The Plague

Chapter 2: The Beginning

Parents, being parents, kept the big news from me for a long time. I knew there was something going on, since everyone at school talked about it. When the neighbor just two houses away got infected. They had to break it to me. My only words were: "I've been waiting my whole life for this." I started carrying my zombie kit everywhere. I doused my entire wardrobe in zombie repellent. I carried around a pack of bandages around me everywhere. I was forced to encounter my first zombie in the stall of a highway rest stop. I tried to send it away by spraying it in the face with my repellent. Obviously that did not work. I had to kill it by beating it with the can. I cried for a week. A few days after that I realized my zombie kit was a fraud.

Three months into the epidemic, I had my slowly changing parents kept in my basement. Seven times we tried leaving the island, but every boat in every dock was heavily guarded. The people who did manage to escape was shot down in minutes. Every person who traveled out of the island in the last week was tracked down and forced them to return to the island. To avoid disease spread. Eventually my parents had ingested the blood of their infected friends. I kept myself isolated after the school shut down. I once went three days without touching the light of day. Soon enough, after seeing the pain my parents were clearly going through, I put them down after seven hours of contemplating my entire existence. I buried them in the backyard. The population of the island went from eighty thousand to a quick eight thousand. In three weeks.
My first real zombie encounter was a month after my parents died. The one from the bathroom had only recently been bitten, and tried to fight it's urge to rip me apart. If it had been fully changed, I would be dead.
I had raided a weapons store. A huge bayonet knife and a shotgun I didn't even know how to use.
A creature came at me as I was raiding a food store. As portrayed in movies, people would think that the creatures of the dead would be loud and slow. This thing was as quiet as the wind, and came at me with Usain Bolt type of speed. I would have died if my knife was not in my hand at the moment. The thing tackled me with the force of an angry gorilla. The wind blew out of my lungs. Right before it ripped out my jugular with it's teeth, I jabbed it with my blade into its neck. It screamed and fell scrambled on the tile floor. I threw myself up, spitting zombie blood out of my mouth. Suddenly, it stood up with great succession, gleaning at me, as if I had never shoved a five inch blade into its throat. It breathed heavily at me, it's lifeless dark eyes looked at me, never even twitching. We both charged each other at the same time. Zombies are extremely powerful, but they lose their footing very quickly. I shoved him onto the floor. It trifled a scream right before I forced my blade into the flat of its chin. When it did not stop struggling, I took it out and thrusted it in again. And again. And again. Until it finally went silent. I left the food store, for my appetite had left me. For the next three days, for that matter. I knew at that moment that I would have to do whatever I must to survive, and I did.