How I Survived the First Twenty Days of the Zombie Apocalypse

Narrated by the protagonist, James Matheson finds himself in a whole new world. A world filled with zombies. This is his account of his first twenty days.

Day 1

The virus that created the outbreak is called the Polynova-A Virus but that's all I know. I don't know how the name came about, what it means or how it started. I don't think anyone does just yet. Anyway, how rude of me, I'm James Matheson and I'm travelling with six other people: four men, one is including my old buddy Tom, and two woman who joined our group just ten days after this whole thing started. They're nice people and we get on well, or at least as well as a group of people hope to get on when the apocalypse starts. Or maybe it's not an apocalypse, just some crazy people meeting more crazy people and eating everybody. I just turned twenty-four in January and now I'm scared I'm going to die. I don't know where my family is or where my friends are, and my dog is missing; they're all people I'm out looking for, maybe I'll come across them on this crazy journey. I don't really know how else to introduce myself, and if I'm being honest I'm not really that interesting, and when it's the end of the world I'm sure you don't want a meet and greet with strangers. 

So, this all began about twenty days ago if I'm calculating correctly. I was in my house watching Frankenstein when I heard a big commotion outside. I though at first it was my neighbours drunk ex-wife making her return weekly visit, but, when I peeked out of the window I saw a crazy guy breaking into a car. In fact there was a bunch of crazy guys breaking into a bunch of cars. I didn't really know what to do. It wasn't normal behavior from my neighbours, and there was a point I thought I was actually in a friend's house where this sort of behavior might be deemed 'normal', but then I was sure I wasn't when I saw Claudia -one of my neighbours- running over to Peter's (another neighbour) house. This is where it got weird. As she was running over to his door one of the... crazies... saw her and stopped what they were doing -in this case they stopped breaking into the car, which was probably a good thing- and started to follow her. She was running, they weren't; they were sort of just cruising along, following her in the direction she was going. When Claudia eventually arrived at Peter's door she almost broke it with her fist with the strength she was chapping it at. But he wouldn't answer it. I don't actually know if anyone was in, I hadn't saw him for a while, but I didn't have the courage to run out and say to her. I felt bad yeah, but there was nothing I could do. Next thing I know this crazy guy is grabbing her and biting her, she's screaming for help, then the next she's not. WAIT, that wasn't even the really weird part. After they guy bit her I closed the curtain and stood at my window terrified. I didn't know what the hell to do, or if they would smell me out and come after me, so I ran upstairs to my bedroom and once I calmed down a little I peeked out again. I looked for Claudia but I didn't see her so, frantically, I scanned the street for her; maybe Peter was in after all and saved her life... or at least that's the comforting thought I had before I saw her hungry looking face staring up at my window... along with the other guys that were breaking into the cars. I counted seven, plus Claudia. Sure wasn't my night, and all I could think about was how I had to get up for work in a few hours. Then I thought about what I'd do. I thought of all the weird movies I had watched when the bodies came back to life after being bitten. So, what did I do you wonder? I went back downstairs, locked my front door and grabbed a frying pan. Kids, don't listen to the movies, they can smash windows. 

I ran like hell out the back door. I don't think I knew were I was running to and in a way I didn't really know what I was running from, and if it wasn't for the fact that I knew I would be their next meal I would have stopped running. After I was a lung down from running I had to stop. I looked at where I was and noticed the small garage I used to go to feed my car. I knew the owner so I walked over and looked inside for Tom and when I couldn't see him I started to knock and call him out. Nothing. I took my chance and went inside, I thought I'd be safer in there than out in the dark anyway, and if there was any of those things inside they would've no doubt responded to my calls with a not so friendly reply. Inside was remarkably spotless; the only thing being out of place was a few cans on the floor resulting in a spillage and I noted that the till was open. Next thing, I hear a noise in the back: not an alarming noise that made me run for hills again but a familiar sound that awoken a memory inside. It was a laugh. It was Tom. Alive and well, hiding out in the back, I'm guessing with a few cans of bud. My guesses proved correct when I opened the door to the back of the garage, and there was Tom, as happy as ever, as drunk as a skunk... well, maybe not as drunk as I made out, but drunk  nonetheless. 

'Tom?'

'Ahhhh, 'ts you, m'friend' He started to smile, and when he spoke I could smell the stale booze off his breath. 'Madneees. Outside, madness. Not. Veru. gid." His words were only half comprehensible, and I realized it was the best I was going to get. 

'So you know what's going on outside'? 

'yaaar' he said. I didn't bother to ask more questions. The world is ending as he's going out in style. Well, not on my watch, if I was going down he was coming with me. Only first I had the extremely hard job of sobering him up which would include a few bottles of water, a pillow, a blanket, a basin. That night was a long one. 

DAY 5

It was a quiet few days to begin with. Tom and I lived out of his garage for a few days or so then the power went dead, and it got cold, and Tom got cranky. We packed up things we could eat and drink, grabbed a map and talked about possible places we could go. It was decided that we weren't to go anywhere in particular and instead just head north.

'so, what was it like?' Tom asked. I looked at my shoes; they were worn now and I thought that if we passed a shoe store, and it was opened, I would definitely go in and look for a new pair. Then I thought that it was a very strange thought to have considering what was going on in my new world. 'What was what like?' I finally replied.

'Being one of the first people on earth to witness the worlds end?' I had never really thought about it. Was I one of the first few people to see it begin? Would I live to see it end? I had no knowledge of real time, no exact date, and even though I knew it was, I still didn't believe all of this was real. Not the dead walking or the violence that had started. I didn't want to believe this was the end to humanity as I knew it. To wake up in my warm bed, next to my dog, the smell of coffee from the kitchen, that would've been great. But instead I get this. Our new world. Sorry kids, It's not always a happy ending. Day eventually comes and goes, and before you know it you have to scramble to find a safe place to live before the dead get to it, or worse, get to you. We walked in silence for a while watching the sun going down, hoping to come across shelter. Eventually I broke the silence: 'When did you know something was wrong?' I think it took Tom a while to realize he was still with me before he answered: 'Well, I was going through a normal day, customers coming and going, the usual. I saw Wendy, she was asking for you by the way. Anyway, I was getting ready to close when I heard a moan from behind the building. I thought it might have been a bum so I shouted round for him to get outa here. As I was setting the alarm It came around the corner. No normal bum I'd ever saw. Grey-looking skin colour, moans, bloody. He came at me so I had no where to go but the garage. Was holed up ever since then you came along just when I'd given up hope. Thanks, man.' 

Tom and I had known each other since the age of five, when my father and mother moved next door to his. The two dad's started going on weekly fishing trips, and when Tom and I were old enough (on our seventh birthdays- Tom was seven on the 10th of July and my birthday was on August fifteenth) we were aloud to go with them, which was a very special treat for us at the weekend. Sooner or later we became pretty much inseparable and fishing became the best thing ever. As we got older, and we were able to go by ourselves, both of us boys would head out on a Saturday with all our fishing gear, ready to catch the biggest fish in the stream. Our dad's would still come with us very often, and it was a very great bonding occasion. When Tom's father died when he was eighteen it hit him hard, and my dad too. That's the main reason we all gave up fishing. Sooner or later, everything ends. 

As sun went down I spotted, from the corner of my eye, a small shed next to a house. It was made of brick and not the usual wooden shed so I though it might be a good place in case rain broke out during the night; we agreed that we'd try and avoid houses at all costs because, well, you know how it goes: man finds house, man gets comfortable, man sleeps, zombie eats man, man dies, man comes back. The same cycle over and over again. There was a light in the shed. Tom said it wasn't too visible from outside so we made do. Inside it was clean; there was neatly aligned shelves with the usual worker's tools which were arranged from smallest to largest. There was a lawnmower at the far corner; a small refrigerator, probably used for keeping the cans cool, and a few hooks on the wall with some digging tools hanging from them. My first thought was this place was creepily neat and far too organized. The owners couldn't be home. My first instinct would be to grab all the tools that I could carry and kill everyone trying to eat me. Tom brought two sleeping bags from his garage so we set up for the night. We tucked in at the fruit he brought, ate a bar of chocolate each and drank orange juice, forgetting all that was going outside for a little while.

'I'll stay up first watch, I'm not really tired anyway and I think you could use the rest Tom. We'll take it in two hour shifts, if you need me I'm right outside.'

'That sounds good, I'll be out like a light tonight. If I don't wake up shake me until I do.' Tom smiled, lay down in the sleep bag and closed his eyes. I knew he would be gone already, I don't think he slept a wink in days. I grabbed a torch from the shelf, took a deep breath and opened the door. Outside it was pretty dark. A few street lights still worked which cast shadows over the ground, making things a little bearable. There was a stool outside I rested on, a little small and uncomfortable but it was better than the wet grass. All was quiet tonight. No movement from any house, no noise from behind buildings, no dogs barking, no people laughing at TV shows. You don't realize that it's the little things you'll miss when they're gone. When I left Tom my watch said 12:15, when I looked again it said 3:05. I had overstayed my welcome outside. I shone the torch light around the perimeter one last time just in case anything was sneaking up. I still saw nothing but I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that someone was around, and I didn't like it. I went inside just as Tom was stirring.

'Time it?' he asked, still half asleep.

'five past three in the morning. Time flew, you're turn.' Tom rubbed his eyes, not wanting to get out of the bag, and in all fairness it was really warm in that shed and not so warm out. I would've told him to stay so we could both get sleep, but I was starting to feel pretty tired myself, and that feeling I had when I was outside still hadn't gone away. I gave him the torch, tucked myself in, and closed my eyes. The last thing I remember was hearing the door close, then the song we used to sing on fishing trips with our father's; the song, I was later told, was made up by me: 

“It's fishin' time,

 Time to toss the line,

 Time to catch, time to relax,

 It's fishin' time...”

Captain Mac was lying on the floor at my bed, peering at me with one eye opened. That was his que he was awake and getting ready to play. 'Here boy' I called out to him. He came pouncing from the floor to my bed in a matter of seconds, smothering me with his morning kiss. 'Good boy, Cap' I said to him. Then something happened that had never happened before: he spoke to me. He told me to wake up �" 'Wake up quick!' I leaped out of bed with the dreaded feeling my dog had been hurt, but I wasn't in my room with Captain Mac. I was in the shed. Morning was seeping in through the window and Tom was in front of me, shaking me, asking me to get up, to get everything packed away. He seemed more on edge than I had been. I got out of the bag and started to roll it up. 'Time is it, Tom?' 

'Seven-thirty' he replied. He let me sleep through part of my shift. When I asked him why he said he wasn't tired so wanted to let me rest a little longer. There was no arguing with him. Everything was packed away and sitting in the corner waiting for us to start our next journey, Tom opened a pack of crackers and we shared them for breakfast. 'What's up Tom'? I asked, remembering the frantic morning wake-up call I got. He told me about his shift last night. How he was singing the old fishing song we used to sing, how he was thinking about his Debora and were she was now. Then he told me he got a feeling. He said: 'That sort of feeling you get when you're sitting around the campfire listening to one of you're friend's telling the tale of the guy who died in the woods and will haunt them for all eternity.' He told me someone was definitely watching them. And he was sure it was more than one. Tom wanted to get moving, he didn't want to stay any longer. I pointed out that it couldn't have been a zombie because once they noticed we were there they would've came at us.

'Exactly.' He said. 'No zombie would wait and keep a close eye on someone. It was a human. Humans. Just like you and me. That's what makes them dangerous.'

I told him about the feeling I got and how I felt the way he had before letting him take over so we picked up our bags, gathered some tools that we could use and headed out. We were heading to a place we did not yet know were we were going. The unknown. And it was scary. Watching the rest of the sunrise, Tom and I headed north again, not knowing what encounters lay ahead for us, or if we would meet anyone else along the way.

Day 7

So, as most of you already know, or should know by now, is that the end of the world is inevitable. It has been portrayed in many movies. The infestation of zombies is upon us and, one day, just like that, they're going to bite you in the a*s. Almost literally. They might bite you on the arm or throat or something but it all ends the same. 

Author's Note

A short story in the works. Just really want opinions on the way it is right now. I'm going to be submitting it into a short story competition at the end of May so I would be thankful for any comment. Anything that needs working on? Or do I need more dialogue? Anything you can think of please.