OMAR:
Hi. I’m Omar. I’m twelve years old, love watching movies and camping, and I also happen to be caught telling you about how I got stuck in a zombie outbreak.
P: ‘That is a terrible intro!’
O:‘What do you want me to say? That was his template intro!’
P: ‘Don’t add the stuff that makes you sound like a wuss!’
O:‘That’s not-’
S: *Hissing* both of you! Shut up!’
It all started on July 10th, 2044, when Mom turned on the TV as the rest of us finished dinner.
Some reporter named Oliver Treeston or whatever was on Channel 9 and started talking about how a new sickness dubbed “PLEOE-29374”(shortened to POLE) popped up in Oregon, right next to California. He started describing it as some sort of human rabies that erupted some sort of primal instinct to hunger and then devour flesh or something.
Whatever. The point was, my life had just turned into a real life movie. There was an actual zombie virus just 400 miles away.
My grandmother started freaking out. She had lived through 2020, and even though Grand didn’t think it was that bad, Gram had lost both her parents to Covid back in the day.
As Mom tried to calm her down and Grand tried to turn off the TV, Treeston went on.
“The infected individuals are exhibiting aggressive behavior, insatiable hunger for human flesh, and reduced cognitive functions.The President, Erik McAllister, has issued a statement, stating that even though this situation may be scary, the virus will eventually ‘go away,’ although some experts are doubtful. The virus is mainly spread through bites of infected, and the government has dispatched military personnel to put the state of Oregon under quarantine, establish safe camps, and stabilize evacuation points. Scientists have stated that they are not undead, but still living. In a-”
Grand finally figured out the remote and turned it off.
“Right!” he said, waving his hand. “That’s enough of that! Why don’t we all get some sleep?”
“But…what about the virus?” I asked, turning to Mom.
She was helping Gram up the stairs, murmuring something as she did. Without turning around, she called back: “I’m sure it’s nothing, Omar. I’m sure it will go away soon, or at least get better, like president McAllister said.”
Only it didn’t get better.
Over the next few months, Oregon got classified as heavily infected, and eventually so did Nevada, putting both states in quarantine, while the virus somehow spread to Canada and parts of Asia.
It started getting into California and Idaho too, while the news filled up with reports and videos of people turning, performing muscle spasms as they twitched on the ground.
But still, humanity still wasn’t freaking out, even as cities fell, family members turned on each other, and the poverty level rose ever higher. It was only until the first celebrity death that people started to care.
Some famous actress named Amanda Gordans or something, she got mauled and turned.
The story I compiled over reliable websites and government sources was that she was hosting a pool party. Then, after she changed into an expensive outfit designed to impress guests, she walked into the backyard while people gaped and took photos, then she fell backwards, hit her head, and was strangled by all the fancy ribbons on the outfit, or something like that.
Oof. Bad way to go. Coincidentally, as that happened, many guests were infected, and they started biting everyone.
But most of the internet, according to sources like UltimateTruthWarriorNetwork.com and Theonlysourceyoucantrust.info stated that Indians had pulled the gates open, cackling maniacally as waves of zombies spilled into her home.
T: ‘Wait, they didn’t?’
P: ‘Whadya say?’
T: ‘I’m joking, I’m joking.’’
People started freaking out. Houses were burnt down. People started insisting that the government get everyone out of infected areas.
The government gave in eventually, and that meant, even though 8% of California was infected, we were close to the infected areas, so we had to evacuate to Santa Cruz island.
So here I sit, one week away from the evacuation event, watching the military set up folding tables and tents.
We’ll be going to some military establishment in Santa Cruz Island. The plan was to set up a base here in California, run some tests, check our luggage or whatever, then ride on a bunch of ships to the Island.
While we were eating dinner, Gram kept talking about how she had always wanted to go to Santa Cruz island. I never got the full story, but from glances Grand and Mom kept exchanging, I was guessing that they had been keeping her from the news, and now this was some government funded vacation plan or whatever.
Maybe that wouldn’t have sailed with her ten years ago, but now that she was older, she was much easier to convince.
O: ‘Don’t look at me like that.’
P: ‘Did you just-?’
No pun intended. (There. Happy now, Parry?)
Ahem. Anyway, in the following days, the house buzzed with activity. Mom packed all my clothes in a suitcase, then handed me a brown backpack and told me to fill it with whatever I wanted.
Bad choice. When dad was still alive, we had watched way too many zombie horror movies, much against Mom’s advice.
So I was absolutely convinced that something would go wrong. I was right-
S: ‘Bloody hell. Give me the bloody mic.’
SERAPH:
Hi. I’m Seraph. I’m aged somewhere around twelve, also happen to be caught in the middle of a zombie virus, and love watching my “so-called” friends gape at me while I talk into the mic.
Apparently they think I’m quiet all the time (I’m not. They just talk too much all the time.).
Anyway, Omar told his story. It’s time for me to tell mine.
When I was around eight, both of my loving parents died. Kinda sucks, doesn’t it?
The stupid government turned me into some foster child and stuck me into a house with a bunch of other stupid kids. I lasted about one day before I busted out. It was disturbingly easy.
After I ran away, I changed my name and lost track of my age. I can’t even remember my old name.
No regrets.
Then I heard about the virus from a homeless man, and snuck myself onboard one of the salvation buses I heard about.
There were three seats in an aisle, so I plopped myself in the very back of the bus, against a bored looking white girl who kept reapplying her lipstick every five seconds, and a scrawny boy hugging his backpack. I snuck a glance. It was loaded with protein bars and survival books.
The three people in front of us kept trying to shush an old lady, who was going on and on about how she loved vacations.
Eh.
After everyone had boarded, which involved some confusion with the bus driver, who kept mumbling to himself because there appeared to be an extra person on the bus, which there surely wasn’t.
He evidently proved to be too lazy to deal with it and just started driving the bus.
After an hour or so, after making a bunch of stops where military guys kept testing people for the virus(I hid under the seat every time.), we passed another bus. This was an “A” bus meaning that people with A last names got to board first. We passed another A bus, where people were sitting down, playing music or reading books or whatnot, when a man tumbled to the floor and began twitching wildly.
Uh-oh.
He got up again and leapt onto a man holding a newspaper, who started screaming. Then the bus driver must’ve turned around, panicked, and accidentally drove the bus into a streetlight.
That was unfortunate. It was also unfortunate how the bus then burst into flames, trapping everyone inside.
People inside our bus then started freaking out. They clutched at each other and screamed, as if they weren’t aware that there was an actual zombie virus.
To make it even worse, at our very window, a man with pale skin and white eyes, each of his limbs so long that it felt unnatural, leap frogged onto the window.
The girl was in the middle of reapplying lipstick when the zombie broke open the window, grabbed her by the throat, and leapt back out, shrieking.
Then more frogs, or whatever we call them now, started jumping on the bus, pounding on the windows or shredding through it with their teeth.
People screamed and clung onto each other as the zombies made their way in, teeth and claws preparing to-
BD: ‘Guys we’re out of time.’
S: ‘What? How can we be out of time? You said there was-’
BD: ‘It’s just…uh…there’s a horde’
T: ‘Oh come on…’
BD: ‘We can pick it up next time. Now come on, move!’
Hi. I’m Omar. I’m twelve years old, love watching movies and camping, and I also happen to be caught telling you about how I got stuck in a zombie outbreak.
P: ‘That is a terrible intro!’
O:‘What do you want me to say? That was his template intro!’
P: ‘Don’t add the stuff that makes you sound like a wuss!’
O:‘That’s not-’
S: *Hissing* both of you! Shut up!’
It all started on July 10th, 2044, when Mom turned on the TV as the rest of us finished dinner.
Some reporter named Oliver Treeston or whatever was on Channel 9 and started talking about how a new sickness dubbed “PLEOE-29374”(shortened to POLE) popped up in Oregon, right next to California. He started describing it as some sort of human rabies that erupted some sort of primal instinct to hunger and then devour flesh or something.
Whatever. The point was, my life had just turned into a real life movie. There was an actual zombie virus just 400 miles away.
My grandmother started freaking out. She had lived through 2020, and even though Grand didn’t think it was that bad, Gram had lost both her parents to Covid back in the day.
As Mom tried to calm her down and Grand tried to turn off the TV, Treeston went on.
“The infected individuals are exhibiting aggressive behavior, insatiable hunger for human flesh, and reduced cognitive functions.The President, Erik McAllister, has issued a statement, stating that even though this situation may be scary, the virus will eventually ‘go away,’ although some experts are doubtful. The virus is mainly spread through bites of infected, and the government has dispatched military personnel to put the state of Oregon under quarantine, establish safe camps, and stabilize evacuation points. Scientists have stated that they are not undead, but still living. In a-”
Grand finally figured out the remote and turned it off.
“Right!” he said, waving his hand. “That’s enough of that! Why don’t we all get some sleep?”
“But…what about the virus?” I asked, turning to Mom.
She was helping Gram up the stairs, murmuring something as she did. Without turning around, she called back: “I’m sure it’s nothing, Omar. I’m sure it will go away soon, or at least get better, like president McAllister said.”
Only it didn’t get better.
Over the next few months, Oregon got classified as heavily infected, and eventually so did Nevada, putting both states in quarantine, while the virus somehow spread to Canada and parts of Asia.
It started getting into California and Idaho too, while the news filled up with reports and videos of people turning, performing muscle spasms as they twitched on the ground.
But still, humanity still wasn’t freaking out, even as cities fell, family members turned on each other, and the poverty level rose ever higher. It was only until the first celebrity death that people started to care.
Some famous actress named Amanda Gordans or something, she got mauled and turned.
The story I compiled over reliable websites and government sources was that she was hosting a pool party. Then, after she changed into an expensive outfit designed to impress guests, she walked into the backyard while people gaped and took photos, then she fell backwards, hit her head, and was strangled by all the fancy ribbons on the outfit, or something like that.
Oof. Bad way to go. Coincidentally, as that happened, many guests were infected, and they started biting everyone.
But most of the internet, according to sources like UltimateTruthWarriorNetwork.com and Theonlysourceyoucantrust.info stated that Indians had pulled the gates open, cackling maniacally as waves of zombies spilled into her home.
T: ‘Wait, they didn’t?’
P: ‘Whadya say?’
T: ‘I’m joking, I’m joking.’’
People started freaking out. Houses were burnt down. People started insisting that the government get everyone out of infected areas.
The government gave in eventually, and that meant, even though 8% of California was infected, we were close to the infected areas, so we had to evacuate to Santa Cruz island.
So here I sit, one week away from the evacuation event, watching the military set up folding tables and tents.
We’ll be going to some military establishment in Santa Cruz Island. The plan was to set up a base here in California, run some tests, check our luggage or whatever, then ride on a bunch of ships to the Island.
While we were eating dinner, Gram kept talking about how she had always wanted to go to Santa Cruz island. I never got the full story, but from glances Grand and Mom kept exchanging, I was guessing that they had been keeping her from the news, and now this was some government funded vacation plan or whatever.
Maybe that wouldn’t have sailed with her ten years ago, but now that she was older, she was much easier to convince.
O: ‘Don’t look at me like that.’
P: ‘Did you just-?’
No pun intended. (There. Happy now, Parry?)
Ahem. Anyway, in the following days, the house buzzed with activity. Mom packed all my clothes in a suitcase, then handed me a brown backpack and told me to fill it with whatever I wanted.
Bad choice. When dad was still alive, we had watched way too many zombie horror movies, much against Mom’s advice.
So I was absolutely convinced that something would go wrong. I was right-
S: ‘Bloody hell. Give me the bloody mic.’
SERAPH:
Hi. I’m Seraph. I’m aged somewhere around twelve, also happen to be caught in the middle of a zombie virus, and love watching my “so-called” friends gape at me while I talk into the mic.
Apparently they think I’m quiet all the time (I’m not. They just talk too much all the time.).
Anyway, Omar told his story. It’s time for me to tell mine.
When I was around eight, both of my loving parents died. Kinda sucks, doesn’t it?
The stupid government turned me into some foster child and stuck me into a house with a bunch of other stupid kids. I lasted about one day before I busted out. It was disturbingly easy.
After I ran away, I changed my name and lost track of my age. I can’t even remember my old name.
No regrets.
Then I heard about the virus from a homeless man, and snuck myself onboard one of the salvation buses I heard about.
There were three seats in an aisle, so I plopped myself in the very back of the bus, against a bored looking white girl who kept reapplying her lipstick every five seconds, and a scrawny boy hugging his backpack. I snuck a glance. It was loaded with protein bars and survival books.
The three people in front of us kept trying to shush an old lady, who was going on and on about how she loved vacations.
Eh.
After everyone had boarded, which involved some confusion with the bus driver, who kept mumbling to himself because there appeared to be an extra person on the bus, which there surely wasn’t.
He evidently proved to be too lazy to deal with it and just started driving the bus.
After an hour or so, after making a bunch of stops where military guys kept testing people for the virus(I hid under the seat every time.), we passed another bus. This was an “A” bus meaning that people with A last names got to board first. We passed another A bus, where people were sitting down, playing music or reading books or whatnot, when a man tumbled to the floor and began twitching wildly.
Uh-oh.
He got up again and leapt onto a man holding a newspaper, who started screaming. Then the bus driver must’ve turned around, panicked, and accidentally drove the bus into a streetlight.
That was unfortunate. It was also unfortunate how the bus then burst into flames, trapping everyone inside.
People inside our bus then started freaking out. They clutched at each other and screamed, as if they weren’t aware that there was an actual zombie virus.
To make it even worse, at our very window, a man with pale skin and white eyes, each of his limbs so long that it felt unnatural, leap frogged onto the window.
The girl was in the middle of reapplying lipstick when the zombie broke open the window, grabbed her by the throat, and leapt back out, shrieking.
Then more frogs, or whatever we call them now, started jumping on the bus, pounding on the windows or shredding through it with their teeth.
People screamed and clung onto each other as the zombies made their way in, teeth and claws preparing to-
BD: ‘Guys we’re out of time.’
S: ‘What? How can we be out of time? You said there was-’
BD: ‘It’s just…uh…there’s a horde’
T: ‘Oh come on…’
BD: ‘We can pick it up next time. Now come on, move!’