Another day, another cannibalistic businessman. It’s strange how things like this start to get typical during a nuclear apocalypse.
It’s been about a month since the radioactive meteor crashed in the town next to mine. The bug going around has turned everybody around me into mindless cannibals with sharp teeth, who were charging anything and anyone with flesh. It was my participation in track during my freshman year and my knowledge of basic firearm use that has kept me alive this past month, and I was pretty surprised at myself for not becoming a victim yet. With my cheerleader status and my fixation on keeping my blonde hair looking just so, nobody would ever expect me to survive the first week. And yet, here I am, alive and in one piece.
The ravenous man in the suit came charging after me with blood around his lips and all over his yellow tie. I started to run backwards with the twelve gauge pointed at his face and tripped before he pounced at my leg and sank his teeth into my leg, his teeth slicing through my jeans like butter. I let out a scream and slammed the butt of the shotgun into his face, sure that I heard the breaking of his nose. As his jaw left my calf I scrambled to my feet with gritted teeth, pulling the trigger as I swung the barrel to point at his face. The zombie’s head fell to the ground and I limped to my truck as fast as I could.
When I ripped off the bottom half of my left pant leg, I saw that the wound wasn’t as bad as I thought; there was a bloody circle on my calf where his teeth met. Nothing that can’t be controlled by a little gauze. I put my gun into the passenger seat, dabbed my leg with iodine, and wrapped my leg with gauze. I’m glad I thought of grabbing a first aid kit and I hoped iodine would help keep and infection at bay. I checked the box I kept my ammunition in to see how I was doing. I only have one box of shells left, which won’t be much on my quest to find refuge from all of this destruction.
I closed and locked the doors to my truck, ate a few cans of spam, and drove to the nearest gun store. I was not only relieved to find that there were no zombies, but I had also found, upon entering, another survivor; a tall but timid man with blonde hair and hazel eyes who looked like he was around a year or two older than me.
“Hi there,” the other survivor said cheerily, “I’m so glad I’m not alone right now. I don’t want to sound sexist or anything, but I find it surprising that you survived so long. Wow, that really does sound sexist. I’m sorry, I just haven’t seen another person in days unless they were infected…” he chattered on and I continued to look at the guns. I grabbed a 20 gauge, a .44 magnum, and a few boxes of ammo for each of the guns, and started to walk out to the truck.
“Hey!” the guy called after me. I turned around and saw that he had some disappointment in his eyes.
“What?” I called back. He looked down and seemed a little embarrassed. His eyes were really shifty.
“Can I come with you?" he asked sheepishly, "I don’t like being the only person that isn’t psychotic and blood-thirsty.” You and I both, bud, I thought. It would definitely make it easier to keep from and zombies that decide to attack from behind.
"Yeah, go ahead!" I answered cheerily, "Just don't do anything stupid. Name's Janet. You got a name?"
"Brad." he said.
"Well, it's very nice to meet your acquaintance, Brad." I assured, "I do hope you like road trips."