living and I guess that's all that matters. Maybe soon we can build a community and find more people to join us. Maybe one day I will be able to return home; home is so far behind me now but what's the harm in trying? There might be survivors there. But, as for I, James Matheson, I will say goodbye for now, but not forever. Good luck.