When it started, I had no idea what to do, how to react, or what I should feel. I was watching the news, some radiologists were investigating a meteor that fell in New York. A news reporter came on screen, switching the screen from the investigation.
“Breaking news, people who have been infected by the radiation from the meteor are dangerous. They are no superheroes with their newfound strength, they are…” she was cut off by a green blurb that cut through the screen with a groan, there was screaming, and the camera fell.
A few seconds later, after animal-like slurping and groaning sounded, the news reporter then fell parallel to the camera, her face haunting me for life.
She was bloody, one of her eyeballs was sticking out. Veins in her neck were breaking free from her. The biggest thing that scared me was the creature sitting on her, eating her brains.
Then suddenly the power went out, and the whole world stopped for a second. All that I could hear was the horrific beating of my heart. I was frozen on the spot, listening, listening for a break in the silence.
A scream from outside got me out of my stupor.
I ran to my living closet to get a flashlight, then to the window. It was pitch black, I felt like a child left home alone, with no way to communicate with my parents.
My husband was at the bar, my parents and I aren’t in a really good relationship right now, they think marrying Rodgers wasn’t the best idea. I have no siblings or at least none that my parents told me. They live out of the country, in Europe.
Coming out of my thoughts, outside I saw cars crashing, people screaming and running around, half the people outside look like they’re either crazy or drunk.
Houses were big targets for bricks, cars, guns, bats, any weaponry the crazy people could get their hands on.
The worst part of it was the blood curdling, bone-melting, teeth-shattering screams. It sounded like a cross between a bear roaring and a chipmunk squeaking or even a crow groaning. These sounds were from the drunk-looking people who were attacking other, normal-looking people.
I only knew all this from the sounds and the occasional flashlight that someone had. Of course, that person with the flashlight thought they were lucky to have a light, however they were just making themselves a target.
I do not know why my house wasn’t a target; it seems as if no one was interested in it. Maybe it’s because no one knows who I am around here. I’ve never met my neighbors, having just moved here a few months ago, and not caring.
At that point, I had no idea what to do. I was alone, I probably shouldn’t call the police; they are likely too busy themselves.
When my husband left, I wanted to hang out with my friend, however, she had to work today in the hospital. The people infected with the radiation from the meteor have been showing up more and more in the hospital, my friend herself was starting to get a headache, even though she was exposed indirectly to the radiation.
I then remembered the meteor; it caused all of this. It was no bigger than a car, it had a ton of burn marks on it from entering the atmosphere. Other than the burnt marks the meteor was very smooth; almost as if it was manufactured. Everyone hoped the radiation was harmless, but obviously, our hopes were in vain.
There are theories out there that aliens had sent that meteor out here to kill us, but I don’t think so. What did we do to them that would cause them to do this? Now I’m not so sure.
I pulled out my phone to call my husband, however dropped it because I shook it too much.
After a minute of struggle, I managed to find his contact and call him.
“Sofia! You’re alright!” Rogers shouted.
“Yes, I’m still in the house. Where are you?” I sighed.
“I’m leaving the bar. They’re monsters, Sofia, monsters!” he shouted. Once he said that, I started hearing the chaos.
People were screaming, glass was breaking, cars were crashing, even the animal-like sounds I heard on t.v and from outside.
“Stay where you are; I’m coming,” I said, grabbing my coat.
“No! You will die out here; I’m barely alive as is. Lock all the doors and board up windows! Remember, I love…” the phone line went dead.
Quickly I did as he said. I grabbed a backpack and threw necessary things inside. You never know if you will need to make a quick escape. I then plopped on the couch, tears welling in my eyes as I pondered.
What was that green blur? It made the same animal-like sounds as outside and had a ton of blisters on it. Digging further into my brain brought up images, movies, t.v shows, and holidays with this creature in them.
It was a freak ‘in zombie. There’s must be an apocalypse.
Suddenly, I began to sob, realizing I’d never see my husband or my friend ever again.
What am I going to do? I can’t stay here; I’ll die of hunger. I can’t leave, either, for I’ll be zombie food.
I decided to make a fort in my room. I put up traps around my house, writing down routes to get to my kitchen, bathroom, and two to escape. I left my basement alone, thinking I could push a zombie down there if the trap didn’t get them.
There in my house I waited; waited for my husband to come home. Here I waited for weeks, eating less and less food as I realized that I should start conserving it. By week ten, my food started to dwindle, and by the end of the week it ran out. Not only was my food gone; so was my mental energy. I’m sick of sitting, waiting, and starving. I needed to leave; this place was starting to smell with my waste, and my lack of hygiene. As I sat there, playing Uno and other games to pass the time by, I wondered if I could eat my own brains and be done with it. But no, my will to survive is too strong, no matter how bored, tired, or worried I was.
After a day of lying down and starving to death, I heard a noise from the front door.
Stepping over my traps, I took a peek out the window next to the door.
My heart skipped a few beats, for I thought it was a zombie at first. But after a couple of minutes, my essence leaped to space. I threw open the door and suffocated my husband with hugs and sobs.
“Rogers!” I shouted.
“Shhh! You’ll attract them!” he hissed, quietly shutting the door behind him.
I disabled the traps so that he could get through.
“You brought food, right?” I asked.
“By the look on your face and how skinny and pale you are, I’m guessing you haven’t been outside or to the grocery store,” he replied.
“You are correct, I followed your orders, my King,” I said. “Where’s the food!”
“Slow down, let me set it up on the table while you go take a seat. I found some wine as well,” he said.
“That sounds like… heaven!” For the next few minutes, my mouth salivated while I watched Rogers pull out the food and wine out of the bag.
“How long were you going hungry?” he asked.
“A few days,” I replied. “By the way, we’re out of water. I tried filling my stomach with some but drank it all. Of course, it didn’t work,” I replied.
“Alright, I’ll have to go to the grocery store. Is there any gas in your car?” he asked.
“Probably not… I saw some guys taking it out for their own car, but they were eaten and the gas they had spilled. Why?”
“We need to drive it to the grocery store. We should not walk; if we do, we’ll be zombie brains,” he replied.
After I ate, I showed him my traps. “Welcome to my humble fortress, also known as the starving facility,” I said as we got to my room.
“Nice, you were smart to build these,” he indicated some of the traps I had at the window.
“What’s the plan? How’re we going to get gas for the car? How did you survive getting here?” I wondered.
“You will stay here, reset the traps. I will go to the gas station and collect enough gas for a long trip in the car,” he said. “I uh… let’s just say I was very lucky to have made it here, and if luck isn’t real, then some divine force is watching over me.”
I raised my eyebrows, but made no comment on the matter. “Where are we going to go?”
As he got his shoes on, he explained that he wanted to drive around to find other survivors and make a colony. He wants to get on the road by sundown.
“I’m sorry, you want to leave and make a colony?” I asked.
“Yeah, you’re going to stay here where it’s safe from exposure,” he said.
“Uh, no, thank you. I’ve been locked up in this house for ten weeks now, doing nothing but crying about the destruction of our world, playing Uno by myself, and eating food!” I shouted. “And let me tell you, I’m sick of cold chicken noodle soup!”
“Fine, you can come once I get the gas,” he signed. “By the way, stay away from the puss that comes out of their huge blisters. If you get any on you, you will be turned into one of them.” For him to be talking about this stuff calmy without even saying he missed me must mean things are very serious out there.
Once he left, I reset the traps and went back to my room to pack some things. As time went by, I drank more and more wine, trying to drink away my worries for my husband. I never drank enough to get drunk, however.
“The gas station is only five minutes away by foot,” I thought. “What’s taking him so long?”
I read a book for the third time in the last ten weeks, which only took an hour.
Grabbing my backpack and a hammer, I thought, “Alright, he’s been gone too long. I’m going to go find him.”
Little did I know, this little trip was going to change my life forever.
I was shocked to see what my street had become, even though I looked through the window and was able to see it during the daytime. There was blood and some sort of blue puss everywhere, half-eaten corpses were littering the blood-stained ground.
Some houses were intact, like mine. Some parts were missing of some, even to the point where a couple of houses had half of them missing. Glass was all about the place, weapons such as baseball bats, guns, and even bricks were found near the homes. The smell alone was enough to make you bleed the inside out.
No unharmed cars were sighted, not surprised, considering all the destruction I heard the first few nights and days following them.
The intact houses had no lights inside. Instead, there was groaning—animal groaning.
Keeping an eye or two on the houses, I quietly walked the streets. I almost fell under a traffic light; I tripped over a corpse that didn’t look human anymore. It didn’t smell like human either.
Shops were looted, roofs collapsed. If not for the blue puss everywhere, you would think this was a warzone.
Dogs were barking in the distance, and I could hear the blood flowing into the deep, dark cracks of the concrete.
So far, I’m alive. So far, so good.
To get to the gas station, I had to pass a daycare. I wouldn’t describe it, for you might sue me; if anyone cared enough to read this journal after all this is over. I will say, however, that I cried for months at end when I thought of that place.
It will take lifetimes for this world to be fixed, and that’s after all the zombies are dead and the radiation is gone. Even then, the world will never be the same.
When I was inside my house, I thought it was all a joke, that there was no way zombies were walking the streets, despite the destruction.
But here I am, walking in the streets owned by the dead, on the blue puss that emits from corpses sometimes, on the bones and graves of thousands of people.
The zombies must be full; I haven’t seen one so far on this walk. I’ve heard them, though.
After my little stroll through the dead streets, I finally made it to the gas station. Next to one of the gas pumps, I saw a gas can. Picking it up, I felt that it was full. Something must’ve gone wrong; I don’t see Rodgers.
I made my way into the gas station convenience store and stopped dead in my tracks.
All over the floor, there was blood and even a few organs. Food from the shelves covered the floor, a knife I recognized as my kitchen knife laid under a shelf right by the person I’ve been looking for.
If I knew what I was going to see, I would’ve never left the house, even if it meant starving to death.
My heart dropped at what I saw, at least I didn’t have to worry anymore.
On the floor, making those animal-like sounds along with snorting, slurping, even a few burps, was a zombie, eating what was once my husband.
I ran, or at least I think I did, for a long time.
The Writer Reader 