The Strong Will Survive

Chapter One - Lilith [EDITED]

 There were three types of zombies.

The first kind was the zombie most people recognized from TV shows like "The Walking Dead." It aimed for major pressure points and sucked your blood like a vampire, replacing the familiar red liquid with an insane amount of venom - more than the most poisonous creature in the world, the poison dart frog. Fun fact: I only learned that because this type of zombie, nicknamed the Bite, was compared to the creature so many freakin' times.

The second zombie - slightly less dangerous - was the Breath. Ever heard of the Kiss of Death? Here it is! The zombie pinned down its victims with super strength and basically gave them the grossest French kiss ever, either spitting venom down their throat or nipping their tongue and letting the venom enter there. They weren't as dangerous, however, because unlike the Bites, they were slower than snail snot, as my mother would say. And actually had said several times.

The last and best (if there is one) zombie was the Bedridden. These people had an immunity to the poison, per se - but they fell into a deep coma from which they never woke.

It took people five seconds to transform completely into a zombie. Only five seconds.

And yet, the world spun on. The sun rose every morning and set every night. I woke up and literally got on an armored government vehicle just to go to school every day. My parents went to a community camp to stay safe during the day, accompanied by Daisy and little Reggie, who attended school there (a good portion of the elementary school staff had been lost when zombies broke in during a staff meeting).

The morning was the beginning to yet another "normal day" when it happened.

I climbed on the "bus" (with tiny, barred windows, a machine gun over the driver's seat, pepper spray under every seat, and a locked door, it can hardly be called that) and settled down in my assigned seat. They assigned seating so that the roll call would be easier.

When we reached school, my bus driver did the roll call. Two children were missing. One of them had called in themselves to report that they would no longer be attending due to a family emergency. The other's mother called in hysterics to say the same thing, but for a different reason.

It was so odd, thinking that someone's life ended the night before, and yet their murderers lived on, killing others with no guilt or repercussions. It was strange to think that a mother's world had just fallen apart while mine trundled slowly, achingly slowly, by.

The middle/high school had greatly changed. It had never had many windows, but the few that had dotted the walls were now covered with thick metal sheets, and those classrooms were rarely used. They were being slowly cemented in from the inside as well.

I spent that day as I usually did. Huddled in my classrooms, pretending to work on yet another worksheet or something similar, while our teacher listened to the radio and had a hushed phone conversation with an important school figure. In the middle of the morning, I had a study hall. Science class had been removed from everyone's schedule - all scientists and their families, regardless of their occupations, education level, or skill sets were at facilities, studying on how to end the zombie apocalypse.

In study hall, my best friend, Kenzie, pulled me down next to her. I sat with a bump and smiled, the first grin I had cracked all morning.

"Hey, Kenzie," I greeted her.

She pressed half of a cookies 'n cream chocolate bar and a full soda into my hands and said around a mouthful of her half of the chocolate, "Di' oo heaw de news?"

I raised my eyebrows at her, amused, as she pushed her laptop toward me. This was, sadly, a normal Kenzie greeting. No "hello" or "how are you?" or "is everyone in your family still alive?" Well, the cookies and cream chocolate bar accompanied by soda part weren't so bad, to be honest.

I read the headline quietly out loud. "Pop stars across the globe relocating to remote locations...oh, geez, Kenzie." Leave it to Kenzie to continue obsessing about her idols after the zombie apocalypse had begun. At least I had given up my celebrity crushes and television obsessions for the end of the world.

Okay, so maybe I had kept a few (read: all) of them, but who could blame us? After all, they were a distraction.

Although, "The Walking Dead" was cancelled a month ago.

Kenzie stood and stretched. She was looking flawless as usual. Her raven-black hair was pulled into a side ponytail, one strip of it braided, and her bronze skin was free of any blemishes. Her green eyes glittered with humor and fire, two words that well described my best friend. Her tank top was white with a golden heart in the middle, and a cropped jean jacket was thrown on over it. Her skinny jeans were rugged and ripped at the knees, and her brown, ankle-high boots, sporting two-inch heels to bump her 5'2 height up to a 5'4, finished off the look. She was shapely and fit. However, I knew that Kenzie put a lot of time and effort into her looks, and makeup helped refine and highlight her better features. She also regularly exercised to keep herself looking just the way she wanted.

Sometimes I felt jealous, but then Kenzie reminded me with an offhanded makeup comment or a complaint about money after a shopping spree, that fashion and looks were kind of her life. She spent all of her money and time on them, leaving only a little for me. However, they made her happy, and I wouldn't be a true best friend if my sole intent was not to make Kenzie happy.

"I'm getting a drink," Kenzie told me, rattling her empty soda can as an explanation and leaving the lecture hall without even glancing at the senile woman "supervising" us, who was muttering to herself while writing something in a notebook.

I smiled fondly, pulling out my phone to text my family. Reggie had a phone now, too, for the sole reason so we could contact him quickly. We were all on a group chat with designated times where we were supposed to "check in." and confirm our safety. This was one of those times.

Still alive, I texted. In a few minutes, the rest of my family did the same. It was the phrase we had all taken to using - simple and to the point.

Suddenly, a crash and scream could be heard from outside. Long, loud, high-pitched, terrified. I recognized that scream from the ill-fated night in 6th grade when we convinced ourselves we could watch The Ring.

Kenzie.

I bolted from my chair and for the door before my brain could even register the decision my legs had already made.

Zombies. They were flooding the school, having broken through a door. What idiot had left a door open in the middle of the zombie apocalypse?! Already, a senior lay, turned, at one's feet. Its teeth glistened red and it smiled brokenly as it staggered to its feet.

I scream, "Run! Zombies!" back inside the lecture hall and glanced wildly around the hallway for Kenzie.

A girl lay crumpled at the end of the hall. Her black hair spilled around her, her arm sporting a nasty bite.

"No," I choked out. "No."

I ran to her, stumbling over my own feet as the screams from the children exiting the lecture hall filled my ears. It was Kenzie.

And she was gone.

I wouldn't give up on her. Dragging her through the halls, I made a run for the nearest exit - one that hadn't been overtaken by zombies.

I needed to get home.