In The Beginning…

May 10, 2007 at 7:44 pm (Fiction, Survival Story, Undead, Zombie)

It was only six am when I was dragged out of bed by my Mom. Infection warning sirens were blaring in the background while my Dad stood in the living room staring at the TV. He was holding his shotgun looking all too ready to use it. Under normal circumstances this is concerning, but when you add in an infection hitting your town its only natural to be thrown into a panic. After all, everything you once knew about to be eaten.

We thought we were well prepared. Even though Mom had bought into the propaganda believing the Zombie Threat was virtually contained, Dad drilled us on what to do. He went so far as to have us fake an evacuation from town in the middle of the night, only telling us it was a drill once we were gone. This was different. You could feel it just by looking at my Dad. It was here at last and everyone, except for my Father, was in an utter panic.

Getting dressed I could hear the man on the TV talking about the living dead. That you should only aim for the head for a kill shot as anywhere else is wasted ammunition. They don’t need sleep, they don’t get tired, they are attracted to the faintest whisper, or slightest of smell. As he talked in the background you could hear screaming people, no doubt the camera was shooting in full view of the zombies. I have seen them before on TV. At first they were censored like the attack on the World Trade Center. Now they just wanted to scare people into preparing for the worse.

I thought I was quick getting dressed, but by the time I got outside my Brother Dan was already waiting beside the car. He was always the gun type. So it was no surprise when our overzealous father told him to “Guard the car so one of the neighbours doesn’t try to steal it to get away”. Like any of them would want our car, everyone knows it breaks down just when you need it. Looking around it appeared all of our neighbours except Miss Jenkins, and Roy Patterson beat us leaving anyway. Miss Jenkins always said she would stay with her cats & her house, and Roy Patterson always joked around saying he’d come over to defend her. I guess he followed through.

It took us forty-five minutes to get onto the highway, normally it’s a five minute job. Every semi-major road was packed as seemingly everyone in town tried to leave simultaneously. I was starting to believe in Roy Patterson’s plan of letting it calm down before trying to leave, but it was to early in the morning for me to be coherent enough to attempt an argument with my Father. At least the traffic was beginning to speed up.

(Cont. May 11, 8pm EST “Last Words”)



  1. dondular said,

    Keep it up. I LOVE zombie stories.

  2. Boniface said,

    I found it interesting that you referenced the attack on the World Trade Towers. Are your Zombies a methaphor? A previous poster mentioned his fondness for Zombie stories, and I like them too, especially if the zombie is a metaphor for an unarticulated threat – one that rings true for the reader.

  3. ZombieJournalist said,

    “I found it interesting that you referenced the attack on the World Trade Towers. Are your Zombies a methaphor?”

    No metaphor intended there. However, speaking of metaphors I do believe that zombies, at least to some people, represent the destructive path many believe humanity is on. Not only our destructive tendencies of war which is mimicked in the simplified mind of a zombie, but our penchant for negatively effecting entire ecosystems.

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