Choose Your Own Zombie Adventure

Stealth

You lower yourself to the ground, easing your bag onto the dirt beside the walk way and slip off your shoes. The ground is wet and cold, it jolts up the soles of your feet into your bones. You realize, quite suddenly and inconveniently, that you're exhausted.

You shake your head, your heart is hammering so loudly you can't hear anything around you. You start sweating as you switch off the safety, pulling back the hammer, pressing your trigger finger against the barrel of the gun as you make your way towards the door, shuffling awkwardly, feeling stupid.

What if it's family? You think, or the neighbor? Your heart races harder as you strive to hear the person within. Nothing, no noise.

You squeeze your eyes shut, gathering your courage as you launch through the doorway, gun aimed out and in front, your gaze darting around wildly. Your toe catches on the divider between carpet and tile, you trip and let out a small gasp, your shoulder slamming against the wall. You freeze as a shuffling noise starts your way.

"Hello?"

You immediately relax as your best friend comes into view with their dogs by their side, leashes on. They have a bag strapped to their shoulders that's loaded to bursting with stuff. You eye them curiously, sagging against them as they drop the bag to the ground and ease you onto a couch. 

The dogs are eerily quiet and reserved.

They know.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Have you heard the news?"

You brush off their concern, watching as they grabs your things from outside. They take longer than they should, you start reaching for the gun they put on the table when they come back inside, shutting and locking the door firmly.

They quiz you on the car, on what happened. You try to explain, you know you sound ridiculous. You start crying - you didn't realize how hard the whole thing had been until you starting reliving it.

"What are we gunna do?" You whisper.

"Do you know what's going on?" They grab the bag and sit beside you, dumping the contents on the space between the couch and the coffee table. Cans, water bottles, boxes pouring out like they'll never end.

"I didn't listen to the radio. We watched the news at work but-"

"It's gotten worse." They start organizing supplies into piles. "We're in martial law, there's a curfew now. We need to decide what to do."

Do you guys:

Stay put for the night?
TURN TO TIME TO SKEDADDLE

Run while you can?
TURN TO ON THE ROAD AGAIN