Clumps


    of my brunette hair fell into the sink, mixing with the tears that


    had already fallen as I had accepted that shaving my head was a


    necessary step in my survival. Not only would a buzz cut prevent a


    zombie from grabbing me by the hair, but I needed to remove all


    unnecessary wastes of energy I could think of. Gloria had been


    helping me with washing and drying my hair, braiding it for me after


    it was done to keep it tangle free and without assistance my long


    hair would quickly become filthy and matted. Even if I tried to keep


    it and kept it tucked tightly under a hat, the dirty, greasy feeling


    would wear on my mind and it would end up with me shaving it


    eventually anyway. I stared back into my own, tired and sunken hazel


    eyes as I put down the electric trimmer and tried to come to terms


    with my new appearance.


    The woman who looked back at me was not the person I pictured in


    my mind. I still thought of myself as the energetic twenty something


    that worked designing landscaping and spent her weekends wandering


    home improvement store and garden centres looking for new,


    interesting, or suffering plants to bring home and add to her


    collection. That girl had been twenty pounds lighter, clear skin, and


    not a wrinkle to be seen. I hadn’t even realized that sometime in


    the past few years wrinkles between my eyebrows had begun to appear


    where I furrowed them together through frequent pain. Also there had


    been a not insignificant amount of silver hairs I had just buzzed


    away. I swallowed hard as I finally looked away and began to clean


    the long hair from the sink. I didn’t have the time to dwell on it,


    but there was a pit in my stomach from how unfair it felt that so


    many precious years of my life had already been taken by being sick.


    Next on my list was to scour the bathtub to be as clean as


    possible, then fill it to the brim with water. There was always the


    possibility that water might stay on for a little while, but there


    would be no one monitoring it at the very least so after the next


    couple of days I would be unwilling to think of it as safe. Getting


    as much water stored as possible was priority number one until I


    could figure out an alternative way to get relatively safe drinking


    water.


    After becoming sick, my ability to care for all the plants I had


    evaporated and I had sold quite a few cuttings and whole plants to


    fund the time period between losing my job and finally winning my


    disability fight. It had been extremely demoralizing and painful to


    completely give up the hobby I loved, but in a way it was coming in


    handy now as I pulled the box full of my favorite propagation vases


    and flower pots from my tiny closet with shaking hands. The energy


    gel had worn off a little while ago, but I couldn’t slow down. My


    body was started to send out strong warnings like shaking muscles and


    twinges of pain in my swollen joints. I couldn’t listen just yet, I


    needed just a little more effort before I could rest. I set the box


    in front of my walker and gently pushed it to the bathroom.


    The dozen vases didn’t hold much, but something was better than


    nothing and I already planned to fill every single, bowl, mug, and


    pot in the kitchen so this was just a little extra insurance. The


    real prize was all the ceramic plant pots I couldn’t use to store


    water due to the drainage holes. The smallest one was destined to be


    shattered into shards and somehow manufactured into makeshift


    weapons. I hadn’t quite worked out yet exactly what I was planning


    or when I would need a weapon, but I would have to leave at some


    point and when I did I would need to be prepared for the worst. The


    others would sit and wait for the off chance I could find fruit and


    vegetable scraps. It was a long shot, but combined with the bag of


    potting soil still sitting in the closet I had a small chance to start a


    subsistence garden.


    I ditched the walker at the entrance to the kitchen and started pulling every single container I


    could find from the cupboards and filled them all at the sink. Then I scrubbed and plugged, then filled the sink with water as well. The bathroom tap would have to


    be the only running tap for washing for as long as it lasted. While


    the pots, pans, glasses, mugs and bowls had taken up every bit of


    counter space and then some also placed back in the cupboard and on


    the tiny dining table, I knew it would not end up lasting me for very


    long. However, water was checked off my list for now with a mental


    note to put it as priority for the next.


    Last thing I did before shuffling back to bed was to gather all my


    steak knives, a box cutter, roll of duct tape, a half a bottle of


    super glue, and any other zip tie or other fastener from the junk drawer I could


    think might come in handy. Carefully and slowly, I shuffled back to


    bed while trying to push from my mind the mental image of me tripping


    and stabbing myself on all the sharp objects in my arms. It would


    feel in theme with the path of my life to trip and bleed out to a


    random accident before any zombie could even find me.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Making it across the room unscathed, I plopped all the contents of


    my arms onto the bed where my feet would usually go and leaned


    forward on my trembling arms against the wall and took deep breaths.


    The muscles in my arms burned, my lower back was throbbing in time


    with my heartbeat, my vision was feeling cloudy, and my legs were


    getting almost too heavy to lift. Nothing I had done so far would


    have been physically taxing for a healthy person, but I was not


    healthy and even the simple moving of objects, bending over, and


    shuffling around my apartment was exhausting. I had spent a long time


    learning my body’s new limits and how to respect them and it was


    obvious that I was currently ignoring them and blowing right past


    them. The past taught me that I could continue ignoring them and


    pushing for a time, but the longer I pushed through, the harder the


    eventual crash was going to be. I knew I would have to be strategic


    and plan for the crashes, make sure that I had supplies and was safe


    while they happened, but they would be risky none the less. There


    would be no one to check on me and that fact scared me to the bone.


    Unwilling to dwell on the mounting dark worries and thoughts, I


    pushed back from the wall with a sharp inhale from the pain in my


    back and heavily thumped myself onto the other side of the bed. My


    heart skipped a beat as I heard a loud, bubbling gurgle come through


    the floor below me. I needed to learn to be much quieter and more


    careful. Obviously my building was already compromised and I needed


    to start learning how to be stealthy. I had yet to hear any commotion


    in my own hallway, but it felt like it would only be a matter of time


    before zombies wandered their way in from the city streets and


    aimlessly walked through buildings. I couldn’t predict exactly what


    would happen, but that felt likely given every fictional depiction of


    zombies I had ever seen. Of course that was with the assumption that the


    real zombies lost their sense of how to properly interact with the


    world and my blood ran cold at the idea that maybe they would retain


    their ability to open doors and windows.


    Careful to hold down the volume button as I pressed power on the


    remote, I switched on the TV. I always kept the sound low to


    accommodate my avoidance of overstimulation, but I didn’t want any additional


    constant hum that might attract unwanted attention. The scene


    immediately on the screen was of a darkening city street from a


    helicopter view, people running like flowing water away from


    snarling, gnashing zombies. Police and military barricades had been


    set up at the end of the city block and by the way it was fenced with


    razor wire I assumed it was a hastily thrown together safe area. The


    flash of fire from the end of guns increased in frequency as the


    horde grew closer on the civilians pushing desperately to get through


    the checkpoint until it was constant flashes. Eventually the line between the


    living and undead blurred until it was a sea of mass confusion,


    people being not only pulled down by zombies but trampled as people


    threw down others to attempt to save themselves.


    The safe area had quickly filled to capacity and the line of


    zombies was getting perilously close to the gate. Military and police


    who had been along the side of the street before the gate pushed past


    the people clambering to get in and secured along the inside of the


    gate, the barrel of their guns poking through the chain link. There


    must have been an order given and the gates on the safe zone were


    pushed closed, giving no care to the people still desperately clawing


    their way in. The camera cut away to a camera drone that flew close


    to the closing gate, the screen was filled with screaming, terrified


    faces, many of them already bloodied and bruised. For a few tense


    moments the people against the now closed gate kept pushing, begging


    to be let in, but their requests were met with more gunfire and those


    that survived had no choice but to scatter, breaking windows and


    doors of the buildings nearby to find an escape point away from the


    encroaching zombie horde. The scene cut away to female newscaster


    whose professional bun hairstyle had begun to completely come apart,


    her eyes were sunken and hollow and off camera she had obviously been


    crying heavily.


    There were closed captions, but I was honestly too stunned to pay


    attention, my brain was trying to catch up with what I had just


    witnessed. I had been operating under the assumption that I needed to


    prepare for the worst case scenario, yet I had been holding out at


    least a little hope that I was just overreacting and that things


    would get brought under control. Those hopes had been completely


    destroyed and I had to face what I already didn’t want to accept.


    This was it, this was going to be the world now and I have to


    approach everything I do as it could be the last decision I make. The


    primal terror flowed through me, making my already shaky body quiver


    like I was naked in an ice storm and my stomach clenched and


    threatened to vomit. The faces of the people realizing they were


    locked out of the gate and left for certain death by gunfire or by


    being torn apart by zombies would haunt my dreams for the rest of my


    life. However long that would end up being.