Marylynne
I have been huddling in the crowded corner of my family's kitchen pantry. For the past eight hours I have been searching desperately and gathering any scrap of courage left to leave my "safe room". I still can't seem to wrap my head around the reality of it all. The apocalypse has begun, and the world has been over-run by zombies.
Finally gathering enough bravery, I chide myself with a, "Enough hiding, suck it up Lynne!" Settling on my haunches and, taking a deep breath, I ready myself to open the door. Springing from the small kitchen closet, I find myself across the cooking area in a matter of seconds. I quickly arm myself with a meat mallet and a large butcher knife.
A plan of survival forms in my mind and I begin to take action. I know my two grandparents, my only guardians, have become the undead. Quickly and quietly I slink along the wall to my grandpa's bedroom. Peeking into the room, I spot him idly standing by his open closet. An aching fills my chest at the sight. He looks so similar and, at the same time, so different. His short Native American stature was the same as my own. His once caramel-bronze skin, something I take after, had long turned a greyish white.
Before I can reveal to myself his blind white eyes, I bound across the room and shove him into his closet, effectively slamming the door on his once lively face. Without a millisecond of hesitation, I dash to the bathroom that once belonged to the zombie that was my grandpa. I rip the first aid kit off the wall and dash, just as quickly, down the small hallway that led to the garage. With the kit under my arm and a weapon in each hand, I swing my hip and bump the screen door open.
The garage was still and empty of life, living or otherwise, except for the cat and me. I toss the kit into the passenger seat of my grandma's Kia Optima and sprint back into the house. My heart is roaring in my ears as I race to my room on the other side of what was once my home. Scrambling, I find three bags; the first a small back pack I fill with my small collection of books, the second an overnight bag I fill with fresh clothes and other necessities, the third a large duffle bag taller than my 5'3 and ½ frame. I leave the duffel empty and dash back to the kitchen.
I drop the empty duffle on the kitchen floor and rush to throw the other bags in the trunk of the sleek, black car. Racing back into the kitchen, I grab the empty blue bag and fill its contents with all the nonperishable foods and water bottles I can find. Half the bag is still empty when I finish, so I load the rest up with all the weapons I can think of, using a towel as a divider. I load up knives galore and scissors and ammo for the shotgun now slung across my back.
The combined weights of the nearly full duffle and the double barrel shotgun are enough to cripple my gait to a slow staggering pace as I hull the bag into the backseat of the car. Quickly I grab the keys from the hook near the door, once I'm free of my burden, and slip into the driver's seat. The automatic seat adjusts to my height as I start the engine. Clicking the remote to open the garage door, I turn to back out, and almost hit my grandma!
"No, Lynne. She's a zom now, she's not here anymore. Nana is dead, same as Poppie." I whisper to myself, tears in my eyes. It kills me to see such a strong, prideful, loving woman fall to the "illness" as I've come to think of it. I avert my eyes from her so my memory of her will forever remain unstained.
Once out of the driveway I head to the first place I can think of; my best friend Nysa Ombre's house.
Nysa
"Nysa, calm down already."
"She just tried to eat my face off!"
"You're over reacting."
"Me? You're the one who threw a plate at her, screamed, and locked us in my closet." I point out. Andy is about to argue back but sees it as pointless. My parents are zombies. FREAKING ZOMBIES! I've been huddling in a corner at the back of my closet, in the fetal position, rocking back and forth. God, we must have been in this closet for eight hours. I have to use the bathroom soooooo bad.
"Andy.... We have a little problem," I say with a small nervous laugh," you see.... I have to.... Erm-...... Pee." Andy stares at me before looking around awkwardly. He finally grabbs a wooden bat and hands it to me.
"Good luck." My jaw drops. How dare he! That ass hole.
"How about this," I toss the bat back at him,"You stand guard." I don't give him a chance to disagree as I stand up and open the door slowly. My room is empty, besides the fact that I never clean it. I walk with my back against the wall to slowly and quietly unlock the door. The hallway is trashed. Pillows and pillow feathers cover the floor, while some kind of red slime covers the walls. Hmmmm..... Must be when Andy shut the door on them.
"Clear?" I jump as Andy spoke.
"Yea, come on." My room is literally right beside the bathroom so I am quite lucky for that. I flick on the light hesitantly but see nothing to fear. The tan and beige shower curtain is torn and covers the tub. I shut the door and lock it.
I quickly do my business and wash my hands. I look in the mirror and groan. My make-up is smeared from crying and my hair is tangled. I hear a loud bang on the door. I freeze; was that Andy? I nervously look around for anything I can use to defend myself with. Lets see, there must be something!
Hmmmmmm...... Hairspray, toothbrush, Q-tips, toilet plunger. Wait! Ah-ha!
"Toilet plunger." I smile and pick it up, preparing myself. "Andy?" I tentatively call out.
"Nysa!" Andy's scream of terror sends a shiver down my spine. I lurch forward and unlock the door, stopping before actually stepping outside. I start to panic as I take baby steps down the hall.
"Andy?" But no one answers back. The house is quiet. 'Too quiet', I think silently giggling in my head. No, focus. My boyfriend could be getting eaten and here I am laughing about a stupid quote from a movie! I stop at the end of my short hallway and look at the zombie free living room.
"NYSA!!" I scream as Andy snuck up behind me. Instinctively, I swing around the plunger and watch as he drops to the floor, knocked out cold. I gasp and let go of the plunger which is now stuck to his face.
"Andy? Um..... Andy?" I cautiously poke him but he doesn't move. I look around and grab him by the hands, dragging him into my room, locking the door behind me. Great. Now what am I going to do!
A banging sounds on my door and I scream; hurriedly yanking the toilet plunger off Andy's face. I run to my bed and curl into a ball. 'Zombies can't open doors. Zombies can't open doors. Zombies better not be able to open doors!' I begin rocking back and forth as the banging slowly ceases.
A slow, drug out groan fills the silence and my head snaps up as my eyes focus on Andy's body. My grip tightens on the plunger when he sits up.
"Jesus Nysa, why did you do that!" I relax when I realize he is still a human.
"You scared me!"
"So you hit me with a toilet plunger?!" I laugh as I notice the red ring around his nose, all the way to his chin.
