Charlie just wanted to sleep.
Charlie just wanted water.
Charlie just wants some peace and quiet.
Charlie also hates his life, but that's not relevant.
I'm Charlie, by the way. I'm thirteen years old, a genius, and someone who was not made for surviving a zombie apocalypse. I was hiding out in my closet after seeing my neighbor get mauled to death. Or un-death? I don't know.
You probably don't care about how any of this started, and neither do I. It's probably just like the movies where an evil scientist bites a dead person and they're so disgusted they come back to life and kill the scientist.
I opened the closet door and got out once I thought it was all clear and head downstairs for a snack. I decided to go into the backyard and then remembered that we were in the middle of an apocalypse.
How did I remember? I saw a zombie.
I ran into the shed and locked the door.
I heard a low growling noise and turned around.
I came face to face with a zombie.
