How I Survived (A Zombie Apocalypse Story)

When Something Goes Wrong In Your Life, Yell 'PLOT TWSIT!' And Move On

Chapter One

     My face was pressed up against the rental car's mucky window, pale green eyes scanning the passing landscape lazily. I hummed in response to the mindless chatter of my mother, Mary Louise Adams, as I wiped away the last of the fog my breath had made against the glass. Just as I was about to turn away, I saw a man with his ribcage protruding out of his chest.
As gruesome as that was, I was more surprised by the fact that he was standing perfectly up right, walking (okay, shuffling) along the otherwise abandoned stretch of highway.
     "Holy fuck!" I screamed, furiously banging on the switch that lowered the window. I needed to stick my head out to look back and make sure I wasn't going totally insane, hallucinating mangled bodies strutting around.
     "What?!" My mom screamed back just as shrilly as she slammed on the breaks, the action pitching my twisted-around body forward into the dashboard.
     "Fuuuuuck..." I groaned at the impact. My elbow had hit first, which probably spared me severe bone breakage and possible paralysis, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.
     "Jesus Christ, Tessa! I'm so sorry! But what the fuck?" My mom was frantic, probably wondering if I was having another 'episode.'
     I didn't answer though, being way too preoccupied with the should-be-dead-but-somehow-wasn't person still making his way over to us. Giving up on the window, I snatched my mom's car keys from her purse and unlocked the door, simultaneously unbuckling my seat belt. My elbow throbbed in protest at the movement, but shock and fear were probably telling it to shut the fuck up, because the second I stepped out of the car, the pain dulled.
     "What are you doing? Tessa, stop!" My mom was still yelling at me as I slowly made my way closer to the bloody man, my hand reaching up to shield my eyes from the glaring sun.
     I stopped about fifteen feet away, apprehension settling over me like a wet blanket when I noticed dried blood around his mouth, even though neither his jaw nor nose looked broken.
     "You alright buddy?" I asked cautiously, slanting my eyes behind him, looking for any sign of a car wreck that he could've come from.
     I got no response, the sound of his shuffling feet the only thing breaking the stifling silence. He was closer now, only about ten feet away. I squinted and leaned in, trying to see him clearly for the first time. When I did, my heart stopped.
     Not only was his ribcage sticking out of his chest and blood covering his face, but he was snarling. Like, honest-to-god snarling. In between his blood covered teeth were chunks of what looked flesh, and his eyes were almost a solid milky white, just the least bit of a faded, grey-ish iris visible.
     My fist tightened around my mom's car keys as I screamed at my suddenly stiff legs to move, fucking MOVE!
     Just as I started to turn around and run the fuck away from whatever horror film I'd accidentally stumbled into, the man, or as I realized two seconds before, zombie, grabbed onto me, pushing me to the ground and falling on top of me, snapping its bloody jaws in my face.
     Having only a split second to decide how to avoid getting my face bitten off, I relied on pure instinct.
And instinct said to punch the fucker right between the eyes.
     The zombie stilled, the snarling ceased, and I was left with my labored breath as the only sign that I was still alive.
     Slowly, I twisted the car key that was impaled in the monster's brain, choosing to make extra sure that it was dead. As I pushed the corpse off of my lower body, the key came loose with a squelch, making me wince and gag at the same time. I stood up on shaky legs, unable to stop my gaze from wandering back over to what was once a man.
     Among all his old injuries stood a new one, bright red and oozing blood. His sallow skin only increased the vibrancy of the hole in his forehead, about the size of a .45 caliber bullet.
     Unable to look any longer, I turned on my heel and jogged back over to the car, brushing past my crying mother and popping open the trunk.
      Rummaging through one of the many suitcases we had packed for our trip, I pulled out a pair of navy blue leggings and a plain white t-shirt. I stripped off the bloody dress, using it to wipe my even bloodier hands as I stood there in my underwear.
     Once my hands were clean enough to not dirty the new clothes, I quickly threw them on before reaching back into the trunk, grabbing the ice scraper that my mom had packed 'in case of an emergency.' I think our situation qualified.
I slammed the trunk shut as I moved around the car to the front passenger seat, settling back into tan leather. I poked my head out the still open door, the ice scraper standing upright between my knees.
I spared only a second of pity for my sobbing mother before ordering her to get in the car and drive to the nearest gas station. She obeyed tearfully, walking on wobbly feet back towards the vehicle.
The second her shaky hands clasped around the wheel, we were off, the atmosphere tense and awkward. I allowed myself to rest against the window once again, letting my thoughts wander.
What now? Seemed to be the biggest question I had for myself. The gas station sounded like a good idea-- we could stock up on non-perishables, small camping items, and (obviously) gas. We already had tons of clothes in the suitcases we'd packed, so there was no need to worry about that. Meds would be important things to acquire, but I had a bad feeling about going back into a town or city-- those places were death traps for sure.
My head was spinning with worries by the time we pulled into the Shells station, and I couldn't bear sitting around any longer just stewing in them. I hoped out of the car, making sure to bring the ice scraper with me.
"Mom, fill it up," was all I said before heading into the store, the little bell jingling as the glass door opened.