Doctor William James McClure

"Between the years of 1793-1794, known as the Reign of Terror,the French used the guillotine to decapitate those who were sentenced to death."

The bell rings, causing the sound of bags to shuffle and stir.

"Remember, read to page 335 tonight. Due next class."

I pick up my leather brief case and slid my black, leather binder in and leave the building to the parking lot. My hand reaches into my black jeans for my car keys to my 1995 BMW M5. I start up and leave the school grounds, heading home. As I drive silently on Main Street, a man suddenly runs out into the middle of the road. Slamming on my breaks I cause a chain reaction, slamming into me and I into a car in front of me. My car jolts and jumps five more times before I fall unconscious.

    That's how the end of the world began for me. I was simply on my way home when my world was turned upside down. Now I sit alone in a cabin I found in the woods. The windows are boarded up with scrap metal I found laying in the barn and in the yard. I brought the grill down to the basement where I do my cooking and sleeping. On my second day I scavenge the house, finding a bolt-action rifle (with boxes of ammunition), a Colt 1911, pump action shotgun, and plenty of food and a generator in the barn.
    I reinforced the 1994 F-150 in the driveway. Plexiglass was screwed in behind the glass window and door on the cap. The hatch flap is able to be locked from the inside by two bolt locks. The back window of the cab was removed to allow access to the back from the cab. In the bed I bolted down a cooler to hold supplies I collect when I venture out. The whole bed was layered in thick blankets to allow a bedding in case I get pinned down or I need to stop when night begins to settle.
    So I worked it out as best as I could. Is it the greatest plan and set up? Not in the slightest. But I have at least improved my chances.
    On my last trip I picked up a Mac laptop, an iPod and a solar charger panel. Everyday I go on the roof and charge my items and practice my aim on wondering zombies. Yes. I said zombies. A term I would have stated irrelevant any day of the week before now. Because now I am running from flesh hungry beings everyday of my life. Well, not really running, more like jogging.

But today is a day I have to go out for supplies. I trade with several local food stores, giving the ammunition I make here for food and drinks. I grab my 1911 from downstairs and my shotgun on the table. Putting the 1911 in my pants at the small of my back and leave the house. Locking the door behind me. I enter the driver seat and speed off to Wal Mart. Its about a twenty minute drive, so I am able to listen to my iPod through the radio and enjoy my cigarettes at peace. When I arrive I find the doors open, glass all over the ground.

Go back. Go back you f*****g idiot.

Despite my instincts I get out of the truck with my shotgun and walk toward the entrance fully alert. Scanning and paroling lot with every step. When I get inside I find the floor streaked with blood, probably a few days old. I continue on though, looking all over the aisles and floor. In the far back I can see a door with light bleeding through from the other side. In front are a handful of bodies resting on the floor. Side stepping to the left I grab an apple and pitch it to the right side of the store, making sure I hit the jewelry. As predicted, the six bodies get up and pelt to the jewelry department. I, intern, run to the door and lightly tap next to the door knob.

"It's William. Open up!"

The door clicks open and I dash into the break room. There the group of ten sat around the table.

"I've come for our trade. I will kill the zombies but I want double on the drink."

"Deal," said the leader, Jason Revere.

I nod and leave the room again and c**k the shotgun.

"I'M HERE!!!" I yell and kick a can into a shelving unit.

In response, I hear grunts, groans and pit-patter of feet. I stand still and wait for each one to come into view. I reach behind me for the 1911 and take him, hitting all six targets in the head. Dropping them where they run. I turn back to the break room and enter with the same lack of emotion as when I killed them. 

"Now, Jason, come with me and I'll give you your ammunition and you give me my supplies."

He nods and steps forward but is grabbed by one of the other three men.

"Jason, we don't have enough supplies for us let alone him. The zombies may ruined it in their raid," this is George Commerce who spoke.
        "It has only been three months, I've traded with you on the last week of the month. You are a party of ten people. This store has enough to feed your for the next year or two, excluding the perishables. Now I made a deal with you men, give me food and you get properly made ammunition. At the current moment it seems that ammunition is your top priority, do to your inability to protect the women and children here. So, George, do me a favor and shut it." I snap and return my attention to Jason, "I will take my usual. I'll go round up what I need and check in with you as I leave."
        George scowls at me, his eyes locked on me. I leave the room and grab a carriage. I fill the basket with four packages of meat, a gallon of milk, a twenty-four pack of Mountain Dew, pasta, and two twenty-four packs of water. Before heading out I stop by the room and check in with Jason. He nods and follows me out with a camouflage shotgun from the showcase in the camping department. The two of us go outside to my truck. Opening the back of the truck I pull forward a cardboard box, filled to the top with three types of ammunition.
       "Thank you very much William. You have no idea how helpful this is."
       "I know how helpful it is. But take some advice- watch George. After the confrontation we just had I feel that he will be the end to all of you. If he wants to move, you stay here. He wants to take anyone with him, you don't let him take those women or children. George is a weak link waiting to break," I close the tailgate, after unloading my carriage.
        "I will William. I'll see you in four or five weeks."
        We shake hands as I enter the driver seat. I leave the parking lot, looking back at Jason as he advanced on the store front. I really do hope the zombies get to George before I do.