***Warning- zombie apocalypse is not pretty..***
I lay under the Ford Mustang hand over my mouth, heart beating so hard I wondered if they could hear it. There were about fifteen of them. My body shook, every muscle trembling with terror. They shuffled and lurched unsteadily, dead and rotting limbs holding them up almost supernaturally. Tears rolling down my face, I thought of my family. Dad was bit first protecting my sister, Becky, during the first night of infection. He killed everyone but me, only because I knew what was happening. My name is Amy Barker and I’m sixteen years old.
No one believed in Zombie Apocalypse, but I did. I watched enough zombie movies, so it was no surprise to me. I knew it was coming. I also knew the rules. A shot to the head and they’re dead, never get caught without your gun, and run like hell if there were more then three. I knew, too, that unless you had a group, you were zombie food. So my goal was to find a group for protection.
The last one ambled by, but I waited at least another twenty minutes to make sure. Gently easing myself out, I looked in all directions carefully. The name of the game was survival. Brushing the dust from my clothes, as if it mattered now how I looked, I quietly slipped into the woods, heading west. It’s weird not seeing another living person. I needed to find shelter, it was getting dark. The next town just up ahead, I would clear a house, secure the doors, and stay there for the night. After surveying each house for potential hiding place, I found one that was perfect. Guns drawn, I went inside, moving quietly because noise attracted them. Back against the wall, I peeped around the corner of the living room door and into the kitchen. There, on the floor. A child. I especially hated killing the kids. It felt so wrong. This one was probably about nine or ten. I didn’t want to use the gun, because of the noise factor, so I took out my knife. Just as I was about to bring my arm down with the killing strike, it turned around.
“Nooo, please don’t!” it said.
Wait a minute. Zombies don’t talk. Yet, she looked like a zombie! She smelled like a zombie, and I saw the bite wound on her arm.
“No, only part way. It only went part way,” she cried. It was a girl. she was a girl. “I only eat when I have to. I don’t crave, like the others. Please, don’t kill me. I won’t hurt you.”
Ok, so here was a new development.
“I can keep them away from you!” she insisted. “They don’t bother me!”
***********************
She was right. We walked always west, not one zombie bothered me with more than a passing glance. Maybe, if we could find smart survivors, we could find someone who could figure outwhy she only changed part way. Maybe this one child was the key to the future, if mankind had a future. Perhaps it wasn’t to be, our survival. Maybe it was supposed to be this way. I don’t know. I only know that I want to live. Here, and now.
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