How to Survive the Apocalypse

Chapter 1: Don't Throw Your Phone Against the Wall

 "This is such bullshit," Brayden screamed out loud, flinging his phone across his childhood bedroom. It hit the gray wall on the other side with a resounding crack, and Brayden's face grew red with fury when he realized he might have broken his last connection to his brother, Calvin.

"Not like it matters anyway, since Cal won't fucking respond!" he yelled out to the void. Brayden stormed across the room to pick up the phone. In the back of his mind, he knew that the phone would be obsolete in just a few months, and he prayed to whatever god still existed that he would be able to find Calvin before it was too late. He picked up his phone, studying the large crack that now formed on his phone.

"Please, please... Just respond Cal." He checked his notifications: no messages. Tears streamed down his face when he remembered reading the news reports that all of California was taken. If Cal didn't make it out of there, then there was no chance he was alive anymore.

" Fuck, Cal, just... fuck! Why did you have to move so damn far?! Couldn't you have just stayed here, would that have been so hard?" Brayden collapsed down onto his bed, tears streaming down his face. No amount of screaming would bring his twin back from the dead. Then, a more sinister thought entered his mind: a bite from one of those things could absolutely bring his twin back from the dead. In fact, Cal could very much have come back. Would his shambling corpse recognize the ringtone go off? Would it know to answer its beloved brother?

Brayden laid on his back, the thoughts of his brother being one of those undead freaks suffocating him. Unwilling to do nothing, Brayden bolted out of bed and down the stairs, leaving his phone far behind on the bed. He needed to run. He was going to run far away from here. Take your phone, a voice called in his head, what if Cal calls you?

"He won't fucking call, he's fucking dead," Brayden screamed out loud. Somewhere beneath the grief and the trauma of the past few months, he knew that talking to himself was crazy, but what else did he have to do?

Brayden ran out of the small house and started running towards Central Avenue, hoping to get lost in one of the stores. Central Avenue was always its quietest at sunrise, and that was when Brayden had liked it best. He started wondering if it was always this peaceful at 7:30 in the morning. He couldn't remember.

His running slowed, and his thoughts cleared, and Brayden once again entered survival mode. He had been hellbent on surviving this thing, no matter what.

Mentally, he made a checklist of places he needed to go. Gas station for gas for the car. Barnes & Noble for CDs. McDonalds for a breakfast sandwich. At the thought of breakfast, Brayden's stomach growled, and he jogged until he reached a tiny McDonalds tucked away in the corner of a shopping center.

The hinges wailed when Brayden attempted to open the door slowly. If there were zombies inside, they surely would have heard him enter. He stood in the doorway, a butcher knife gently tucked into his left hand, and he raised it into the air, ready to strike.

When nothing came, Brayden lowered the knife and quietly crept towards the back. He remembered the first few days of the virus, how panicked everyone was. Gracie knew that it was bad, but she went to work anyway. Their parents begged her not to go; said that the hospitals would be fine without one less nurse. But Gracie went anyway, and when she came back everyday, she had a bright smile on her face. For a few moments, it was almost like the world hadn't gone to shit. That only lasted for three weeks.

In the kitchen, the smell of hamburgers, chicken nuggets, and french fries hit him. Raising his butcher knife again, Brayden drew closer to the back room. He lowered it when he saw a short man standing there, meticulously counting out chicken nuggets. At first, Brayden could not make out the identity of the curly-haired man, but as he moved towards the man, he realized that he knew exactly who it was.

"Jay?"

The man turned to look at Brayden, and his dark eyes warmed into a kind smile. "Brayden, my friend! How are you?"

"I'm good," Brayden said, and the two moved in for a hug. Brayden noticed Jay stumble a little bit on his way towards him, but paid no mind as he pulled one of his oldest friends into a big bear hug.

"I'm drunk," Jay said. "Have been since last night. What's going on, my man?"

"Nothing really," Brayden said. "I need something to eat."

"Sorry," Jay said, his smile dropping instantly, "I just took some chicken nuggets for my sisters."

Brayden's heart melted at the thought that Jay's little sisters had all made it this far. Four months into an apocalypse was no easy feat, and so Brayden couldn't help but smile.

"No worries, Jay," he finally said. "I'll help you walk them over, in fact."

"Sounds like a plan. Hey, there should be some fries, if you and Calvin want some. Hey, where is Calvin?" Brayden froze for a second.

"He's-" Brayden's voice trailed off, and tears welled up in his eyes.

Jay let out a gasp. "Oh. Brayden, I'm so-"

"It's fine Jay," Brayden curtly responded, taking a step back. "Good luck out there, stay safe, and take care of your sisters."

Brayden suddenly ran out of the store, not giving his friend a chance to say anything else. A zombie approached Brayden outside, but he shoved the butcher knife into its head and watched as it crumpled to the ground.

"I can't do this... not today." Not on our twenty-first birthday. The words echoed around in his head. No one would care that he was twenty-one, that he could legally drink and party all he wanted.

He began walking back towards his home, not wanting to do anything else. His appetite had vanished, replaced with a plethora of emotions. Anger. Sadness. Fear. Guilt. Tears started streaming down his cheeks, and then he heard Jay call out from the restaurant.

"If you're not doing anything later, come to my house! We can catch up!" Brayden couldn't turn around, couldn't muster the courage to say thanks. He just froze, nodded, and ran off.