How to Survive Z-Day Without Looking Like a Jerk But Still Looking Pretty Badass

FILE #4

[A/N: Inb4 you microbiolgy freaks spout "A virus is not considered a cell! How can one possibly create any sort of creepy-ass chimera out of something that is not even living! That's like making a shoe-tote bag hybrid!" Creative liscence, brah.]

http://[INFORMATION REDACTED].com DIA'S AMAZIBLOG Friday, September 2, 2011 @ 1:11 PM

Hey, guys. My family and I are safe enough for now, we own a vacation home in this certain location so we're crashing there for a while. Now, a grand total of 45 people are Infected. Great. Um... well, it's time for a blow-by-blow account of the past few months.

Don't you worry, I have photographic memory, a lot of time on my hands, and took Creative Writing as an elective last year.

...

School had ended the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. We were out, now, frolicking about the Summer with our shirttails untucked and our hair blowing in the wind.

Well, not "we," exactly.

We were simply crowded about person A or Person B's basement for the whole summer, around their computer, bragging about how we could hack into the laws of physics if we wanted. But, we figured, we'd just settle for trying to find some confidential U.S. Files. Maybe we'll be able to start a Zombie apocalypse, who knows?

I was sprawled across the carpeted floor of Raynee's room, her grey eyes glistening as she was running several programs through her computer at once, trying to, for the fifth day in a row, make her way into File #.09u082coira24FF28days. Porter and Jett sat on her bed, whilst Ryan was over her shoulder, attempting to coach her on what codes to enter into the program that he and Jett spent a year or so designing.

Much to my chagrin, it worked.

And, much to Raynee's chagrin, she was blushing furiously. Raynee was the youngest of the group, about thirteen years old; Ryan, the oldest in this immediate area, was seventeen and the most experienced. She admired him to bits, as we all did, even though it was obvious I was the most intelligent out of the five in our city but, I digress.

I chose to stay out of this little escapade; this is our first time really, really getting into anything other than password-protected documents which stored the info about the previous UN meeting. I knew that Ryan and Jett might have thought us to be perfectly safe, what with their genius technology and firewalls and the like.

Yeah, but they were kinda using a Middle School-aged girl's computer to do it on. Granted, Raynee did suggest the idea. Porter outwordly tried to stop her; Jett shooed him off and then proceeded to gather the other eight from their safe perches spread throughout the country (and one in Canada) to monitor Raynee's computer, so as to see if the feds caught onto her.

Jett rose off of her bed as Raynee's mother, completely unawares to the fact that it was pretty odd to have three teenaged boys and only one other girl in her teenaged daughter's room, called for the third time if we wanted cookies.

Of course, she used our real names. None of us noticed, but hell yeah, we wanted cookies.

"Nuh-uh, Dia, you stay here and make sure Raynee's computer doesn't freeze. We'll bring you up some nourishment, so long as you stay put and see if there's secretly about to be a zombie apocalypse or something." Jett said, stepping in front of me as I attempted to step through Ray's doorway.

"Screw you, I want some cookies. Ray's mom is like, the goddess of baking-"

"Stay. We could get her into some serious trouble, you know."

"Yes, Jett, I know. Why can't you do it?" Jett rolled his eyes with every opening and closing of my mouth.

"Because I am your senior by exactly one year and thirty-eight days. You're young, you're inexperienced. Follow my example, get some experience up your sleeve." I elbowed him in the rib, shooing off Ryan's call of "Yo, Jett, you coming?" and attempting to make my way out the door.