Death is Just The Beginning...

Prologue: Death and Despair

'The--- is--- and--- never getting---- zom--- don't---" The radio faded to static. The sounds of crying filled the room as my mother banged her fist on the radio. "What does that mean? What is he saying?" She asked desperately. My father went over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. " Charlotte, I don't think it's working anymore. we need to leave." she jerked away from him. "What do you mean we need to leave ? I'm not going anywhere! I don't know who you think you are but if I'm going to abandon our home, then you better think again! This is the one-" she was cut off by a loud crash coming from the kitchen.

"James!" she screamed as my father grabbed his shotgun and ran from the room. My mom grabbed my arm and dragged me up stairs. "Wait!" I screamed. She ignored me. "But dad might need help!" I tried to tell her. She stopped and turned to me. "I'll go help him. Go to the safe room upstairs and wait for us. If we aren't there in 5 minutes you know what to do." Pulling her .22 out of her robe, she ran down the steps. With one look at me, she turned a corner, and I was alone.

I took the steps two at a time, almost tripping twice. Finally making it to the room, I grabbed my back pack. It was a plain black bag filled with guns and ammo. It also had a bottle of water, a compass, crackers, and other provisions. I put on my thin black jacket, my black combat boots, and put on my gloves. Grabbing a small pistol, I shoved it in my pocket and ran to the window with my bag.

The window was opened slightly, the smell of death and rotting corpses filled the air. I grabbed the small container of Vaseline in the left side pocket of my bag and put some under my nose. To kill the smell.

According to my watch, only three minutes had passed. I stayed on my feet, ready to grab the rope hanging from the window if I needed to. I heard footsteps, and then my door flew open. "Elizabeth, " my father Breathed. My mother ran up next to him. "Go," she told me. I grabbed the rope and started climbing down, just as an explosion shook the building. My mom started climbing down after me, only to stop. "Mom," I whispered. She moved slightly and I saw it. My dad had hold of her right wrist. I didn't understand why he was stopping her until I noticed the bite mark in his left shoulder. He was turning.

"James, please," she begged. "Charlotte," he croaked. "Be with me. Forever." She looked down at me, tears shimmering in her eyes. I was almost to the bottom of the rope and I could barely see the blood dripping from her arm where my dads fingers were digging into her skin. "Run," she told me.

I dropped to the ground, and as oon as my feet felt solid earth, I started sprinting south. I heard a low thud and turned to see my mother's body laying on the ground, my father on top if her, his head at her throat, tearing away her flesh.