《ZombieMart》


 CH1: Creepy Hospital and CH2: Epic Back Story

    I wake up with a start. This is weird, no annoying alarm clock? "What is it mom?" I moan as I roll to go back to sleep.


    But something is wrong. This is not my blanket. With ajolt of surprise, I open my eyes and take in my surroundings. The walls are bleached white instead of gray and covered with medical charts rather than my band posters. My fuzzy bedroom carpet has been replaced with a checkered tile floor. Why am I in the hospital? I think as my head throbs. I hope I''m not in trouble, but a feeling in my gut tells me otherwise.


    I groan as I sit up, not wanting to move but too curious to stay down. I realize that I''m dressed in a scummy white medical gown and a clean pair of khakis. I check to see if my normal clothes are anywhere in the room, but I can''t find them. I notice that the door is barred. Wierd. It doesn''t look like a clean barricade either, just a few pieces of plywood haphazardly blocking a door. If I was in a hospital, why is the door barred? Was I in that much trouble? What did I do? I think as I struggle to remember any reason I would be in a hospital. Nothing.


    I look around the room. The light switch is flipped on, but the lights must be broken because the only light glimmered in from a nearby window. Speaking of the window, it''s cracked. The wooden chairs surrounding my bed are also broken, splinters scattered across the roomas if there had been some struggle. The tile is stained with dried blood.


    Blood. Something is way wrong.


    I hear a pounding at a door. The pounding is weird. If a person wants to get in, they could just knock on the door a few times. But this is a constant thump...thump...thump... as if an animal is repeatedly running into the door. I imagine a confused Rottweiler constantly head-butting the door. That sounds pretty stupid.


    I stand up and take a few deep breaths. My heart rate picks up. I need to figure out where I am and what I have to do. Save for the broken chairs and shattered glass on the floor, the room is empty. There are only two exits, the window and the door. The thumping is creepy, maybe I can get out the window. I look outside.


    My hospital is on the perimeter of the city. I''m looking away from downtown. There is nothing of major interest, just trees, hills, and more trees. Typical West Virginia. Ain''t nothing here. The sky is gray and macabre. The sun is close to setting, so I guess it''s about five o''clock. Located about ten feet away from me is an American flag whipping in the wind. The flag bolsters my spirits. At the least, I''m home. Then I look down. I see two bodies lying on the ground. They are splattered in blood. It takes my brain a moment to process. My brain clicks, and I freak out.


    My animal instincts tell me to get out of this building -- now. Adrenaline pumps through my body as I rush towards the source of the pounding. I could care less if it was a hundred-fifty pound Rottweiler, I''m getting out of here. Carelessly, I tear away the makeshift barricade and throw the door open, ready for whatever is on the other side.


    I scream. Staring straight at me is a man, but he looks sick. Horribly sick. His skin is olive green and rotting off his frame. Flies swarm around his face. Bloodshot deathly red eyes bore into me. Looks like the thing had been messing around with hardcore drugs. His hair is cool, though. It was wild but in a stylish way, a sweet cut really. I¡¯ll have to try it sometime after I heroically escape this awful place. I gag at the smell of rotten flesh. There are various festering gashes on his body. It moans. Well, it''s kind of a screaming sound, but it could be classified as a moan. Perhaps the sound is best described as a scream-moan. The creature lurches towards me.


    Relying on my animal instincts that had clearly gotten me so far, I pick up a leg of one the smashed chairs and break it across the creature''s rib cage. The thing stumbles backward, but it does not seem to feel pain. The man, creature, or whatever it is regains its posture and continues the horrid death march. I realize that without a proper weapon there is no stopping it.


    My mind jolts through the remaining options for survival. I have to kill the thing if I want to get out. I guess I could jump out the window. I''m pretty high up, the fall might wound or kill me -- but it''s my only choice. I need to distract it and make a dash for the window.


    I hopelessly glance at my bed, and with a rush realize that my mattress is on wheels. Desperate, I lunge for my bed and shove it at the monster. The mattress flops off the bed, but the undercarriage smashes into the creature''s lower shin, toppling the creature on its nasty face. It moans. Well, it''s not dead, but I have more time.


    I grab the last intact piece of the chair and head for the window. I look down at the ground and hesitate. I''m three stories up, it''s about a thirty-foot drop. I might survive the fall, but there will be major bone damage even if I live. Which I might not. Guess it would kind of suck to die.


    The flag catches my eye. The flagpole, of course! It''ll be a far jump. I think I can make it, though. I do hardcore stunts like this on a weekly basis.


    With the chair leg, I smash the remaining glass of the window, giving me enough room to stand on the ledge. Don''t look down I think immediately before staring down. My stomach drops. The ground. The bodies. Dead bodies are messed up. They mess my brain up. My brain gets hyper. I don''t know about this I think. Then I hear a scream-moan behind me.


    I leap for the flagpole.


    Wind rips against my face as I fly through the air. Clang! My head smashes against the flagpole as I awkwardly lock my arms. My hands burn as I slide to a painful stop. Gasping for air, I decide not to move. I have no idea what is going on, but until my arms tire, I will be safe here -- hugging onto a flagpole near some random zombie-infected hospital. Safe for sure.


    Chapter 2: Epic Back Story


    Ok, if this is confusing, which it really should be, my life wasn''t always like this. Yesterday was normal. Too normal really. Guess I''ll just recap the day so you can understand. Everybody needs a back story, right? Even me. It''s a bit boring, but that''s life right? Totally boring until the zombies run in and stir crap up.


    Cue dramatic flashback.


    Buzz... Buzz... Buzz... I smack my alarm clock. 7:00 already? I think groggily as I sit up. It''s Thursday. Thursday''s stink.


    I throw my blankets on the ground and stumble out of my room. I reach the bathroom and starting brushing my teeth, thinking I hate school.... 80% of my classes are a complete waste of time, most my teachers were either unintelligent, completely lazy, or both, and my peers seemed to be obsessed with drugs, fast food, and sex. I like fast food. The McDonalds dollar menu is amazing.


    I throw on a pair of jeans and my favorite Super Mario T-shirt. I unwillingly march down to find my Mom waiting for me. "Hey sweetie, ready for school!" she said with a bright smile.


    My mom was in her late forties, but she looked like she was about thirty-five. She grew up in Russia and came to America for education. Although I loved her, she could never understand my problems. If only she had grown up in America.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Yeah mom, just let me eat," I reply grumpily. On the living room table, my Mom had set a box of Reeses Puffs, a gallon of skim milk, and a bowl. I pour the puffs into the bowl, followed by the skim milk, and start eating. Skim milk is my favorite. It''s protein to fat ratio is untouchable.


    Once I finished my cereal, I toss my books in my backpackand head off towards the car. By now, most of my friends had their own cars, but my Mom still drove me around. This really bothers me, because I wanted to be an independent, free person. You know, I wanted to be one of those cool kids or whatever. I try not to complain about it all the time, but it is still frustrating being stuck as an awkward kid.


    As usual, my mom is racing to school. "Oh I''m caught behind a slow-poke," she moans. "Look at this guy! He''s driving 20 in a 25 zone!" My mom impatiently taps her fingers on the steering wheel. I sigh. I always get to school ten minutes early, there is no reason we have to rush. I''ve told her that hundreds of times. She just likes to rush I guess.


    Once we got to school, I step out of the car -- looking around to see if anybody saw me. I''m definitely self-conscious about being dropped off by my mom. "Bye sweetie!" my mom yells and waves. Why does she do that! I internally fume. With that, she zooms off in her car, rushing to wherever she had to go to next.


    And there it is. Thomas Jefferson high school. The jail that I''m locked in eight hours a day every weekday for the last two and a half years. My mind tells me to run away, but there was nowhere to go. What other choices did I have, live in the woods and eat worms? Sleep in a tree or a cave? Sleeping in a cave might be kind of cool, to be honest. I could be like a rad, modern day cave man. But I don''t even know where to find a cave.


    No, Like everybody else, I have to go to high school so I could go to college, so I can live one of those boring, cookie-cutter lives like everybody else in this boring, cookie-cutter world. There is no better option, at least according to my parents and teachers, so I walk towards Thomas Jefferson, the biggest and baddest high school in the state of West Virginia.


    Class starts in five minutes, and the cafeteria is packed with kids eating breakfast and talking. I''m terrified of the cafeteria. There is something about a room stuffed with my peers that makes me uncomfortable. To be honest, social gatherings in general make me uncomfortable, but this is a worst case scenario. To get to the library I have to walk through the cafeteria, so I stare at the ground and shuffle towards thelibrary. As I walk I can hear hundreds of students on either side of me, completely surrounding me. The cacophony of the room sounds like a group of unruly monkeys. It only lasts a few seconds, then I make it to the library. With a sigh of relief, I log onto the computer. I don''t have anything to do, so I stare at the blank computer screen for five minutes. I know that staring into a blank computer screen sounds pretty stupid, but it''s better than the cafeteria. Anything is better than the cafeteria.


    Finally, the first bell rings and I go to civics class. I sit down next to my friend, Dominick Costa. Dom¡¯s pitch black hair is out of whack, and he stares at me with dark eyes. "Dude, morning classes suck bro. Stupid established systems that force the powerless teen to succumb to the masses man."


    I laugh. "Dom, this is Coach Snicker here. He is the best in the business"


    Dom moans. "Bro, he may be the biggest in the business. I dunno about best though. Imma peace out. I''m done with this." With that, Dom goes straight to sleep, head face down on his desk.


    Our teacher, Coach Snicker, was a football coach who also taught Civics on the side. For some reason, people called him Coach Snicker. I could never figure out why, but with a mountain dew in one hand and a sausage biscuit in the other: Coach Snicker looks ready for class.


    Coach Snicker may have been a star athlete in high school, but he is in his mid-thirties now and completely out of shape. The man is as wide as a walrus. He had managed to find a belt big enough for him, surprising the entire class. His no-nonsense haircut and strong country accent make his lectures entertaining.


    Coach Snicker waddles to the front of the room to start his lecture. "You see kids, let me tell yall how votin'' works. What you need to do is register. Now you can either register as a Republican, Democrat, or Independent. Now, I''m a registered Republican, but you have the right to your opinion. If you¡¯re feelin'' like a liberal-ass-liberal, you can go and be Democrat. America will let you be stupid. You just better not take away meh shotgun!" Awkward pause in class. Nobody really knows what to think about that.


    Coach Snicker continues, "As I was saying, once you get to be 18, go and vote. It''s your responsibility as a citizen of America. Bout the most important thing you''ll do in your life. Ya see, when you vote, it¡¯s because a thing called democracy. And democracy is a thing called freedom! Alright yall, learn about that freedom in pages 25-35 in yer textbook "


    That lecture inspired me and a couple other students to learn about government systems ("freedom") in our textbook. The rest of the class is either staring into empty space, texting, or sleeping. I trudge through the reading as Civics is a subject that will never excite me. Coach Snicker watches over his class like a bulldog, with only short breaks to munch on his biscuit.


    The bell rings and Dom is still out. I shake him until he wakes. He looks at me with confused eyes and flashes a pointed smile.


    "Dude, I was having the most rad dream man. There was this guy and this girl and this talking tree, and maybe even a flying polar bear.... Why''d you have to come in and ruin it?"


    "Just go to your next class Dom."


    "Alright, Alright, I''m on my way. Sheesh chill out." Dom groans as he gets out of his seat and wanders off towards his next class.


    For me it''s time for the health class, probably the most useless class ever invented. Of course, health and physical fitness are important, but this class, at least at my school, never helps anybody achieve either of thoseor anything else. Of course, I''m just talking about my health class. I''m not trying to be a hater or anything.


    Our health teacher is Mister Robby. Mister Robby has been around awhile, and usually just turns on a movie instead of teaching. He wrote something on the board today, meaning he was going to give a lecture.


    Today''s lecture is on the same old boring junk. Probably nutrition or something, I don''t pay attention.


    I''m hanging out in the back of the class with my friend and the class giant, Lenny Rogers.


    We are playing paper football. Mr. Robby sees usbut doesn''t really care.


    I flick the paper football in kick off.


    "Hey Lenny, why don''t you play real football? I bet you could get all the girls and be cool and stuff if you did."


    Lenny knocks the football back with his massive hand.


    Lenny scoffs. "Wish I could. Nah, I''s got workin'' to do. My family ain''t got rolls of cash like yers does."


    I sigh. Lenny does construction work after school and on the weekends. His dad is a cashier at Wendy¡¯s, so he doesn''t get much income.


    "Yeah I guess you¡¯re right. Maybe it''s for the better. Some football players are arrogant jerks anyways."


    Lenny smacks his hand on the desk. "Way to stereotype, yah asshole."


    I smile. "Whoa Lenny, where did you learn the word stereotype?"


    Lenny looks confused. "It''s written on the board, smartypants."


    I look at the whiteboard, and there it is.


    "Oh yeah. Nice Lenny. Applying class stuff. Cool"


    The bell rings, and Lenny and I sprint out of health class. We play a little game to see who can get out the fastest. I usually win, unless Lenny shoves me out of the way.


    I get out the door first.


    "Skinny lil'' jerk" Lenny wheezes behind me. "Ah ya, Eric, yah outta try this!" Lenny says as he whips a can of Monster out of his backpack.


    "Eww, I''m scared of that stuff, bro," I reply.


    "Nah, this ain''t nothing to be scared ¡®bout''" Lenny thumps the can in my chest. "It gives me strength when I''m workin''. You outta try one before you run. Make ya'' run faster." Lenny knows that I run track and he¡¯s always talking about energy drinks. I¡¯ll just take it to humor him.


    "I''ll think about it," I promise Lenny as I put away the can.


    I say goodbye to Lenny and head to chemistry. This is the class that the whole school hates with passion, but it really is overhyped. Mr. Frigg, our teacher, makes the concepts more difficult than they really are. Today is lecture day. My assigned seat is way in the back of the room. We are going through electrochemistry. I tried to stay awake for an entire forty-five minutes of reduction potentials and galvanic cells. Finally, the bell rings. You know what, I''m tired of this back-story. Let¡¯s get back to zombies.

 CH3: Flagpole Sitta

    I have played surplus video games; so I know what is going on. Or at least I think I know what is going on. Ok, honestly ------ screw it -- I may have a vague idea of what is going on. I mean what do you expect, me to be some sort of zombie expert? No man, I''m just a kid.


    But I do know that this is some kind of zombie apocalypse scenario. That means that somehow, someway humans are infected with a disease that causes them to morph into zombies. Now, there are many different scenarios depicted in games, but if I had to guess the zombies are probably contagious. They may be weak in sunlight but capable of withstanding the sun for at least short periods of time. Or who knows, maybe the sun doesn''t bother them at all. But almost definitely, zombies have the mental capacity of a sea sponge, but infinite determination and pain tolerance.


    The sun is still out, so I glance around for any sign of wandering zombie. Nothing. Well, this is West Virginia, so the hills block most of my field of vision, but still I don''t see anything. They must either be scarce or prefer dark places.


    And -- by the way -- I''m still hanging on this freaking flagpole. It''s a pretty crappy place to strategize and take in the situation, but hey, sometimes we all make dumb choices.


    My arms are starting to burn, so I tenderly slide down. My head throbs after smashing it, but this was no time to worry about minor injuries. If I can stay calm I will be able to survive this I think. No problem. I''m a 4:42 miler, why should I be scared of a couple zombies? Heck, I bet my Mom could... Wait, what if she is infected? I think. Then it hits me. My whole world is falling apart. My eyes fill with tears as I realize that I may never see my parents again. I break down, crying like a overgrown child, smashing my fist against the soft ground. Stupid soft ground. You shouldn''t be able to absorb the blows. I want my hand to die in pain when I strike the ground. I want to pain of failure to course through my hand. What failure? When did I mess up? I''m not sure. Did I mess up? I dunno. Guess I did somewhere.


    I weep for several moments until I am emotionless and sit on the ground in silence.


    I don''t know where to go or what to do. This is weird. I''m in a really weird situation. I wish my health teacher would have gone into zombie survival tactics I think as I wipe my tears. Would of been more practical. I knew it. Should of told him. I''ll have to check that down on my list of life regrets.


    "Health class" I grumble. "Always freakin'' health class"


    I realize that the sun is setting and I need to make a plan if I want to survive. I rack my brain for possible solutions. My house is about twenty miles from here. If I can somehow get a car or a bike then I could reach my house and look for my parents. Big Problem: I will have to go through the middle of the city to find my parents. Because more people results in more zombies, the city is bound to be a high danger area. Guess I can''t see my parents for awhile.


    What I need are weapons and shelter.


    I search around to see if I can find any zombie-killing gear. On my right is a forest. I''m not going to simply uncover a double barrel shotgun out in the woods, but I guess I can get a big stick and a few rocks. I figure I can jam a few decent sized throwing rocks into my kaki''s pockets. I cautiously approach the forest, trying to find a stick that can double as a club. Heh, I''ve always wanted to kill things with a club, like some crazed beast. Time for me to go caveman style.


    As soon as I enter the trees I smell the familiar scent of musky bark and dead worms. Gosh, that smells so good. Why? It shouldn''t. It''s just the freakin'' woods. But it does.


    The trees are still sparse, this is shallow wood. With zombies about, the deep forest will be almost as dangerous as the city. I forage for rocks, and find a decent sized stick that looks sturdy. It''s not a club, but oh well. Doesn''t really matter I guess. To test the strength of the wood, I smash the branch against a nearby boulder. The stick resonates in my hands, but doesn''t break or crack. After another twenty minutes I pick out ten decent sized rocks for throwing. That''s about all I could jam in my pockets. Satisfied with my meager supply of weapons, I now need shelter.


    I wish I could make something, but I had never made any hut or lean-to out of sticks. Come to think of it, I''ve never made a hut or lean-to out of anything. I''m going to blame health class again. We should cover that crap in health class too.


    I think I could figure it out eventually, but I have about an hour until sundown and need to act fast. The best option would be to go Hunger Games style and sleep in a tree. If you haven''t read Hunger Games, the protagonist, Katniss, sleeps in a tree for some part of the book. I forget why she does it really. Wait, wasn''t that book fiction? Well, duh it was, it was post-apocalyptic or whatever. Then why would I try something from a fiction book? That''s pretty dumb -- but also I don''t have a choice. It''s tree sleeping or ground sleeping. And ground sleeping will probably kill me.


    I wonder through the woods, looking for a suitable climbing tree. From behind me, I heard a loud scream-moan. Heart racing, I grip my stick like a baseball bat, turn around, and swing at the sound with all my might.


    I swipe into the air, throwing myself off balance. A zombie stands about ten feet in front of me. The creature advances on me while I try to gain my composure. Frantically I swipe at the zombie again, this time smashing the creature in the gut. Aim for the head you retard! I think. The zombie is bent over from the stomach blow, so I grip my stick with both hands and go in for a finishing smash. I sharply strike the zombie in the dome. Blood sprays everywhere as the zombie let out a final scream-moan. First zombie kill. Sweet.


    I stare at the corpse of the creature. It''s a boy, only about fifteen years old. Oh crap man, maybe that wasn''t so sweet. That could have been me I think with a shiver. Sure he was pale green, with four teeth, bloodshot eyes, and too many gashes to count, but still feels wrong. I look at my bloody hands. Thoughtlessly, I tried to wipe the blood off on the gown I''m wearing. My hands smear all over my clothes, leaving a gruesome streak of blood on the front of my formerly white clothes.


    If somebody saw me now, they would run away screaming. I look like a mass murderer. I''m not so sure if killing zombies this is the right thing to do. Could I cure them? I ponder. There has to be a way somehow... Health class... No we never went over that... What did we learn in health?... I''m not sure... After thinking for several minutes I conclude that maybe I would find a way someday, but for now, I had to focus on basic survival.


    The sun is setting -- can I find a climbable tree already?! There it is! A happy tree with low hanging branches! I run up and grab the lowest branch, scampering up the tree. Once I get to the top I look around to get my bearings. In one direction is more and more woods. In the other direction is Charleston. Now I just have to figure out how to sleep in this thing.


    Don''t let anybody tell you otherwise, sleeping in a tree sucks. It takes me forever to find a position where I''m not going to fall off, and it''s far from comfortable. I only fall asleep for short periods of time, just to wake up to my back screaming in pain. I try to stretch out and go back to sleep, but that only half- works. By the time the sun rises I''m hardly rested and dying for a real place to stay. My throat is completely dry and my stomach growls in hunger. I would rather be mauled by a zombie than starve to death, stuck up here in this stupid tree like a cowardly squirrel! I think in frustration. Wait, are squirrels really cowardly? I''m not sure. I kind of think of them that way... Maybe I''m being unfair... Hmm... Never mind! I got to get down from here! With that, I awkwardly slide down from my tree, hitting the ground with a thump, somewhat ready to take on the world.


    I need some water. My throat is dead dry. I explore the woods, hoping to uncover a creek, river, or anything to wet my mouth. I stumble on a rock, nearly rolling my ankle. This would be a awful time for an injury. I force myself to be more careful, closely watching the treacherous forest floor with every step. I hear a faint sound of rippling water and head straight for it. I emerge from a dense cluster of trees and there it is, a stream! Thankfully it did not appear to be contaminated by submerged zombie corpses, so I gorge myself on the cool fluid. I''m pretty addicted to soda, so I usually don''t drink much water, but this stream tastes amazing. I want to chill here forever, not worrying about zombies or my empty stomach, but unfortunately both of those problems exist, so I get up and started thinking about food.


    I briefly consider consuming raw zombie flesh, but that was almost definitely going to infect me. Maybe I can hunt...


    I pick up a decent sized rock. I never play baseball, but when I get bored, sometimes I work on my rock throwing skills. Realistically I knew that it was going to be impossibly difficult to hit a small woodland creature with a thrown rock, but I feel like I have to try. I need those effort points.


    I wander the woods until I find my unsuspecting prey. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a squirrel perching on a log about thirty feet away. As deftly as possible, I launch my pebble at the small, cowardly beast. The little thing leaps out of the way with superhuman speed and my projectile misses by several feet. Yup, looks like there is no potential for killing any small prey with thrown pebbles. That squirrel was wimp. If it was brave, it would have taken that rock to the face. Or maybe that would be just stupid. Hard to tell a difference sometimes.


    I sigh and try not to think about food. There we go again, I start thinking about food. The "try not to think strategy" is terrible. There has to be some building close by with decent food supply right? The hospital! It''s probably stocked with supplies. It would also offer a nice place to sleep and offer protection from the zombies! Then I remember my green friend on the third floor and hesitate. He is still there and he is most likely not the lone zombie in the building. My stomach grumbles. I try to focus and think diligently about whether I should go back or not, but my head aches from the lack of food and sleep. Screw it, I''m going to the hospital I decide rashly. I march out of the forest.


    It doesn''t take me long to get to the hospital. The building itself is six stories high and built from white stone that is fading into a pale gray. Like the one in my room, most the windows had been shattered. The creepy building makes my skin crawl. I hate hospitals man. Even when they aren''t infected by zombies. All those dying patients and angsty nurses. It''s a terrible combo. Reminds me of death and mortality. I''m sure not all nurses are angsty by the way. Just the ones I meet.


    Nervous, I tightly grip my stick as if it were a katana. For a moment, it''s like I''m in Skyrim. I''m about to explore a dungeon and get some mean loot. All I need to do is hack and slash my way through a few zombies, that''s it. No big. I do this in video games all the time. Just kill me some monsters.


    My heart starts to race as I approach the door and realize that this is real life. I can''t respawn if I die. For a moment, I''m frozen in fear at the hospital door. I then remember my mission and I kick open the door. The door swings open in a flash. This feels pretty sweet. I just kicked open a door, like a boss. Yeah.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    I stare into the dark abyss of the hospital, expecting a hoard of zombies to rush out. Or at least two or three, which is probably more than I can handle anyways. I stand there in anticipation, my shaking hands clenching on the wooden stick. Several moments pass and nothing happens. I lower the weapon in relief. Sweet, maybe I got lucky and the hospital is somehow zombie-free. I walk inside, gaining confidence.


    The reception room is trashed. Tables are knocked over and the floor is covered with blood. The normal hospital smell is tainted with the putrid stench of rotten meat. On both sides of me are sets of stairs leading to the higher levels of the hospital. I hardly have time to process the room when an obese zombie in an extra-large jean jacket comes tumbling down the stairs.


    My brain screams at me to run, but my legs just freeze. No big deal. I took down that zombie in the woods, I can handle this I tell myself, trying to stay calm. I decide to wait for him to come into striking range, and then go for the kill.


    The chubby zombie is turtle-speed, so it takes him awhile to reach me. Once he enters striking distance, I swing for the head. There is a resounding crack as the stick smashes into the skull of the creature. The massive zombie growls in pain and blood sprays everywhere but the blow is not powerful enough to kill. The zombie glares at me with bloodshot eyes and swipes a large paw at my torso, but I back step and swing again. This time, my stick sinks into the head, instantly killing the monster. The large zombie collapses on the floor, motionless.


    Pleased, I bend down to retrieve my stick from the corpse of the beast. The veins in my arms strain as I attempt to wrench the makeshift weapon from the skull. The stick is jammed pretty tightly. I struggle to free the piece of wood in vain. The stick finally comes out with a nasty crunch. I stumble backward with a breath of relief.


    My sigh of relief morphs into a panicked gasp as I see three muscular zombies pelt down the stairs. White froth spills over their rotten yellow teeth as they scream-moan in unison. Fierce crimson eyes filled with hatred and blind hunger are pointed right at me. Crap.


    I scamper towards the exit. There is no way I can take down three at once with just a bloody stick. I head for the woods. I hear footsteps and moans over my shoulder. I''m not sure how far the zombies want to chase me, but don''t want to take any chances. I''m going to run away and climb the first tree I see. Can zombies climb? I sure hope not.


    These are quick zombies, it doesn''t seem like I''m gaining any distance on them. My foot nicks a stray root, and I ungracefully slip on the moist ground, dropping my stick and sprawling onto my face. Panicking, I crawl on the ground like an awkward teenage chimpanzee before reestablishing a running position. The tree-line is about two hundred feet away, once I get there I will be safe.


    A horde of zombies crawls out of the woods. Oh Darn.


    This is bad. My plan just failed.


    There are at least twenty of them, moaning and baring teeth at me with bloody, wicked grins. I''m in the middle of a zombie sandwich and have no way out.


    I change direction and run towards the least amount of zombies, but the monsters soon surround me. Brain whirling, I try think of possible solutions, but I have nothing. There is no escape.


    I run until I have nowhere to go. Terrified, I fumble in my pockets for rocks. I pelt my first rock in hysteria. The missile flies well above the heads of the crowd of zombies. I throw a second rock that smashes into the thigh of one of the monsters. It falls, but another zombie takes its place. There are too many. This is pointless.


    I sit down, my whole body shaking with hopelessness. Taking down this many zombies with eight rocks was like trying to fly across the grand canyon on a paper airplane. Zombie Apocalypse came and I only lasted one day. Man I really do suck... I stare at the sky, unwilling to look into the eyes of the zombies. There is a sparrow quickly darting through the air. The birds sharp movements are graceful and powerful. I wish I could be a bird. Just for two or three minutes. That is all I need to escape. I just need wings man. And hollow bones. I need that bird game. Sparrow. I want to be a Sparrow. I want to fly away. I close my eyes.


    Roar! The groan of a car engine deafens the ruckus of the zombie hoard. I stand up, and in the corner of my eye I see a cherry red Ford F-150 smash through a wall of zombies. Blood and zombies guts fly everywhere as the vehicle comes towards me. I''m sprayed by a film of zombie juice. I cough, blinded, but my heart throbs with an injection of hope.


    The truck comes closer to me, and a familiar voice yells "IN THE TRUCK! NOW!" Dodging a rush of zombies, I dash into the bed of the Ford. I thump down on the hard plastic bed of the truck. The truck shoots out of the crowd in reverse. I watch the zombie hoard shrink as I sit down and clench the sides of the truck. The driver pulls a 180 degree spin and heads towards the road. We hit the pavement. Relief sweeps through my entire body.


    Wow. I''m alive.


    Did that just happen? Isn''t that really improbable that a truck randomly comes right at that moment and saves my sorry butt? Did I just almost die? Or did I just imagine that?


    I''m not sure. I think it happened.


    I look at my hands. They are covered in zombie blood. I''m not sure what that proves.


    While we drive away from the city, I get a grip on my surroundings. The roads are filled with fallen trees, smashed cars, and potholes. Darn, road crews are lazy. Or, they don''t exist anymore in zombie apocalypse. Yeah, I feel like they don''t exist anymore. Why am I thinking about road crews? I just almost died. But whatever. Guess life goes on. And, I''m still not sure if that was real or not.


    After about twenty minutes of driving, the driver hits the brakes. Not expecting it, I smack my head into the car. Slightly dizzy, I see the door open, and Lenny jumps out of the car.


    "Lenny!" I yell in excitement. Lenny''s face breaks into his friendly crooked grin. If there was one person that I could choose to take down a bunch of zombies, it would be Lenny. I stumble off the bed of the truck and Lenny gives me a bone-crushing hug, smearing us both in zombie blood.


    "Bout got yourself killed, retard" Lenny says sarcastically, but his voice is filled with relief. He is wearing a beat up leather jacket and jeans that are badly stained with blood. A pale yellow construction helmet covers his wild red hair. Strapped to his back is an aluminum baseball bat crisscrossed with a hunting rifle. On his left hip is a holster for a pistol. A machete is sheathed to his right hip. He looks like a mixture between a police man and a vampire hunter.


    "How long was I in the hospital dude? I don''t remember anything since the day before my race..." I ask Lenny, desperate for details. Lenny gives me a blank stare.


    "Bout a month, you went into a darn nasty coma after your two mile. We was all real worried bout ya. Them zombies came two days later. Nobody knows what caused it, but it''s crapped up just bout everythin''. They are infectious, mean, but pretty darn stupid. It''s almost like the movies, cept a couple things. First off, you aint gotta take out the head. If it can kill you, then it will darn well kill a zombie. Them dirtheads will die if you stab em in the heart or rip out their insides. Second, there aint no coming back from the dead. If yer dead, yer dead, aint no comin back. But if your livin'' and you get scratched or bit, then you sure as heck gonna turn. And for some reason, the blood ain''t the infectous part. So it don''t matter that we is both coated in that shit."


    It takes me a few moments to digest the information. A coma? I stare at the veins on the back of my hand. My blood is still pumping. I shiver as I realize that I had been so close to death. I don''t really want to die. Not yet anyways. As for the information, it makes sense, I guess. A zombie is more or less a human with an emotionally void brain programmed for violence.


    "This stuff only happens in movies." I say in a shaky voice.


    "But this ain''t no movie Erick. This is life." Lenny flatly responds


    "Oh yeah, it also happens in video games." I add


    Lenny just shrugs.


    "Where have you been staying man? Are there any other survivors?" I say, scared at any response.


    Lenny looks grim and takes a moment to respond. "I came back from work one night and my family had gone and turned. They was one of the first victims." he mutters in a chocked voice. For a brief moment, there is great sadness in his light green eyes. The sadness is quickly replaced with a stormy anger. "Then people starting going all crazy like and it all went to shit. Lots of people got up an'' left for the country. Others shelled up in their houses. I''ve just been living in my truck, but I''m just bout out of food and gas, and I figured the hospital might be a source for supplies. It is a miracle that I found ya." Lenny says as he patted me on the head. "You''ve always been pretty scrawny. If you want to survive, you are going to need to put some meat on that skinny frame. Don''t worry about it, I can train you." Then Lenny says with a happy chuckle "I guess you''ve got cardio, that is always good for running away from them zombies."


    There is a scream-moaning sound behind me. I flip around, emotionally drained but still terrified. Lenny snatches a baseball from his pocket, and deftly pitches the ball at the creature''s head with amazing speed and accuracy. The baseball slams into zombie-skull, smashing bone and effectively killing it. My jaw drops in surprise. "You can kill these things with a freaking baseball? Why didn''t you just shoot it" I say, glancing at the gun on Lenny''s hip.


    "Well, first off, your lookin'' at an old man zombie. Youngster zombies usually take more than a baseball to kill. Guns will make a loud boom that attracts ''em, so I only use this bad boy in dire situations." He said as he whips out his pistol.


    "How did you know that was on old man zombie," I ask incredulously.


    "Just look at what he''s wearin''. A sweater vest and converse tennis shoes? Come on Eric, only an old guy would wear those." I check the corpse of the zombie. The zombie''s sweater vest is mostly intact, and he is rocking white converse shoes. Lenny is a bit more clever than I ever gave him credit for. Lenny walks over and retrieves his baseball, washing it off with a canteen of water and shoving it back into his pocket.


    "Where too now?" I ask Lenny, hoping that he did not have some crazy, Lenny-death-plan.


    "There is a Texaco bout twenty five miles from here. Its far enough away from the city so we should be safe, and them stations are always stocked with food. I''m talking bout all the jerky and candy bars you can imagine." Lenny says as he licks his lips. "I want to make a base so we can retake the city. Kill all of these freakin'' zombies and take Charleston back. That''s my city. I want it back. Eric, there are people holed up in their houses, slowing starving to death. We could save them and return Charleston to what it once was." Lenny says with a fierce look in his eyes.


    Sounds like a Lenny-death-plan to me. "Can''t we like, call the army or something?" I ask, hoping for an easier solution, but Lenny shakes his head and sighs.


    "The army is way too distracted by larger cities. This zombie crap is everywhere. New York, D.C., Chicago, all across America. Heck, them zombies probably made it all the way to China. Imagine a whole mob of short yella'' china zombies. Gives me the shivers. Anyways, the army just got too many problems to be concerned with Charleston, WV. So we got to deal with this shit ourselves."


    I look at Lenny. To be honest, I don''t want to be hero. Heck, I straight up don''t want to help anybody. If I had the choice, I would secure the gas station, and hang out there until we were completely out of food. But there Lenny is, with some wild idea to retake Charleston from a massive zombie infestation. I know by the look in his eyes that there is no changing his mind. It always was hard to say no to Lenny. "Alright man, let''s go to Texaco. I kind of feel like a Mr. Goodbar anyways." I''m joking, but I realize that I had not eaten anything in a long time. "Actually, do you have any food in that truck?" I ask.


    "Yeah I got enough for a couple more days," Lenny says as he pulls a bag of Jack Links beef jerky out of his truck. He throws me the bag and I stuff my face. Amazing. I had never been a huge fan of any type of jerky, but this dried beef is one of the most satisfying things ever. That said, a strange aftertaste fills my mouth after I finished chewing my first piece. "Yeah I know it''s Peppered, I ate all the better flavors," Lenny adds with a sly grin.


    "I don''t care man, at this point I would eat school beef nuggets," I mumble through a mouthful of beef. I quickly tear my way through the bag of jerky, jaw tired from chewing the tough meat. Lenny watches me eat, probably content to finally have a human companion. It must have been tough to survive a month on your own with just those green freaks as friends. There was no way I could have done it. Like I reflected earlier, I lasted like a day. Save the miracle of course.


    "Alright Eric, hop in," Lenny said as he jumps in the driver''s seat. I climb in the passenger''s side, for the first time feeling a little more confident about this whole zombie thing. There have to be some benefits to the catastrophe. I mean, I would never have to step through the doors of TJ again. Just thinking that made me excited. No more cafeteria. Just me and Lenny in a truck, kicking some zombie tail and eating beef jerky. Sounds pretty darn manly. Sure my expected lifespan just dropped about thirty years and I may never see a girl again that isn''t bright green and trying to kill me (I previously had that effect on girls anyways), but those are only minor problems as far as I''m concerned.

 CH4: The Station Raid

    We start to drive towards Texaco. "How did you know that this station exists, man? I''ve never been close to here." I ask Lenny, double checking his directions.


    "Not all of us stay inside all day and play video games," Lenny replies.


    "Hey, I''m an aspiring track star! Or at least I used to be...." I say defensively. All right, he sort of got me.


    As we drive I realize that zombies can destroy certain aspects of life, but others were out of the reach of their mangled arms. For example, from what I''ve the city of Charleston seems pretty wrecked, but the woods look about the same, save one or two wandering zombies.


    I''m glad Lenny is driving. With constant downed power lines, giant trees covering the road, and a bunch of smashed cars, these roads are terrifying. I might crash the car, but Lenny seems to be an experienced driver.


    After around an hour of driving I see the Texaco station creep up in the distance. It''s an old timey type of gas station, I guess it has some old-school charm, but it also looks in dire need of basic repairs. The letters are all out except the T, which would occasionally flash dim red. The paint is completely faded, and the windows are yellow and crusty. One door is missing, and the other is straight up busted. Lenny stops the car about a football field length from the station.


    "Alright Eric, by the size of this station I''d reckon there are anywhere from two to fifteen of ¡®em." Lenny estimates as he gets out of the car and starts digging through the bed of the truck. He uncovers a razor sharp bowie knife, and exchanges his machete from his belt with the knife. "You''ll need a weapon Eric. This machete ought to serve ya well. Just don''t get too close to them zombies. And for gosh sakes Eric, don''t get surrounded again. Use yer freakin'' brain." Lenny says as he hands me a two and a half foot long machete. I give the scrap of metal a few swings and grin. This is my first time using a machete for anything, but it definitely is a drastic improvement to the stick.


    "There is one thing I gotta do before I go kill me some zombie," Lenny says as he whips out a can of Red Bull from the back of his car. I laugh. New zombies, same old Lenny. "Thought you were a Monster guy?" I ask Lenny.


    "I am, but I''m all out of the good stuff. These are desperate times." Lenny jokes as he cracks his bull. "I''m sure they got a bunch of Monsters in the Texaco," Lenny adds with a hungry look in his eyes.


    After Lenny downs his can, he burps. There is a discernible change in Lenny; his posture straightens, and I see a certain blaze erupt in his eyes, as if the forest in his eyes has caught flame. He tosses the crumpled aluminum to the ground and draws his baseball bat. "Let''s go," utters Lenny in a no-nonsense tone. This crap just got real.


    We approach the Texaco. I''m shaking in fear. I hope Lenny doesn''t notice.


    We encounter our first two zombies loitering near the front door of the station. They look pretty creepy."You get the one on the right, I''ll go left!" Lenny yells as he barrels toward his zombie, baseball bat ready for action.


    I creep towards the other zombie. It''s a rather shrimpy, weak-looking creature, but it growls at me in a rather menacing way. I swing my machete in an arcing motion, attempting to chop off the head. My weapon sticks about three inches into the neck of the monster. The zombie scream-moans and starts flailing. Terrified, my hand slides off my weapon and I get the heck out of there.


    "Crap!" I yell as I sprint away. I look back to see the zombie trip and fall. It then starts crawling. Out of the corner of my eye I see Lenny dashing towards my zombie with his bowie knife. He ruthlessly stabs the zombie in the head.


    "That was pretty sad." grunts Lenny.


    "Man, I''m terrible at this!" I moan.


    "Just finish yer kills! Don''t half-cut the neck, it''s no good. Ya gotta go all the way if ya wanna kill." Lenny growls.


    I bend down and rip my machete from the neck of the zombie. Blood pours off the blade. I shudder, unnerved at the sight of blood. Freaking blood man. Blood everywhere. On my hands, on my stupid clothes. Why do we bleed? I mean I know why, blood is an oxygen transporter and all that stuff. But still... Why is it so nasty?


    Lenny sheathes his bowie knife and pulls out his bat. I check the corpse of the other zombie. It looks like Lenny hit a home run right in the creatures forehead. Darn. He ain''t messin'' ''round.


    I glance at Lenny and timidly suggest, "Guess we got to go in now, right?"


    Lenny nods. He takes a deep breath. And then he rips open the door. It literally falls of the hinges. Lenny yells, "We eatin'' Zombie tonight!" and charges into the gas station. The last thing I actually want to do is follow Lenny, but I would probably win the award for "worst friend ever" if I just sit out here and watch, so I clench my machete and force myself through the door.


    The inside of the gas station is a bit newer than the outside, but I really don''t have time to notice anything due to the hoard of zombies. I quickly count them. There are eight in total, most of them wandering aimlessly. I see Lenny rush towards the closest zombie. Crack! The zombie''s head splatters against a wall. I guess that makes seven zombies.


    I creep through the aisles, hoping to catch a zombie by surprise. To my left and right there are shelves loaded with candy bars and boxes of cake donuts. I hear a scream-moan at the end of the isle. Their constant moaning and groaning makes zombies easy to track. If I can get the jump on a zombie, than I could get at least one kill. I sneak closer and closer to the source of sound. This isn''t so scary.


    In a flash, the blood-red eyes of a zombie are inches from my forehead, steaming with hunger. "AHHH!" I scream and sprint away from the monster. Now at a distance I note that it''s a woman zombie. "AHHH!" I scream again and try to get even further away. At the other end of the aisle, I see a male zombie in a camo hat creeping towards me. I curse, realizing that I''m trapped. Frantically, I scramble on top of the shelf, sending boxes of cake donuts everywhere. The donuts are horribly damaged, but I have higher ground. Both zombies are closing in on me, flailing their rugged green arms in my general direction. I blindly swing at the closer camo-hat zombie, slicing his right hand off at the wrist. Blood sprays everywhere -- though his severed wrist didn''t seem to bother him. I twirl my machete and chop downward at the hat. The sword slices straight through cap and brains. I quickly wrench my machete out of the creature''s head as the corpse of the creature strikes the ground with a sick thump!


    That was an awesome zombie kill! I fist pump and yell, "Hey Lenny did you see that? Pretty sweet right?" I turn around to see how Lenny is doing. I''m met by the claw of the woman zombie. I flinch and automatically leap backward.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    I land awkwardly and slip off the shelves. I''m flying for a moment, then my knee crashes against the concrete floor. Pain shoots up my leg. Eyes watering, I roll on my back and glance upward, hoping the crazy woman zombie had fallen into a hidden pit, or got bitten by a rattlesnake, or gotten ran over by a semi-truck, or something random but awesome like that. No such luck, she is inches away from me and ready to pounce. I frantically somersault backwards and scramble to my feet. With one desperate lunge, my machete stinks into the chest of the monster. The zombie-woman gargles and falls over -- finished.


    Gasping for air, I glance around the store, hoping that Lenny cleanly murdered the other five zombies. I find Lenny. He is relaxing on a La-Z-Boy like he is watching a mildly amusing TV show. In his right hand he hold a pistol. In his left there lies a half-eaten Slim Jim. Piled around him are the bodies of five motionless zombies. "Bout time you got done, I was startin'' to worry bout ya," he says with his crooked grin.


    Anger boils in my stomach. "What are you doing Lenny! I could have died and you''re just sitting on your butt watching?" I yell.


    "Relax Eric. If you got into any real trouble, I would have blown that there zombies face off in a flash," Lenny says as raises his gun. "I was just givin'' you some real zombie trainin''. You can''t practice this crap. It''s better you learn with me watchin'' yer ass then if you screw up when I''m not ''round" Lenny reasons.


    His argument makes sense, so I begrudgingly mutter "Alright, I guess you''re probably right.¡±


    We start to transform the station into a secure area. Lenny hands me a pair of dirty work gloves. "Better get rid of these nasty corpses," he comments. I grab the leg of a zombie and start to pull it out of the building, strongly resisting the urge to vomit. Blood stains the floor as I haul the corpse out the door. Lenny carries three corpses at once. "Where do we put these man?" I ask, hoping that I don''t have to drag the body much further.


    Lenny takes a brief moment to think, then says. "Well, ''cuz zombie''s eat other zombies, let''s put ''em in my truck. I''ll drive out and throw ''em in the woods." Lenny decides. Once we make it to the truck, I hesitantly grab the zombie by the torso, and try to pull the corpse up to chest level. My knees buckle, and I tumble over backwards. The corpse of the zombie crushes my stomach on the way down. I gasp as I attempt to shove the meat bag off my midsection. After struggling a few moments in vain, the zombie magically becomes weightless. Lenny chuckles and easily tosses the body onto his left shoulder. I groan and get up.


    "Like I said Eric, you need some real good tranin'' if you want to survive. I''ll put you on Lenny''s special program once we secure the station," Lenny says with a good-natured wink.


    I load a lighter zombie onto the truck while Lenny takes care of the rest. After we stuff eight bodies into the truck-bed, I take a step back, satisfied with my work. "I''ll be back in twenty," Lenny says as he hops in the truck. With that Lenny takes off, leaving me alone to man the station. I think I can handle it. As long as no zombies come.


    I enter the Texaco and decide to survey the station. There is plenty of grub. The station primarily offers candy bars, beef jerky, baked snacks, and chips, not the most nutritious food ever, but what the heck, food is food. Built into the walls of the station is a large fridge with glass doors. I note with a smile that the cooler was has an extensive energy drink section. There are even assorted flavors of Monsters, I''m sure Lenny will be stoked. Like everywhere else, the station doesn''t appear to have power. I open the drink cooler to check anyways, but no luck, I am met by a gust of stale air. Most of the drinks are sodas anyway, which are better cold; but still drinkable otherwise.


    The station has other cool stuff too, a couple racks of clothes, the La-Z-Boy, more lottery tickets than me and Lenny would ever be able to play. I realize that I''m still wearing my grimy clothes from the hospital. They are now completely soaked with blood. Quickly as possible, I take off the ruined medical gown and khakis. I never liked the gown anyways, a man should never wear anything with the word gown in it.


    I check out the T-Shirt rack, hoping to find something cool. Most the shirts are camo. I''m in a gas station in the middle of West Virginia, no surprises there. There are a few Budweiser T-shirts that I think are pretty cool, but my mom would probably freak out if she saw me in them. She hates American beers, some Russian supremacy thing. A colorful bald-eagle T-shirt caught my eye. On the front of the shirt was the symbol for America, freedom, and all things patriotic. Its beak is wide open in a fearsome war cry. The majestic bird is streaked in a brilliant swirl of red, white, and blue. Awesome! I think as I grab the T-shirt and jam it on. It fits perfectly. Although the shirt is definitely redneck, I love it. I''m not a clothes guy, so it was unusual that I was so excited over a shirt, but there was something special about this wild eagle design. I find a pair of jeans to replace my khakis.


    After I finish with clothes, I desperately scavenge for any source of electronic entertainment. I know it''s zombie apocalypses, but I''m bored and I want to play video games. There may not be any electricity anymore, but there has to be a Game Boy Advanced around here somewhere I think as I scrounge through the aisles of the station. The Game Boy Advanced (GBA) ran on AA batteries, and I had already found several packs in the station. I have been right next to death a few times in the last couple days and the only thing I want to do is play Game Boy. Game Boy is fun though, what else can I say?


    I hear the doors open, and I turn over in a flash. It''s just Lenny carrying a couple hammers. "Alright, let''s go an'' secure the station, then we can eat n'' sleep." mumbles Lenny as he stifles a yawn. At the word sleep, exhaustion leaches through my entire body. I want to collapse on the floor, but Lenny is right, we have to secure the area. Why did I think of video games before basic safety? I dunno, guess I''m dumb...


    "I got me some tools from my truck, but we gotta bust up one of them shelves over there to get us some wood." Lenny says as he hands me a hammer and nails.


    After we remove all the food from on the shelf, Lenny starts carefully prying apart the wood with the back of his hammer. In a few minutes, the shelf morphs into a pile of plywood. "I''ll take the front door. Eric, you go an'' block the winders." Lenny commands.


    The station has two "winders." I grab a couple pieces of wood and head for the window closer to me. It''s twilight, so there is some light streaming through the window. The windows are the only light source, so putting boards up will kill the light and make it pretty depressing, but if zombies slaughtered us during the night, that would be even more depressing, so I hammer away. I finish the first window, attaching the boards so they are parallel with each other. I head over to the next window and construct my next barricade in the same fashion.


    After I finish, I check to see how Lenny is doing. The door is impressive work, Lenny has somehow figured out how to create an iron latch that fits into a wooden slot. This apparatus will allow us to easily enter and exit the station, but also we can lower the latch to effectively lock the door. Once he finishes, we simultaneously sigh in relief. For the first time since I woke up, I feel safe.


    "Alright man, let''s eat!" I say with a satisfied smile. I scavenge a Mr. Good Bar and a bag of Doritos. Lenny rescues the donuts that I had knocked over earlier and also grabs a bag of jerky. We then survey the drink selection. I''m craving a Sprite, and I found one right in the center of the fridge. Lenny picks out a bottle of coke.


    I find a metal chair behind the register, while Lenny kicks back in his La-Z-Boy, which he had unofficially claimed. He saved my life, so I guess he deserves some perks. "Cheers" we cry in unison as we strike soda bottles. With that I dig into my Mr. Good Bar, chomping on the peanuty and chocolatey bliss. I wash down the candy bar with a warm mouthful of sprite and let out a satisfied burp. Delicious. Morale is pretty high. That''s for sure. Lenny and I drift into a light-hearted conversation. "Hey Lenny, what was your favorite class back at TJ?" I asked.


    "Spanish class my sophomore year," He replies instantly.


    "Spanish? Dude, our Spanish classes sucked. Our teachers spoke Espan''yall. A real Mexican would die laughing if they heard our teachers accents. They say muy bien like muy bean. It was pretty bad man," I responded in confusion.


    "Yeah, but you¡¯re forgetin'' somthin'' real important Eric. Mrs. Lantz was hot," Lenny adds with a grin. I fail to stifle a laugh. I remember Mrs. Lantz. She was pretty hot. Half the class was infatuated with her. Hope she''s not a zombie now. That would be a bummer.


    Once we finish eating, Lenny finds some blankets that we could sleep on, and I grab a pile of Budweiser shirts to use as pillows. After stripping down to my underwear, I wrap myself in my blanket. Even though I''m lying on the hard floor and my blanket is rather scratchy, I somehow feel cozy. "Goodnight Lenny," I mumble as my mind fades into darkness.

 Chapter 5: Z90X

    I wake up to the sound of birds chirping. Where the heck am I? Why am I sleeping on the floor? What happened? I wonder. Then the events hit me like thunder. Zombies. Lenny. Gas station. Chirp-chirp. The birds keep chirping. I wonder if they realize what is happening. Or if they just continue being birds. Do they stress about anything? I kind of doubt it. I think they just chirp and fly and eat worms and build nests.


    Light is faintly streaming in through the blocked windows. Rolling over, I sit up with a groan. My entire body is sore and stiff. I''m not surprised, between fighting zombies and sleeping on the floor; my body has already been through the ringer. I pull on my eagle T-shirt and jeans, realizing that Lenny is already up.


    Lenny was sitting on his chair, reading a book called The Old Man and the Sea. He looks over his book and says "Bout time ya got up, you need to start yer trainin''." Through running, I had learned to enjoy physical exercise, but I had never really trained unless my coach made me.


    "Fine. I''ll do your training program or whatever." I grunt.


    "All righty then Eric, keep yer pants on and get ready fer Lenny''s extra special trainin'' time!" Lenny cries, clearly proud of his name.


    "Wait, wait, what? Lenny''s special extra - I mean, extra special trainin'' what? That¡¯s what you¡¯re calling this?" I say incredulously. I count in my head rapidly. "Dude, that''s like nine syllables, way too long. How about Z90X? It''s only four syllables, much more concise, and it sounds a lot cooler."


    Lenny whines, " But I like Lenny''s extra special -"


    "I know you like it dude. But it''s just not a good name. Sorry. Z90X or no deal." I interrupt. Lenny''s seems to deflate a bit. I could tell I had won.


    "All right Eric, whatever, we can call it Z90X," Lenny says sarcastically. "But no complainin'' bout nothin'' I tell ya to do. You gotta be tough up here if ya want to be a zombie warrior." Lenny says as he taps his head.


    With that, we get down and start doing pushups. Real original Lenny, I could''ve thought of this I think as I start reps. "Hold it right there partner!" Lenny yells.


    "What, aren''t these pushups?" I snap.


    "Darn no they ain''t, don''t give me that bull-crap. You is hardly bending those elbows. Make sure your chest thumps the ground like this here," Lenny says as he demonstrates proper form.


    "Whatever," I groan as I restart push ups, this time doing a more complete motion.


    Lenny is right, I feel these more I think as my arms and chest started to ache. As I work through to rep eighteen, my muscles start to really burn. Come on you wimp! I try to yell at myself, but my arms give out and I hit the floor. Lenny keeps going, knocking out fifty reps without any discernible increase in breathing rate.


    "Alright, I want you to do four more sets, try to get as many reps as yer first effort. You can have a two-minute break, which I''m timin''!" Lenny commands as he checked his watch.


    "What! Five sets, that''s stupid man. Most studies indicate that the maximum desired sets for weight training is-"


    "There you go, trying to wimp out with your science crap. You want to survive? Then do the workout!" Lenny yells.


    "Ahh, whatever man, " I moan.


    After a two minute rest, I try to hit eighteen reps, but I die at rep fourteen. Lenny completes fifty again no problem. My next set is even worse, I only manage twelve. By the fifth set, my arms are shaking after just the second pushup. I struggle through five pushups, then collapse face down on the floor, sucking in air. Only one exercise and my arms already feel dead. This is going to fun day. "Are we done yet Lenny?" I plead. I hear a good-natured laugh and look up. Lenny is still cranking out reps like a pushup machine. "Heck no Eric, we''s just startin'' " Lenny says, hardly out of breath. Darn...


    After Lenny finishes his last set, he sits up and burps. "Righty then Eric, now we do pull-ups"You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Hah, this time I had won. There is no pull-up bar in the station. Without a pull-up bar, how are we going to do pull-ups? I rationally think. "Hey Lenny, we don''t have a pull-up bar! Guess we have to skip this exercise. " I say hopefully.


    Lenny chuckles and shakes his head. "Heck, I aint never used a freakin'' pull up bar in my life. Just go on outside and do ''em on that there tree ya retard." Lenny says, pointing outside. Groaning, I limp out the door. I find the tree, a massive oak with a low hanging branch about a foot out of my reach. I leap for the branch, grabbing it with my palms pointed away from my face. I started my first set, and had just completed my second pull-up when I heard Lenny yell, "Eric! I don''t want to see that bird-crap. Go deeper!" I sigh and started completely extending my elbows. 3...4...5... I struggle to complete my 6th rep. With a grunt, I clear my chin over the bar, and drop down to the ground, burning to catch my breath. I look around, trying to see where Lenny had gone. He is swinging a nearby pine tree, ripping out reps like a monkey juiced up on Monster. I briefly imagine a monkey drinking Monster. I wonder what would happen to it. I think monkeys are around the same weight as humans, right? So it probably would have similar effects. What about a bunny? They are pretty small right? If a bunny had a whole Monster, man the little thing would probably freak -- "Alright!" Lenny yells from across the parking lot. I jolt back to reality. "Two-minute rest, four more sets!" I sigh and mentally prep myself for more pain. A bunny on Monster.


    I struggle through the next four sets of pull-ups, completing sequentially less reps each time. After my last rep, I drop to the ground hard, smacking my feet against the pavement. Taking a moment to recover, I sit down on the ground, panting like a worn-out West Virginian mutt. Lenny finds me and drags me off the ground, "Come on Eric, we got work ta do!"


    Lenny half-carries me back to the station and throws a Payday bar at me; "fer protein" he yells. The Payday smacks me in the chest and I yelp. "Dude, why the heck are you throwin'' crap at me? Why didn''t you just hand it to me?!"


    "Gotta keep up yer reflexes!" Lenny yells as he pelts me with another Payday. I try to catch the bar but I''m too slow. The Pay-day smacks me in the shoulder. I groan.


    Then we start core work. I thought I knew what I was in for, but Lenny has a nasty routine that I''m not prepared for. A four-minute long plank marks the beginning of the routine. I hold on for the first minute and a half, then my muscles give out and I hit the floor, a sensation that I''m used to at this point. Lenny dives into crunches and other moves that I have never seen before, but they make my midsection burn. I try to hang with Lenny, but I''m forced to take countless breaks. After we finish the routine (well, more like after Lenny finishes the routine) my body feels as dead as... as dead as... heck, I dunno, a zombie?


    It takes me a good twenty seconds to get to my feet, and before I can even think about complaining, Lenny cries "Alright kid, let''s wrastle!" as he hops to his feet, as light as a sparrow.


    "What?! You gotta be joking man! You''re like nine times my size! How does this even relate to killing zombies? I don''t get it!" I yell.


    "I''ll go easy on ya. Plus, sometimes you lose yer weapon. Ya gotta know how to shove them zombies around and not get bit"


    I groan again and we start wrestling. In a frantic dive, I try to surprise Lenny and take out his legs. I try to move him with all my might, but he didn''t even budge. Lenny then grips me with massive hands and drags me to the ground, pinning me instantly. He may have been going easy on me, but wrestling Lenny is like trying to overpower a 600 pound grizzly bear. Ok, maybe like a 300 pound grizzly bear, but you get the point. I can''t win. "Guess I gotta go real easy." Lenny says with a crooked grin. After about twenty minutes of Lenny tossing me around like a rag doll, Lenny calls it quits. Day one of Z90X is over.


    Entire body in pain, I moan, "Lenny, I don''t know how long I''m going to last at this rate." This Z90X stuff is crazy.


    "You''ll do just fine. " Lenny says as goes to his truck. What is he doing now? Can he take a ten-minute breather every now and then? I wonder as I lay on my back, wanting to move as little as possible.


    Lenny comes back into the room with a roll of paper. He sat down next to me and unraveled a diagram of some type. I gasp as I realized what it was. It was a hand sketched map of Charleston. There are numbers next to the names of certain streets. A few of the numbers had been crossed out, but most of them are still unmarked. "Here it is Eric, a map of the city" Lenny''s said with a static spark in his eyes.


    "I counted the streets we outta take back first. I already cleared a few of the outer streets myself when you was in yer coma, but there are still plenty of streets we need to get takin'' back. Course, your gonna take bout a month of trainin'' before yer ready to go into the city."


    I stare at the neatly drawn map. Lenny had marked up to sixty streets, but only the first seven are crossed out. I point to number twenty four. That''s my street. "Lenny have you found any survivors? Do you think we can skip some and do twenty four?" Lenny takes a moment to count, then replies. "I reckon I''ve rescued twelve people in total. Tried to get ''em to stay with me an'' fight, but they all took off fer other places. Sure hope they don''t go and get themselves ripped up by them zombies. As fer 24? I know that''s where yer parents live and all Eric, but we''ll be goners if we tried to go straight there. We need to clear out these streets first." Lenny says while he points to a whole block of roads. He takes a moment to plan a route. "Well, we can skip a few streets Eric, but we still gotta clear out 8,9,10,12,13,15,16,18,20, and 21." Lenny concludes.


    That¡¯s ten roads. It¡¯s going to be tough, but if we could save my parents, it would be worth it. "Ok Lenny, sounds like a plan."


    Our mission ahead? Clear out ten zombie infested streets.

 CH6: Load-Out

    Once we finish sketching the route, Lenny leads me to his truck. By his poorly concealed smile, I could tell he''s excited about something. Lenny hauls four brief cases out of the bed of his truck and throws them on the ground. Thump. He flips open the cases like a boss. Weapons. Lots of weapons.


    "Gosh darn Lenny..." I grunt. The cases are loaded with a variety of guns, swords of all sizes, giant monkey wrenches, crowbars, lead pipes, baseballs, a slingshot and rocks, golf clubs, more knives than you could count, and even a bow and arrow. "Yup. I''m a collector," Lenny says with a crooked grin.


    Lenny briefly drills me on each weapon and how to use it. Lenny hands me a lead pipe. "It ain''t rocket science, Eric. Heck, it ain''t even science. Ya just wanna crack them zombies in the head bout as hard as you can. If ya can''t get em in the head, go fer the chest. You wanna get strong so you can swing the biggest pipe or sword ya can. If it is a heavier weapon, it kills em better." Lenny says as he grabs an unbelievably large lead pipe from the bed of his truck. The pipe had been spray painted olive green with speckles of cherry-red. There was no way I could ever swing, let alone pick up, a weapon of that size. "I call this bad boy Zombie Smasher 5000." Lenny says as he gives the giant pipe a swing. "It knocks the shit out of them zombies".


    "What''s up with you and your names man? Way too long." I reply.


    "Well, I ain''t changing it. Already got it painted on the side." Lenny says with a proud grin. He shows me the side of the pipe. Blocky black letters spell "Zombie Smasher 5000". That probably took forever to paint, but it''s cool. "Alright dude, I''m not going to lie, that''s pretty sweet," I concede.


    We then move to projectile weaponry. Lenny grabs a sawed-off shotgun and says, "Like I said before, only use guns when ya have to. Wait, do ya even know how to shoot?" Lenny asks.


    "Well, I''ve played some Call of Duty, you know the first person shooter game on the Xbox? It''s kind of the same general idea..." I mumble.


    "Ahh come on Eric, don''t even try that. Well, I guess I''m gonna have ta teach ya sometime." Lenny says as he exchanges the shotgun for his slingshot. "Now, this slingshot is great, cuz it kills zombies real good and ammo is just about everywhere." Lenny says as he gestures to the ground. "Just need rocks." Lenny then picks up a baseball. "You saw what I do with these. Just throw em as hard as you can." Lenny switches to the bow. "And this is my bow. Arrows are scarce, so I don''t use her much, but when I do..." Lenny brought his finger across his throat. "I kill lots of them zombies." Lenny drops the bow. "Well, that''s bout all ya need to know." Lenny says as he started walking back to the station.


    "Wait, wait, what? What about strategy? Isn''t there some technique and stuff?" I ask.


    Lenny just chuckles and shakes his head. "Well, stay as far away from them zombies as possible. If ya can, take em out with ranged weapons. But if yer outta ammo, ya gotta do what ya gotta do. Remember, if a zombie hears ya, smells ya, or sees ya it''s gonna come after ya. They never back up. They ain''t gonna get scared, or run away. They just ain''t human." Lenny says as he strolls back to the station. "Oh yea, I almost forgot, I found this on one of me raids, thought you''d enjoy it." Lenny said as he uncovers a Game Boy Advanced(GBA) from his pocket.


    My heart skips a beat. "Heck yes man! This is awesome!" I exclaim in joy. I scamper up to Lenny, grab the GBA, and gave him a big hug. I check the game cartridge and it''s Pok¨¦mon Sapphire, a classic. Sweet. I can play this game for days nonstop and completely forget about the Zombie Plague.


    I rush back into the station, grab a bag of peanuts, and fire up Pok¨¦mon. A saved file already exists that was half way through the game, but I deleted it. I want to start fresh. Now, who should I choose as my starter... There is Torchic(fire based chicken looking Pokemon), Mudkip (water based salamander-Pok¨¦mon), and Treeko(leaf based lizardish Pok¨¦mon). I decided to choose Torchic. I like birds, and fire Pok¨¦mon are usually the coolest. With that, I dive into Pok¨¦mon, and time flew by.


    Next thing I knew it was time for dinner. I form a pile of granola bars and slim jims. Lenny gorges on of multiple packets of Reece''s Peanut Butter Cups before engulfing several protein bars. I''m sure we would get tired of gas station food eventually, but for the moment; we were like two kids in a candy store. Wait, I guess we pretty much are two kids in a candy store.


    I had noticed that Lenny spent most of his time reading "The Old Man and the Sea", so I ask him about it. "Hey Lenny, what is up with you and that book. I didn''t even know you could read?" I joke.


    Lenny laughs and replies. "Heck, I don''t know why, but I like the way Hemmingway writes. You know that Scarlet Letter crap that Mr. Johnson made us read?"


    Oh gosh, I remembered struggling through that book like a knight in cast iron armor trying to wade through a pit of zombies. Every minute detail was described in full, making it a painful read. That may have been the thing back in 1850, when the book was written(Or at least I think it was written then-ish, I''m not really sure), but come on, this is the twenty first century. "Yeah, that book was awful, what about it?" I ask.


    "Well, Hemmingway is the complete opposite. He just says it like it is. The man don''t screw around much. I''m almost finished readin'' it." Lenny says as he showed me the page he was on. He had about 20 pages left. "You should read it after I''m done" Lenny adds.


    "Yeah, I might dude, if I have time between training and Pok¨¦mon" I said with a smirk.


    "Shouldn''t have given you that Game Boy, you freakin'' nerd. Next thing ya know, you gonna be wimpin'' out on Lenny''s special extra trainin'' time. " Lenny says with a crooked grin.


    "First off, it''s Z90X! And heck no, I ain''t gonna quit Z90X. I''m a freakin'' zombie warrior." I say. Wait, did I just sound like Lenny? This is bad, I''m spending too much time with him.


    We chatted for awhile, and then went to bed. Again, my blanket was scratchy, and the floor was hard, but I was exhausted from Lenny''s training. I fell asleep in an instant.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I woke up to the sound of crows. I briefly wondered whether animals are immune to the zombie plague. Certainly, I had never seen any zombie birds or anything like that. Hopefully, I would never have to.


    I sit up. I didn''t think it was possible, but my soreness had dramatically worsened since yesterday. Everything hurts. Muscles I never cared enough to think about burn as I struggle to my feet. Man, my glutes are freakin'' sore too. Why the heck is my butt sore? That doesn''t make any sense.


    I hadn''t brushed my teeth in days, so I found a brush and some tooth paste. It feels weird to brush my teeth after so long, but I don''t want to become some stereotypical toothless West Virginian, so I keep brushing. I down some Starbursts for breakfast, and found Lenny, who had just finished "The Old Man and the Sea". Lenny had tears in his eyes, but became stone-faced when I found him.


    "Ready for Z90X day two?" Lenny said as he got to his feet, wiping away the tears.


    "Yeah, whatever," I reply with some attitude, trying to sound more confident than I really was.


    With that, we go outside and start day two, which turned out to be quite different than day one. First, Lenny grabs a couple jump ropes and we started rolling. We complete 100 reps, taking 20-second breaks after each set. I don''t know how long we go, but I''m almost as strong as Lenny, only having to stop for a break a couple times due to the intense burning in my arms.


    Next, we do handstands. I have no idea how handstands relate to zombie killing, but I have given up asking questions at this point, so I just try to imitate Lenny the best that I can. Lenny could hold a handstand for nearly thirty seconds, which was incredible due to his massive size. Lenny could also walk on his hands for a lengthy distance and perform a tricky one-handed handstand. I tried to maintain a handstand, but my arms would start burning, and I lost my balance quickly. After nearly half an hour of handstands my best was around two and a half seconds. Have to start somewhere I guess.


    We transition to balance. By "balance", I mean that Lenny and I venture into the woods, and Lenny finds a log that we can walk across. Lenny starts with the golden standard, nimbly traversing the log like a giant redneck ninja. I go next. I take a few steps and then slip on a wet patch. I tumble to the forest floor. My forearm is sliced open by thorns on the way down. "Shoot!" I yell, angrily checking at my bleeding forearm.


    "Quiet Eric, they probably heard you." Lenny says in a hushed tone.


    Right on que, I hear a rustling directly behind me. I turn around, scrambling for anything that could be used as a weapon. In a flash, I hear a moan, and before I can even run, a extra-large zombie in a full camo outfit tumbles out of the brush. Desperate, I kick him in the shin. The massive zombie''s legs gives out and he topples on top of me, smothering me. Panicking, I flail with all my might to keep the zombie from crushing my neck. I can''t breathe, suffocating under a metric crap-ton of meat.


    I hear a roar and I''m free. Lenny rips the zombie off the ground, holding him like an oversized hamster. With a grunt, Lenny throws the zombie at a tree, a feat of nearly superhuman strength. The chubby zombie lets out one last scream-moan and hits the tree head on, sending blood and parts everywhere. Lenny wipes his hands off and whispers "All right there partner? Go right ahead and get back up on that there log." I do what exactly he tells me.


    We alternate attempts to cross the log. Lenny makes it without falling nearly every time, and when he does slip he catches himself before he falls. Even when I''m moving as slowly as possible, I can never make it all the way across. Once, just inches from the end of the log, I panic and slip, landing face first in a pile of prickly grass. Finally, after I''m sufficiently frustrated and banged up from multiple falls, Lenny calls it quits. "Alright Eric, ''nuff of log balancin'', we got other stuff to train." I sigh in relief and start following Lenny out of the woods, struggling to keep up.


    Once we get the station, Lenny yells "Wind Sprints!" and takes off towards the other side of the parking lot. Surprised, I take off after him. I¡¯m gaining on him, but the lot was only about 100 meters, not long enough for me to catch him. By the time Lenny makes it to the end of the lot, I¡¯m breathing down his neck.


    "How many reps are we doing and how much rest we got?" I ask.


    Lenny is breathing heavily. "15 reps." He takes another breath of air. "20 seconds rest."


    With that we take off again. This time, he has no head start, so I run alongside him. I can tell by his breathing rate that he is already pretty tired; I know that if I run the same speed for the next 13 reps there is no way he would be with me in the end.


    For the next two reps I run with Lenny. With every rep Lenny''s breathing grows louder and his form worsens, but he doesn¡¯t seem to slow. Half-way through the fourth rep, I trigger a burst of speed and leave Lenny straggling behind. For the remaining intervals, Lenny starts with me, but he his speed always flags before the end of the sprint.


    I finish the last sprint in good form, air streaming through my hair as I plant my foot at the end of the pavement. Turning around, I see Lenny struggling to finish. He is gasping air as he swings his massive limbs in an ungainly manner, trying to muster all his willpower for final effort. Lenny reaches the end of the lot and sits down, his massive chest heaving, and then he starts laughing. "Well, it''s bout time that you push me in sometin''. I was fraid that I would be doin'' all the pushin''." Lenny says through deep breaths. I smile and think Yeah, I''m glad I''m good for something.


    Z90X has one last trick and Lenny brings me to the back wall of our gas station. It¡¯s constructed of brick. I fail to resist the urge to make a sarcastic comment."Ok, what are we doing now Lenny? That''s just a wall. What are we going to do with a wall?" Lenny slaps his hands together and retorts "Alright Eric. One thing ya gotta know bout them zombies is that they don''t climb. So if ya know how ta climb stuff, you can get away." Lenny says as he kicks his shoes off. He then approaches the wall and grips the handholds between the brick. Lenny starts climbing, moving like a giant human lizard. I watch in awe, checking the size of the gaps in the brick. They are tiny, only offering enough room to fit the tips of my fingers. Lenny drops off the wall, hitting the concrete with a thud! "How do you do that?" I ask incredulously.


    "I got them strong hands from liftin'' stuff," Lenny replies. "Even so, I couldn''t get it right away. I got this big body to lift. Gotta practice."


    So Lenny has me take my shoes off and instructs me on how to grip the bricks. I fail to even pull myself off the ground, let alone climb the wall. He tells me to jump, and try to hang in place. I jump and can feel my arms straining while I¡¯m in the air, but I can only slow my descent for a fraction of a second. Over and over again I jump, using my feet and hands in a hopeless attempt to scale the wall. Meanwhile, Lenny had climbed the wall at least ten times, taking brief rests after each completion. The tips of my fingers are raw and painful from rubbing against the mortar, when Lenny says, "alright now, ''nuff climbin''.¡± I lean against the brick wall, worn out from jumping rope, hand stands, slipping off a log, getting smothered from a fat zombie, falling off the log again, wind sprints, and finally, completely failing at climbing a brick wall. Day two of Z90X is over.


    "Alright, that''s my entire program. I''ll switch things up if I feel like it, but fer now we keep alternatin'' ''tween the two days." Lenny says with gusto. Alright, so now I more or less know the entire routine. In a way it¡¯s helpful because I know what to expect, but on the other hand, I know just how tough the exercises are. I wonder again if I will be able to last, or if my body will just break down under this intense routine.

 CH7: The First Raid

    We return to the station, Lenny marching in the lead and me limping behind. Lenny throws a giant beef stick at me and hollers, "Eat up Eric. Yer gonna need yer protein." I tear open the plastic wrapping on the giant Oberto stick with my teeth and start chewing on the beef. It is satisfying, but the salt dries my mouth. I grab a lukewarm orange soda to wash down the salty beef. When I take a gulp of soda, the orange and beef flavors mixes. It¡¯s perfection. As soon as I find my metal chair, I collapse into it and sigh with relief. My body aches at every joint, but I feel the satisfaction of a completing day two of zombie training.


    Once I finish my snack/lunch, I find my Game Boy and kick started Pok¨¦mon. I''ve collected the first three gym badges, and my cute little Torchic has evolved into a not-so-cute but tougher looking Combusken. I have also caught a Taillow (Bird Pok¨¦mon) and a Seedot (a real lame looking acorn-like Pok¨¦mon). I choose the Taillow because I like birds, and the Seedot because it was so pathetic looking that it had to evolve to something awesome. It''s funny how it works, the developers usually the choose the smallest, wimpiest little creatures to evolve into the most epic Pok¨¦mon.


    While I play Game Boy, Lenny is diving into a new book. This one is called, "The Color of Water.¡± Huh, I would never guess that Lenny is the reading type. I would have pegged him as the kind of guy who threw rocks at trees in his spare time.


    "Lenny, where do you get all those books?" I ask.


    "I had tons of em'' in my house, but I had to leave ¡®em all. But when I see a interestin'' lookin'' one durin'' a raid, I just take it. I got me four other books in the truck that I''m lookin'' to read after I done with this one. Ain''t nothin'' better than a good read." Lenny replies with a slight smile on his face.


    After I get tired of Pok¨¦mon, I decide it would be a good idea to log all the information we have on zombies. I scavenge a pen and a fifty page spiral notebook, and title it Zombie Guide 101. I head sections for behavior, diet, habitat, and history. Under behavior, I write down Will attack on sight - Appear to be attracted to loud sounds such as gun shots - Do not appear to feel pain or fear - Extremely violent


    I hadn''t been around zombies long enough to really know much more. I decided to check what Lenny knew.


    "Hey Lenny, what do you know about zombies. Specifically their behavior, habitat, diet, and history."


    Lenny looks up from his book. " Behavior? You know as well as I do Eric, they are bout as mean as you can get. Diet? Shoot, I dunno. Think they''ll eat anything, but they seem to go fer raw flesh over cooked food. Habitat? I mean, they seem to live just ''bout anywhere. What was the last one again?"


    "History." I repeat


    Lenny chuckles "Well, they came ''bout two months ago, around early April. I wish I could tell ya what caused it, but nobody knows. I was thinkin'' it was scientists. I don¡¯t trust them scientists.¡±


    I record the history -The cause of the Zombie plague is unknown; however, it seems to have started in early April 2012. So far, my book wasn''t exactly a wealth of knowledge, but it feels satisfying to have some information down. On the front of the notebook, I sketch a picture of Lenny taking a zombie¡¯s head off with Zombie Smasher Extreme 5000. It¡¯s a fairly childish drawing, but it gets the job done.


    I munch on granola bars and Skittles for dinner. Lenny is busy emptying our supply of Payday bars. As I eat, I try to visualize how I¡¯m going to survive Z90X. Naturally, my mind wanders towards video-games. I likened Z90X to Skyrim. I could be training my destruction magic or something. Just instead of blasting skeletons, I¡¯m doing pull-ups. Or I could be a Pok¨¦mon, and Lenny was my Poke trainer. I¡¯m just like a character trying to grow some levels.


    With that epiphany, I decide to call it a day. I roll up in my scratchy blanket and set my head on the pile of Budweiser T shirts. Even though I¡¯m exhausted, it takes me a while to sleep. Sometime this happens to me, my hyperactive mind will simply refuse to turn off. Brain wandering aimlessly, I revisit the horrific scene at the hospital, think hopelessly about old high school crushes, despair about my lost family, before finally being caught in the peaceful hands of sleep.


    For the next two months, I take Z90X seriously, and it pays off. By the end of the program, I¡¯m doing five sets of thirty pushups and twelve pull-ups. Of course, as Lenny made sure, all of my reps demonstrated proper form. I can hang with Lenny for most of his stomach exercise, only taking a couple breaks at the really tough parts. Wrestling Lenny is still pretty hopeless. I¡¯m a bit quicker than him, but he is ridiculously strong. Despite my hardest efforts, Lenny pins me multiple times every session. I still try my best to wear him down, and after our bouts we would both fall over breathless.


    As for the other exercises, I improved just as rapidly. With the jump rope I could challenge Lenny, using my cardio and light-weight as an advantage. Lenny hung with me, but I could tell he was struggling at some points. Handstands were still pretty tricky, but my coordination improved to the point where I could hold one nearly half as long as Lenny could. Handstands were an unorthodox way to exercise, but they trained strength and balance at the same time. I have to say that Lenny was on the something.


    The balancing log continues to be difficult, but I was slowly becoming more sure on my feet. If I proceed very carefully, then I can generally cross the log without falling. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I''m sure I made slight improvements in wind-sprints, but it was Lenny who made the real gains. By the end of the month he could stick with me for almost half of workout. With his broad chest and massive arms, Lenny was not built like a distance runner. I have to say, Lenny had developed impressive cardio.


    The brick wall became my nemesis. For the first two weeks, I tried over and over again to grip those impossibly small hand-holds, but to no avail. After countless attempts, the ends of my fingers became raw and even blistered. Frustrated and worn out, I was forced to quit. Sometime during the third week, I clasped with all my might and to my amazement I managed to grip the wall. I latched onto the brick for my dear life; only managing to hang on for about half a second. I fell the ground in joy. Fist pumping, I was stoked to have improved to some degree. Over time the tips of my fingers hardened and I could hang on slightly longer. Despite my minor victories, I was still unable to scale the wall in any fashion.


    Next thing you know Lenny and I are tearing down the highway, blasting "Toxic". I roll up the windows, terrified that the loud music might attract zombies. Lenny doesn¡¯t seem too concerned. "Let ''em come out of the woods. I ain''t scared." We are on our way to Charleston for our first raid.


    My stomach is tingling with nervous excitement. On one hand, I¡¯m pretty terrified of zombies, but it also feels awesome to finally get away from the station. For the umpteenth time, I check the gear Lenny gave me. On my right hip is a machete, ready for zombie action. I glance at the pistol on my left hip. Hopefully I won¡¯t have to resort to that. In my carefully stocked backpack is a coiled rope, throwing rocks, emergency food, and medical supplies. I wish I had some sort of zombie armor, but I just grabbed my eagle T-Shirt and jeans. I briefly considered wearing a jacket for additional protection, but it was mid-summer, and figured I would burn up in even a light jacket. Some durable zombie-armor would be pretty sweet, but I was not quite sure how I would even start such a project.


    Save for his pale yellow construction helmet, Lenny is dressed similar to me, in a camo T-shirt and jeans. There is a slight smile on his face, like he is in his zombie-killing happy place. Lenny''s eyes are giant orbs of peaceful green meadows. I find myself wondering how he can be so calm, as we are headed towards a zombie infested city at 60 miles per hour. We might die here. But Lenny is just grinning, his ragged red hair streaming in the wind as he cranks up Britney Spears.


    We drive to the outskirts of the city and Lenny whips out his map, tracing a route with his fingers. "Alright Eric, we''s goin'' to 8, but them streets are blocked with debris, so I''ll park the truck right here." Lenny says as he points to his hand drawn map. I just hope Lenny knows what he is doing.


    Lenny hops out of the truck, and I slide out of the passengers side. I hear laughing, and I see Lenny draw a can of Monster from the bed of his truck. It''s a Monster Assault, judging from the color of the can it''s cherry flavor. "Want a can?" Lenny asks. "I always have extras." he adds with a wink.


    "Nah man, the last thing I want to do is be loopy when I''m trying to scrap." I reply, not wanting to try anything crazy. Lenny chuckles and drains his can. With a burp, he tosses the aluminum can on the ground. Clink. Lenny''s posture straightens. I can see the peaceful meadows in his eyes ignite and blaze with new flames of energy. With new found intensity, Lenny hauls Zombie Smasher Extreme 5000 from the bed of his truck and howls "Let''s go kill us some Zombie!"


    Lenny marches towards the city, holding the lead pipe like an oversized sword. I follow him, rapidly surveying the surrounding building for any signs of our green friends. Green friends is a euphemism for zombies by the way. I think that''s pretty clever right? Green friends? Yeah, that''s witty for sure.


    "Alright Eric, we''s gonna have to walk through two streets first. I''s already cleared them out, but I''d gander there are at least a few of ''em out out there. Just watch your rear and stay close, but not close enough to get smacked up by ol'' smasher here," Lenny comments as he pats the oversized weapon. I listen closely. The last thing I want to do was take nearly 100 pounds of lead to the back of my head.


    As soon as we enter the first street, Lenny spots a small crowd of zombies clustered over a meal. The sick things are feeding their faces on who-knows-what, eating like ravenous cannibals. Lenny wastes no time. He rushes the crowd of zombies in a flash, swinging his pipe in a horizontal slash. The blow sends the zombies soaring and scream-moaning, one of the creatures must of been at least six feet in the air. I gawked at the sight of airborne zombies, too speechless to even draw my weapon. With a series of sickening thumps, the creatures strike the ground, resulting in either instant death or severe injury. Lenny drops the pipe and flips out his bowie knife, sinking the blade into the skull of each zombie. Lenny then turns around and frantically gestures at something behind me. I rotate and my heart skips a beat.


    There is a zombie inches from my face. I gag at a whiff of rotten stench emanating from the drooling mouth of the creature. Panicking, I grab my machete and flail in the creature''s general direction. The flat of the blade knocks the creature in the head. Fortunately, the blow is powerful enough to knock the zombie over. Regaining my composure, I deliver machete to the neck of the creature, effectively killing it.


    I glance at Lenny and he is shaking his head. "Come on Eric, you gotta watch yer rear. Don''t want ya to become zombie food after all that trainin. Now come on and foller me and don''t get distracted." Shaking off the close encounter, I sheath my blade and catch up with Lenny.


    Lenny spots a group of four zombies in the distance and draws a slingshot from his backpack. I pull out a fistful of rocks and hand Lenny a stone the size of a orange. Lenny rapidly loads the slingshot and fires with military-like precision. The missile slams into unsuspecting zombie-skull, sending the creature sprawling onto its face. The other creatures scream-moan and turn around, but Lenny is lightning fast. Before they can make any ground, Lenny rapidly fires three more rocks, each scoring a perfectly placed strike in dome of the creatures. I resist the urge to smile as I watch Lenny down the zombies. I have no way to know for sure, but I had a gut feeling that Lenny is the best in the business. We continue prowling the streets of Charleston, finding them mostly empty. There are a few straggling zombies here and there, but Lenny takes care of business quickly. In no time, we make it to the edge of Oakwood road, which Lenny had designated as street number 8.


    Lenny debriefs the situation. "By the size of this street, I''d reckon that we got anywhere from twenty to two hundred zombies on our hands. You gotta help me with this one Eric. We use our ranged weapons until them zombies get real close. Then, we beat ''em to a pulp. Ya ready?"


    My intestines are sick and squirming -- I''m anything but ready. But I nod anyway. Lenny gives me a wild crooked grin, yells, "It''s Zombie Time," and charges. I scamper along, trying to keep up.

 CH8: The Dominator

    We bust into the street and run headfirst into a crowd of zombies. The creatures are moaning and groaning so loudly that I can''t even think. There are way too many green freaks to count. I have a brief flashback and I''m in the school cafeteria. Too many people... Just too many people all jammed into a terrible, terrible place my brain flashes. For a brief moment, I freeze up, unable to move or think.


    "Come on Erick, I need ya to kill me some zombie!" Lenny yells as he pelts baseballs towards the mob of creatures. I snap out of it. In one movement I place my backpack down in front of me and unzip. I fumble for rocks in my pack and hurl them at the swarming mob of creatures. Most of the stones don''t inflict death blows, but they daze and injure the howling mob. Unfortunately, there are far too many bodies to destroy with just baseballs and rocks, the crowd of monsters swarms us.


    Once the mob comes into melee range, Lenny pulls out Zombie Smasher Extreme 5000 and I whip out my machete and we go to work. Lenny is an unstoppable force. He tears down countless zombies with each swipe of his massive pipe. He plows through the corpse-strewn field, tearing through crowds of zombies likethey are flimsy paper.


    While Lenny is deep in battle rage, I''m vigilant to keep my distance from the zombies and swing for the head. At first, I''m moving nimbly, dashing in and out of the crowd, chopping undead left and right. I''m like a quick, killer-bunny. Err, I mean killer-rabbit. Like the one in Monty Python?


    Like a freakish Killer-Rabbit, I''m lunging in for the kill, dodging blows, and retreating every now and then.


    After a few minutes of battle, my breathing became labored and my sword arm starts to ache. Out of nowhere, a crooked arm closes in on my face. Startled, I fumble backward and drop my sword, slicing my calf open with the loose blade. Screeching in pain, I crawl away from the zombie, leaving a potent trail of blood for the zombie to follow. The monster rushes towards me and lunges for the kill. I grab the zombie at the wrist and violently shove it towards Lenny. Lenny greets the creature with a crippling blow to the skull, knocking the thing senseless. I take a few deep breaths and think that Z90X strength works. Thanks again Lenny.


    For the rest of the skirmish, I fight more defensively. I have enough adrenaline so that I can hardly feel the wound in my leg, but it''s oozing too much blood for me to just forget about it. If Lenny was any less of a monster, than we would be in trouble, but at the moment it was Lenny vs. a horde of zombies, and Lenny was in complete control. I cover his back, killing a few zombies approaching in his blind spot, but for the most part, I just try not to get in the way.


    Zombies start to thin out quickly. Lenny smashes one in the skull. Then, like a miracle, they are gone. We''ve done it. Cleared out street number eight. I take a moment to survey the wreckage. There are way too many corpses to count, but I had to estimate that there are at least 80 bodies strewn across the pavement. Lenny starts to calm down, the wild look fading from his eyes. Then, it''s gone. Peace. He smiles and says "Alright Eric, we darn right beat the shit out of them zombies".


    I check my leg. Crap. Blood everywhere. It''s covered in blood. This is bad.


    After a few moments, I calm down. I jostle through my backpack, finding a roll of medical tape. I start wrapping with trembling hands, so I don''t tape cleanly, but the bleeding stops. I take a few steps and wince. My eyes water, I try not to whine because Lenny would just make fun of me.


    The street-zombies are gone, but we still have to delve into the surrounding buildings if we want to rescue anybody. Lenny drops Zombie Smasher 5000 and draws his baseball bat. The massive lead pipe is too bulky for indoor use. There is only one house on the street that isn''t wrecked. Best case scenario we find survivors. At the very least there will be supplies.


    Lenny approaches the house, me following closely behind. Just to be polite, he knocks on the door. No answer. Lenny smashes down the door with a sharp kick. I peer into the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of a form of life that is not trying to eat me, but it is all darkness. Lenny clicks on a flashlight and enters the darkness, ready for action. I follow.


    The house is trashed, but not in the way that a zombie would smash the area. It looks more like a group of teenagers had a week-long slumber party. There are countless soda cans littered on the floor, towers of moldy pizza boxes, video game and CD cases cluttered on tables and couches. While Lenny is exploring the kitchen, I pick up one of the CDs. It is Greenday''s hit album "American Idiot". "Lenny, something is wrong here..." I start to stay. Then I hear a shout.


    The noise comes from a room directly to my left. I hobble towards the source of the sound, gripping my machete firmly. Through the dim lighting, I make outthe figure of a door. I try the handle and it''s unlocked.


    I glance at Lenny, heart pounding. He nods. My gloves clench the metal door handle. Slowly, I edge the door open, holding my machete in a ready position.


    "Stupid game! Lame man! That camper kills me every time! Wow, really?" yells a frustrated teenager tossing a mane of wild black hair. He sprawls back on a couch, eyes fixated on a game of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. The teen glances backwards at the sound of the door. Without even dropping the controller he says, " Eric! Dude, what''s up!" It¡¯s Dominick Costa.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    It looks like the zombie assault has hardly phased Dom. He¡¯s still dressed in punk rock clothes; a black, flaming skull T-shirt and gray skinny jeans. His wild black hair is messier than ever. Dom has grown a bit pale, but besides that he looks normal.


    "Dominick!? What! I mean, how!?" I stutter as Lenny enters the room. "Is that Call of Duty!? Wait, are you playing online-" Lenny whacks me on the head. "I mean, how are you even still alive? What have you been doing?" I ask, in complete shock.


    "I dunno dude, chillin''. I''ve got a generator, and my Dad owns a pizza company, so we have a whole industrial freezer full of pizza in the basement," Dom says with a burp "Want some?" Dom gestures towards a half eaten pizza. I take off my nasty gloves and try a slice. It tastes delicious.


    "Woah dude, pizza..." I mumble through a full mouth.


    "Kill streak! Totally cool man." Dom yells as his soldier chucks a tomahawk at an unsuspecting victim.


    "Is that online?" I ask again.


    Dom nods his head "Yup".


    I scratch my head in confusion. How can there be online gaming during a zombie apocalypse? This probably means that there is some safe zone out there... "Hey Dom, can you send them a message and ask them where they are?" I ask hopefully.


    Dom shakes his head. "Nah dude, I''ve already tried, but I never get any replies." I sigh, but hope blossoms in my chest. Even Zombies can¡¯t kill online gaming. But why won¡¯t they reply to the messages, though? Maybe they are Europeans... That would explain it...


    The game ends and Dom finally drops his controller. "Alright dudes, I''m tired of ridin'' solo, let me crash your pad " Dom comments as he a yawns obscenely. Dom stands up, and for the first time notices Lenny. How he had gone so long without even seeing him is inexplicable, especially when considering Lenny''s size. "Who''s the big guy?" Dom says, stifling a laugh.


    "The names Lenny, Lenny Rodgers." Lenny says with an outstretched hand and a glare. Dom settles for an awkward knuckle bump and coughs, "Peace".


    With that, Dom directs us towards the remaining food supplies. There is only a few days worth of pizza left. Why is Dom so chill? He was only a week away from starving. It''s fortunate that we came when we did.


    While Lenny and I stuff our backpacks with the remaining pizza, I ask Dom where his parents are. An empty look enters Dom''s nearly black eyes and he replies. "They were on vacation in Germany when this all went down. I wish I knew dude...." I make a mental note not to mention it again.


    With another yawn, Dom grabbed a makeshift spear that had been fashioned from a mop and a knife. He also grabs a pair of roller skates.


    Lenny gawks at the skates. "Why are you bringing yer skates? We only have room fer what we need."


    Dom laughs darkly. "Ahh Lenny-dude. These skates are my zombie fighting compadres. I glide on these babies and I stick zombies with my spear. It''s just my swag bro. You''ll get it when you see me in action."


    Once we fill our bags to the brim, we head out of the house. Luckily, we don''t run into any zombies on the way to Lenny''s truck. There is an inaudible sigh of relief as we entered the car. I feel like I just finished the most grueling race of my life, and then was forced to complete a session of Z90X. My eagle shirt is soaked with blood. The blood is not coming out, but I think the red stain looks pretty cool.


    Once Lenny hits the pedal, and Dom yells "Road Trip!" Lenny glances at me with hidden laughter. We had forgotten to tell Dominick where we were going. Lenny starts "Dom, we''s just been stayin'' in a Texaco bout thirty miles out"


    "Oh yeah dude, I totally knew that. " Dom replies mildly. Lenny then flipped on his Britney Spears CD. I knew Dom wasn''t going to like that. Before Dom could even speak up, I mouth "Don''t even try". I had only seen Lenny get mad twice. The first time was during lunch when a kid stole his corned beef sandwich. Lenny got his sandwich back, and the kid was then fished out of the dumpster. The second time was when a teacher ridiculed Britney Spears during a history lecture. To be honest, I have no clue how the topic came up. How the heck would Britney Spears come up in a History Lecture? But I do remember having to forcefully stop Lenny from throwing his history book at the teacher. Lenny then stormed out of the class, fuming. When Lenny gets mad, it''s scary.


    Yeah, I''ve always thought it was pretty weird that he¡¯s so into Britney Spears. But, I''ve kind of learned to accept it.


    Dom gets the message, and before I know it I see the giant flashing T in the distance. "We''re here," I tell Dom, as Dom sits up. Gas station, sweet gas station.


    Lenny parks and we get out of the car. Dom takes one look at the station and says "Dude, this is your safe house? Totally bogus, dude. I expected at least a fence or something. I mean, sure you barricaded the doors and windows, but come on man." Dom comments.


    Lenny hollers, "Comin'' from the kid who was too darn lazy to clear the zombies right outside his house!"


    Dom snaps back. "Well Dude, there were like fifty billion of them. And I didn''t have toman, they were like, totally not interested in eating me." Dom jokes as he flips his hair. I glance at Lenny and we rolled our eyes.


    Once we enter the station, we show Dom around. I mean, there isn¡¯t a whole lot to show him, just the food, drink cooler, Lenny''s La-Z-Boy, and the rack of T-shirts.


    Dom surveys the station and says. "Shah dude, so you haven''t like found any chicks or anything? Lame, I expected at least one or two. Your guys zombie fighting party sucks. Every zombie movie I ever watched had at least one hot babe in the surviving group. No fair."


    "This ain''t no movie Dom" Lenny replies, while I poorly concealed a bout of laughter.


    The sun is about to set, which means it''s time to celebrate the successful raid the best we can. I''m browsing the shelves for my favorite candy barswhen Dom suddenly comes wheeling around the aisle carrying a mountain of powdered donuts. "Donut eating competition!" Dom yells. Nobody argues, so I guess it¡¯s settled. We are starting our first night as a crew with a donut eating competition.