my bedroom for six weeks. But now I've got a full backpack, I’ve got my rifle, and I’m ready to get the hell out of here.
4.
MY CAR IS LOCKED IN THE GARAGE, away from zombies and people. It’s been over six weeks since I drove it, but it has a full tank of gas, and there’s a can of gas in the trunk.
With my backpack thrown over my shoulder and my rifle in hand, I slowly open the door. The first thing that hits me is the smell of zombies and dead bodies. Now it smells way worse than it did when I shot Dan, so bad I feel I’m going to vomit. But what’s so weird about it all is that it’s sunny, just as sunny as when my mother was killed. It wouldn’t seem so weird if it were gray and cloudy. The sunshine fools you into thinking everything will be okay.
My bedroom window is on the west side of the house. Although my mother is there, she can’t see me when I make my escape.
But I hear growling in the distance. So I step back into my house. My heart thumps against my chest. It takes me a few minutes to gather myself. I realize the growls are not near me, at least not near enough for me not to continue with my plan.
I open the door again and step out a bit. I see a zombie on the ground over in my neighbor’s yard. It’s Tim Morgan’s yard. I don’t know if it’s him or not, and I don’t want to know. I rush over to the garage, located in front of me.
My hand is shaking as I stick the key into the side door. I don’t see any other zombies, but I keep thinking one of them will jump out from the side of the garage and get me.
That doesn’t happen as I get the door open and rush inside. Even though I know there’s no zombie in the garage, I still get scared for a second.
I close the side door, open my car door, and rush inside. Then it hits me, what I’m about to do. I’m safe inside my car, but I’m about to open the automatic garage door and hit the street. What if zombies come rushing at my car? What if I can’t leave my garage? I push the thoughts out my mind as I start my car and reach for the garage door opener.
I don’t think anyone can grip a steering wheel harder than I’m gripping mine now. I look behind me, and I don’t see zombies. I rush out the garage and then pull onto the road.
I’m not ready for what I see. The windows of many of the homes are broken, and there’s blood on the street and on the lawns.
That’s just the beginning. Half-eaten dead bodies lie on the ground. Some are face up, but I don’t slow down enough to determine who they are. But I can tell one was a government official. I can tell by the uniform he’s wearing. I can also tell one is Mrs. Chester. She’s sprawled in the middle of the street. I look away because they’ve ripped her to pieces. I can tell it’s her because of the blue striped housedress she often wore over her obese body.
My stomach is a jumbled mess, and my head is spinning. Then I see one, a zombie, slowing dragging itself up the street, coming right for me.
I hit the gas. As I turn the corner, making skid sounds in my hurry, I see three more!
They’re chasing after me, but they can’t outrun the car. Then I hear the human screaming. I don’t recognize him from the neighborhood. He has a look of extreme fear on his face as he heads for my car. “Help me!” he says, frantically waving his arms.
I consider slowing down just enough for him to jump into the car, but it’s too late. Two zombies catch him and drag him down. I keep driving, even faster now.
I reach the ramp for the expressway, and a crowd of zombies stand in the middle of the street, blocking the entrance. My heart stops.
I swerve around the zombies as if they were humans I don’t want to hurt. But one rushes for my car and tries to jump on it. As my car speeds down the ramp, the zombie falls to the ground.
I don’t look back.
* * *
Entering the expressway, I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves and to focus. The entrance was always guarded by
4.
MY CAR IS LOCKED IN THE GARAGE, away from zombies and people. It’s been over six weeks since I drove it, but it has a full tank of gas, and there’s a can of gas in the trunk.
With my backpack thrown over my shoulder and my rifle in hand, I slowly open the door. The first thing that hits me is the smell of zombies and dead bodies. Now it smells way worse than it did when I shot Dan, so bad I feel I’m going to vomit. But what’s so weird about it all is that it’s sunny, just as sunny as when my mother was killed. It wouldn’t seem so weird if it were gray and cloudy. The sunshine fools you into thinking everything will be okay.
My bedroom window is on the west side of the house. Although my mother is there, she can’t see me when I make my escape.
But I hear growling in the distance. So I step back into my house. My heart thumps against my chest. It takes me a few minutes to gather myself. I realize the growls are not near me, at least not near enough for me not to continue with my plan.
I open the door again and step out a bit. I see a zombie on the ground over in my neighbor’s yard. It’s Tim Morgan’s yard. I don’t know if it’s him or not, and I don’t want to know. I rush over to the garage, located in front of me.
My hand is shaking as I stick the key into the side door. I don’t see any other zombies, but I keep thinking one of them will jump out from the side of the garage and get me.
That doesn’t happen as I get the door open and rush inside. Even though I know there’s no zombie in the garage, I still get scared for a second.
I close the side door, open my car door, and rush inside. Then it hits me, what I’m about to do. I’m safe inside my car, but I’m about to open the automatic garage door and hit the street. What if zombies come rushing at my car? What if I can’t leave my garage? I push the thoughts out my mind as I start my car and reach for the garage door opener.
I don’t think anyone can grip a steering wheel harder than I’m gripping mine now. I look behind me, and I don’t see zombies. I rush out the garage and then pull onto the road.
I’m not ready for what I see. The windows of many of the homes are broken, and there’s blood on the street and on the lawns.
That’s just the beginning. Half-eaten dead bodies lie on the ground. Some are face up, but I don’t slow down enough to determine who they are. But I can tell one was a government official. I can tell by the uniform he’s wearing. I can also tell one is Mrs. Chester. She’s sprawled in the middle of the street. I look away because they’ve ripped her to pieces. I can tell it’s her because of the blue striped housedress she often wore over her obese body.
My stomach is a jumbled mess, and my head is spinning. Then I see one, a zombie, slowing dragging itself up the street, coming right for me.
I hit the gas. As I turn the corner, making skid sounds in my hurry, I see three more!
They’re chasing after me, but they can’t outrun the car. Then I hear the human screaming. I don’t recognize him from the neighborhood. He has a look of extreme fear on his face as he heads for my car. “Help me!” he says, frantically waving his arms.
I consider slowing down just enough for him to jump into the car, but it’s too late. Two zombies catch him and drag him down. I keep driving, even faster now.
I reach the ramp for the expressway, and a crowd of zombies stand in the middle of the street, blocking the entrance. My heart stops.
I swerve around the zombies as if they were humans I don’t want to hurt. But one rushes for my car and tries to jump on it. As my car speeds down the ramp, the zombie falls to the ground.
I don’t look back.
* * *
Entering the expressway, I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves and to focus. The entrance was always guarded by
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