BOOK ONE
She had her whole life planned.
What she didn't plan for was the zombie apocalypse.
Eighteen-year-old Arryn Lycaster just graduated high school. With aspirations of becoming a veterinarian, she's ready to take the next step forward in lif...
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Silence.
The house held an eerie quiet within its walls. She closed her eyes with her back against the door, listening intently for her father. She didn't know what she expected. Maybe moans of the undead from the kitchen? Or strangled gasps of her dying father from behind the leather couch? Her morbid thoughts refused to think of anything positive.
Despite her imagination, only the faint hum of electronics rang in her ears. Along with the rapid pounding of her heart.
She studied the dimly lit room, looking for any signs of a struggle. The couches remained as they had, with the white rug sitting underneath. Mom's magazines lay strewn about on the coffee table with the remote sitting closer to Dad's recliner. On the far wall, the houseplants sat untouched on their shelves in view of the window far off the ground. They were kept there to prevent Oliver from getting into them.
Oliver.
Muted thunder rolled in the distance.
With everything going on, she'd forgotten about him. He'd been sleeping this morning when she left. Could he be one of them? A Rabid? Surely he would have shown more signs if he was going down that path... right?
She didn't know anymore.
Walking over to the coffee table, she picked up a frame containing a photo of her family. It was taken a few years back. They looked so happy... so alive. What she wouldn't give to have that now.
In between the waves of static flashing on the muted television, Arryn swore she could make out a news report of some kind. She stepped closer with squinted eyes. The blurred image of a city hid between the lines. She saw bright, orange splotches overtaking silver structures while dark figures raced across the screen.
The image cut to a blank red screen. Transparent text appeared, growing opaque as more formed underneath it. She read what she could make out.
Stay inside and lock doors.
Avoid contact with the infected.
Help is on the way.
How reassuring. Help couldn't bring her family back.
She turned away from the television, anger spiking within her.
"Dad?" she called out. Her hands flew to her regretful lips, but she couldn't take back the words resounding off the walls.
Only her echo answered back.
Sweat collected on her palms as she took a cautious step forward. The wood flooring groaned, resounding just like her echo off the walls. Her heartbeat grew louder, beating hard enough against her ribcage for her to chance a glance at her chest to ensure it was still in place.
Thunder sent vibrations throughout the house, rattling the picture frames and flower pots against the walls. The natural, grey light slipping past the drawn curtains faded and a heavy gust of wind slammed against the house. Creaks and pops sounded around her.
