Heroes Aren't Born

By Cody Voeller

After a house party, James Ryan wakes to a truly different world, one where the dead walks, runs, rips and tears and where he and his friends are forced to become the heroes they’ve always read about.

Within mere hours of fighting off a hangover James Ryan, college student, and hopeful teacher, finds himself rallying his friends, finding supplies and fleeing for safety in a world brought to ruin, but first, he has to convince them to go. Believing that his childhood home would promise safety for him and his friends he leads them to the small town of Astoria, OR, the famous end to the Oregon Trail. James arrives at an empty house, his family gone and beyond contact, even the family dogs are missing. Every bone in his body is crying out for him to yell, to scream, to grieve the loss of his family, but instead, he turns his anger towards fighting the undead and protecting the only family he has left, even if it kills him. Though he will deny it time and time again James quickly steps up to not only become a hero but to show his friends that heroes aren’t born, they’re forged in the fires of adversity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cody Voeller
• Release date: Oct 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463887325

Cody Voeller

Cody Voeller was born and raised in Astoria, OR. As an avid reader of Science-Fiction, Alternative History, Fantasy, and Horror he used the ever present question of "What would I do" to create his own stories. Cody lives near Portland, OR with is wife and Blue Heeler.

Book preview

Heroes Aren’t Born

Heroes Aren’t Born

Book One of the Survivor Series

Cody Voeller

Copyright © 2018 by Cody Voeller

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Cover designed by Micah Gomes

Contents

Dedication

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Dedication

There have been many who have influenced me both in writing this novel and in life. There isn’t enough space on this page or enough words ever written to express my gratitude, but I will do my best. To my friends, Aleah, Kate, and Andrea thank you for supporting me, pushing me to write more and more to satisfy your craving for a story, for forcing me to write two and three chapters a day. To my family, especially my father, who taught me that I am capable of damn near anything. To my beautiful wife, Marta, who put up with the long hours of editing, incessant questions and hundreds of revisions, thank you for standing by me through it all. Finally, to the online communities who first read my words in their infancy, you acted as my compass, my north star, you set me on a path that I never expected to be on. Thank you, all.

Preface

As I sit here writing this, I never thought that there would be time to tell my story, or that I would even be alive to write it all down. I don’t know if there’s anyone out there left to read what I am about to write, nor do I know if anyone will care about my particular story, but here I go.

My name is James Ryan, and so far, I’ve stayed alive.

When this all began, I was going to school in a small town, nearing the halfway point of my third year, volunteering as a firefighter with aspirations of becoming a teacher. I was used to the small town life, having been born and raised in one, and so the campus with its tiny classrooms and the surrounding town felt all too familiar.

Thinking back, the exams, the homework, parties, girls, and friends, it all seems so meaningless. What seemed so important back then seems inconsequential now. The only thing that matters now is staying alive, keeping those I care about alive.

I haven’t told you exactly what happened because, for some reason, I feel that if I write it down, it’ll be real. It will be absolute. I know it’s real, I’ve lived it. But if I put it in words, put pen to paper, then it can never be taken back.

Ok, here goes nothing. Just when I thought I had it all figured it out, things fell apart. I mean things weren’t perfect, I was single, tired of school, racking up student loans, and to top it all off, midterms were on their way, but I’m ranting. People started getting sick. I mean sick, like fever, seizures, violent behavior, and then death. The only problem was that they didn’t stay dead, they got back up. They got back up off the ground, off of morgue tables, off of fucking gurneys, and began walking around.

Somewhere out there someone opened Pandora’s Box, and just like in the myth, hope was nowhere to be found. I know I haven't said what you’re thinking, that single word that gives a name to what plagues the world. I don’t want to, you know, making it real and all, but ok. Zombies. The Undead. Walkers, Zeds, Z’s, whatever you want to call them. They were real.

So how have I survived so long? How is my story different? I owe it all to the zombie craze of my generation. I’ve read all those books, played the games, watched the movies, but I was still unprepared for what was to come. I knew what to look for, knew how to react, I didn’t think it could ever happen. The dead refused to stay dead, and they were after the living.

Chapter 1

It was the end of my week, and all I wanted to do was to stumble into class, stumble out, and start my weekend. Fate, as it turned out, was not to be so kind.

When I arrived at my last class, there was a note on the door. According to the note, my professor was out sick, and we do not have class. It explained that we were to continue with our reading which we would discuss on Monday. I was only too happy to head home, get a jump on the weekend, and take a break.

When I got back home, I sat down at my desk and started browsing the Internet. Not very exciting, I know, but my roommates were still in class. I started visiting all the regular sites. I checked my email and saw there a couple of messages that I would look at later. Next, I checked Facebook, YouTube, and Twitter. After that, I ran through a couple of news sites. They all had something to say; it was all over the internet. News of a lethal virus that was spreading like wildfire was featured on the main page of every website; even The Onion had a serious front page story. I had thought that it must be a joke, something like this only happened in movies.

Zombies were real, and they were attacking the living. There was a lot of speculation regarding what caused the dead to rise, how long it took, and if there was a cure. What we knew for sure was that, after being infected, the mortality rate was one hundred percent. There were no cases of immunity or people getting better. At least, none were reported. Once you were bitten, the best thing was to eat a bullet.

I sat in front of my laptop and stared at the news pages telling me about the newest plague hitting the market and decided then that I had a few options. This could turn out to be like bird or swine flu. I could ignore it because it was nothing more than another virus that would cause a panic but ultimately goes away. I could act right away, pack up all my shit and get the hell out of dodge. Or, I could wait, watch the news, and get ready to leave.

I closed the lid of my laptop, deciding to wait. I figured it was nothing to worry about right away. I had never been more wrong in my entire life.

Once my roommates had all gotten out of class, we decided that it was time to unwind and throw a little party. By the time that decision was made the reports of sickness and death were already out of my mind. We invited a bunch of people over for a good time. We had food, music, drinks, and of course, as required by every college party, beer pong. The music was loud, and so were we, if things had been a little quieter that night, we might have heard the screams and maybe even the sound of pounding feet. All in all, it was a good night, the last we would have for quite some time.

The next morning I woke up in my bed still fully clothed, reeking of beer and sweat. I squinted at my watch to see that it was already past noon, well past the time to shake off the mild hangover and start my day. I needed a shower before I did anything else, and I knew that people would begin to wake up and head home without much prompting. After my shower, I grabbed my iPod and sunglasses and left the house, carefully stepping over the snoring form that blocked the front door to go for a short run. I left my house with my headphones in and my music playing loud. If it had been a few decibels lower, I probably would have heard the distant cacophony of sirens. My first clue should have been that I didn’t see anyone else in the Campus Athletic Center as I ran by. I headed back to my house for another shower and some breakfast, hoping that all the people who had spent the night were up and out the door because I didn’t want to feed them. On my way there I saw a woman sprinting past me. She was running like Satan himself was on her heels. My second clue should have been that she wasn’t wearing workout clothes, but I was tired, sore, hungover, and hungry, so I didn’t notice.

After a shower, my roommates, Matt and Jason, were up and sluggishly moving around. It was clear that they had had a good night.

You guys hungry? I asked.

Yeah, Jason said groggily, his hair sticking up at odd angles.

Do we even have any food left? I asked Matt.

Only a few eggs.

That’s not even close to being enough, I said, I guess we should get food.

For sure, Jason agreed, his previous grogginess disappearing at the thought of a greasy breakfast.

We got into my car and headed off to a local diner to take advantage of their all-day breakfast menu. As we were driving down the road, there were dozens of students standing directly in our way.

What the hell is going on? I asked, Is this some kind of protest? We got closer and saw that most of them were covered in blood. What the fuck? My heart was beating faster in my chest. We stopped and got out of the car. I headed towards the nearest person, a girl much smaller than me. She was facing away from me and paid no attention to my approach. Excuse me? I asked, placing my hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to me, and I saw that part of her face was ripped away with the tattered remains hanging from the wound. Holy shit!

A mental reprimand followed my accidental outburst. The first thing I thought was that I shouldn’t have said that, it went against how I had been trained. The first thing you want to do is keep the injured person calm, not freak them out by saying ‘Holy shit.’ The second thing I wondered was where all the blood came from. It was spilled all down her front, and the weird thing was that the wound on her face wasn’t bleeding. It was so dark that the skin and blood were almost black. I was so focused on the injury that I didn’t notice her hand as it reached up and grabbed my wrist, squeezing it like a vice. This chick is strong, I thought, too strong.

I had said she was smaller than me, but her grip was beginning to hurt. Once she was locked on, she started to lean in and opened her mouth like she was going to take a big bite of me. It turns out, she had been. I took a small step back and grabbed my hand and jerked it up and out of her grip. The thumb is the weakest part of the hand and if you find someone grabbing you and you don’t like it, use your hand to apply pressure against the thumb, your hand will come away quickly. I took another step back as she began shuffling towards me. Her movements were jerky and slow, but the weirdest part was that she was biting the air like a dog. Her teeth made a creepy clicking noise that seemed to ring in my ears.

Hey guys, I said, my heart pounding in my chest. I think we need to get back to the house.

Good idea, said Matt, his hands visibly shaking from the encounter, Jason stood silent and pale, nodding his head in agreement.

We got back in my car, and I did a quick U-turn in the middle of the road. I shook my head as a million thoughts raced through it. It can’t be, I muttered.

What? What can’t it be? asked Jason.

My sick professor, yesterday’s news, and now this. What else could it be? I said, putting the pieces together.

What is it? asked Jason, forcefully now.

You guys are going to think I’m insane but…

Just fucking say it, said Matt.

Zombies.

Jason laughed. He thought of himself as the ‘logical one’ and couldn’t believe something as unreal as zombies could happen even when one nearly bit me.

Matt, on the other hand, was similar to me. He liked to watch and read most things about zombies and took the situation a little more seriously, or as seriously as any sane person could, anyways. I told them that we had to leave.

Dude, don’t you think you’re overreacting? asked Jason.

Look, Jason, the news says the disease is spreading, that people are dying and now look at what we saw. How do you explain that? We saw a girl with her face ripped the fuck off and you think I’m overreacting? I replied.

Ok, so let’s say that the dead aren't staying dead. Where do you suggest we go? he asked.

We need to get away from here to somewhere we can control. We need to get to my dad’s house, I answered.

Wait, what? asked Matt, Why your house?

Two reasons. One, it’s in the middle of nowhere. More importantly, I have guns there.

And why would we need guns? asked Jason.

Because there are going to a lot more of them pretty soon, I said gravely. Every book and movie I had ever read or watched proved that containment never worked and that what we were seeing was only just the beginning.

Matt agreed that getting away from the school was a good idea and that my house would be best, but Jason just looked at us like we were both crazy. We made it back to the house, and I had formed a limited plan, starting with getting my stuff and my friends somewhere safe. As I began to look around my room for anything useful I called my younger sister to warn her. I received no answer. That’s ok, I reasoned, she rarely ever answers her phone. I typed out a quick text message to her before calling my dad. When I couldn’t get ahold of him either, I refused to think the worst. He was on his way to our house over in Eastern Oregon, and I was sure he was just out of range, maybe crossing over the mountain. My little brother, who was with my dad, was the same. No luck with my older sister and her family. My mind wanted to drift to the worst possible case, but I fought it down. My dad was a tough bastard; they’d be ok.

Ok, Jason, call your parents and see what they think. I’m going to get stuff together to go, I told him. "Matt, you need to call all our friends. You can have them come to the house ASAP. We’ll see if they want to go with us. We know for sure that everyone who was here last night should still be okay unless anything happened in the last hour or so. Make sure you tell them to bring food and water and a weapon.

A weapon? he asked.

Just to be safe.

Matt nodded and asked, What about the people who didn’t come to the party?

Call them too, but start with the people that were there. We want to get them to safety as soon as we can, I said. I thought about everything that needed to be done; we needed to get our friends, collect food and water and get to safety. I’ll be back, I called out to the two of them as I ducked into my room and grabbed a small cardboard box from a dresser drawer.

Where are you going? asked Matt.

I need my gun.

You have a gun here? asked Jason.

Not here, it’s locked up with campus safety.

Matt looked like I was crazy, You’re going back out there?

Yeah, I’m not leaving here without it.

You don’t need a gun, argued Jason.

Did you see that girl? I turned on him. Did you see her face, her eyes? I’m getting my gun and getting the hell out of here.

James, Matt said stopping me, be careful out there.

Don’t worry, I said looking at Jason, There’s nothing bad happening out there, right, I finished sarcastically. He rolled his eyes and walked away.

I opened the door and glanced outside, making sure the area was clear before slipping out onto the street. We lived in a house owned by the college, and so we had to follow their rules. I was allowed to have my weapon on campus, but it had to be kept locked up in the campus safety building, which was all the way across campus. Great, I thought, this is going to be fun.

I kept my head on a swivel as I started up a small grassy hill that was used as a feature to block sight of the campus from the street. As I reached the top, I saw people in the distinct sprinting in every direction, seemingly without purpose. I ducked behind a dumpster at the back of the University Center and after looking through the frosted glass decided it would be a place to avoid. There were dozens of bodies running, shuffling and writhing on the ground. I sprinted along the side of the building and found myself at the front of the library. The doors were closed, but a few lights inside were still on. I saw no one in the lobby, so I went inside, having to pry the sliding glass doors apart with the tips of my fingers. The doors didn’t close automatically, but I didn’t have time to try and force them shut. I made my way through the empty lobby, my footsteps loud on the tile floor. I watched the shadows between aisles, expecting something to come charging at me from the darkness. Nothing came, and I made my way to the back door, again having to pry them apart.

I continued to make my way across campus, hugging buildings and hiding when I heard someone or something getting too close. I had to avert my eyes when I neared my old dorm, all of the blinds were drawn, but I could see the results of a struggle in several rooms. Blinds were bent and stained, glass cracked, and a body rested against one of the panes. I shook my head and kept going.

I made it to the campus safety office, a small home at the edge of the campus, and tried the handle only to find it locked. Makes sense, I thought, why would they leave it unlocked? I knocked on the door, hoping that maybe they were barricaded inside and could let me in. No one answered, but I heard movement from inside. I knocked again but received no answer. I braced myself, placed my right foot below the doorknob and applied pressure. Most doors don’t require a lot of force to open; I would be more likely to put my foot all the way through the door than open it if I used all my strength and kicked it in, like in the movies. The door popped open before slamming into something on the other side. I heard whatever it was crash into something and hit the ground. I glanced around the edge of the door and saw a uniformed safety officer face down on the ground, the printer used for making student I.D. cards resting on his back, cables wrapped around his head. Shit I muttered and slipped into the small building, closing the door behind me. Are you ok sir? I asked but not moving to help him up. That decision probably saved my life. As he slowly turned over, I could see blood cover one-half of his face, staining his white shirt. Fuck, I said looking around for something to use as a weapon. Real smart, Ryan, I thought as I grasped a putter that sat in the corner of the room, leaving the house without a weapon, really fucking smart.

The officer attempted to get to his feet, struggling with the computer cables he had fallen into. I watched his eyes, looking for any semblance of humanity, looking for a soul. What I saw staring back at me was pure, raging hunger. I hefted the putter and brought its slim, heavy head crashing into the temple of the fallen man, ceasing his struggling. I turned to the side and threw up, vomit covering the wall and low shelves that lined it. I heaved again, watching as it splashed on my shoes. I kept going until only dry heaves erupted. I stared at the unmoving corpse on the ground, wondering what I should be feeling. Fear, remorse, disgust? I settled on cold, my stomach still turning, threatening to rise again. I spat and wiped my mouth on my shirt. Fuck, I muttered and turned away from the body. I had come for my gun and had already wasted too much time.

I knew from when I had turned my gun over for storage, that the locker was in the back room, out of sight of concerned parents and students alike. The back room door was locked and, unlike the front door, it was reinforced wood with a deadbolt. I sighed and turned back to the dead man. I knelt down and searched his pockets. I found a small ring of keys and began trying each one on the door, finding that none of them worked. I almost threw the keys in frustration but saw a small lock box on the wall behind the front desk. I tried the smallest key first and almost yelled in triumph as it opened. I checked the sheet of paper taped to the inside of the door and found the two keys I needed, one for the backroom door and one for the gun locker. I opened the locker and looked at the dozen or so handguns hanging neatly inside. Each was labeled with a name, student ID number and secured with a trigger lock, a rule imposed by the school. I would have taken all the guns, but it would have been worthless without the keys.

I pulled my keys out and unlocked the trigger lock from around the Beretta M9, letting it fall to the ground. I didn’t think I would need it again. I ejected the magazine and pulled the cardboard box of ammunition from my pocket and began loading the gun. I jacked back the slide and loaded a round into the chamber and, after clicking on the safety, I put it in the waistline of my jeans. While I would feel better with the gun in hand, I felt it would be smarter to keep it out of sight. The last thing I needed was a cop showing up and holding me at gunpoint, the result ranging from delaying me, detaining me or shooting me, none of which I could afford.

I readjusted the gun and, after taking a glance at my surroundings, started back to my house. I made it back to the library without any issue, but the library wasn’t as I had left it. I noticed a smear of blood on the glass door, a handprint sliding out of focus. Well, that’s not a good sign, I thought, putting a hand on my pistol and walking through the doors. It was only about eighty steps to the front of the library, it being wider than it was deep, and I would have made it without any problems if I hadn’t been such a moron.

As I walked through the lobby noticed there was more than just my footsteps making noise. I heard shuffling and clicking from down one of the darkened hallways leading to study rooms and catalogs. I stopped and ducked down, making as small of a target as I could standing in the middle of an open space. I listened and stared hard into the dark, willing myself to see what hid there. I was getting ready to move when I heard a muffled whimper of fear. Damn it, I thought as I pulled my pistol and inched towards the darkness.

I put my back to the wall near the hallway and peered around the corner, squinting, and saw three bodies shuffling back and forth in front of a study room. Their teeth snapped, causing another whimper to emanate from behind the closed door they faithfully guarded. I backed away from the hallway, making sure to stay away from the opening and retreated to the reference desk. Looking over the scattered desktop, I grabbed a heavy metal stapler and silently made my way back. Looking around the corner, I hurled the stapler over the heads of the three guards and watched as they turned as a group to follow the sound of the impact. Slowly, almost painfully so, they moved as one and shuffled into the stacks. I hurried down the hallway and tried the handle of the study room. Whoever was inside shrieked and pulled the door closed, doing their best to stop me from turning the handle. Stop it, I whispered frantically, I’m here to help you. Let me in. As the door remained closed, I considered leaving. Whoever was inside was risking my life and slowing me down. I’m going to leave, I said trying one last time. When the door remained closed, I thought, Right, fuck you too, and began backing away.

I was about to turn the corner when the door opened a crack, Wait, please, a girl with black hair begged, Get me out of here.

Keep it down and let’s go, I said gesturing with my gun.

Her eyes widened when she saw the pistol, Where are they? she said too loudly.

Who?

Those things that chased me in here.

Probably coming back, let’s fucking go, I said growing more impatient.

I’m not going anywhere until I know… She screamed as an arm flashed around the door and prevented her from closing it. The three bodies, all men I saw now, had returned, presumably drawn by our conversation. They forced themselves into the small room, the girl being driven back by fear as much as force.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I thought as I moved forward, leveling my pistol at the man in the back. I pulled the trigger, instinct and hours of time spent at practice taking charge. He dropped lifelessly to the ground as my bullet ripped through his brain, cutting whatever strings that kept it upright. The other two disappeared into the room, and the screams of terror morphed into cries of pain. As I rounded the corner into the room, I placed my gun at the back of the head of the next man in line and pulled the trigger, blood splattering my face and arm. I turned my attention to the last one as he sat atop the girl in the corner, her screams turning into soul-wrenching sobs as he bit into her flesh, opening a gash in her neck. Blood flowed freely, soaking her shirt and running into the cream carpet of the study room. I aimed and pulled the trigger, taking advantage of his stillness as he chewed to put a third shot through his brain.

The girl was weeping, clutching at her throat, trying to stem the flow of her life leaving her body. I placed the gun on the table that took up most of the room and knelt down next to her. I pulled the sweatshirt she had knotted at her waist and pressed it against her neck, doing little to stop the bleeding. She coughed, more blood getting on my face, and I could tell she was begging me for help. I knew there was nothing I could do, she would drown in her own blood, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. I reached for my pistol, but she gripped my arm, preventing me from reaching it. She stared at me as she died, never letting go, never giving up one last chance at human contact, at comfort. After an eternity she stopped, her grip going slack, no longer struggling for each breath. I covered her face with the blood-soaked sweatshirt and stood. After wiping my hands on my shirt, I picked up my pistol and left the library, fire burning in my chest.

I knew better than to blame myself, the girl had been an idiot, she had let the fear take control, and it had gotten her killed. I knew better, but it didn’t help. I had set off to help her and failed. I swore to myself I wouldn’t let my friends end up like her.

I knocked on the front door, and it was unlocked for me. Holly fuck, Matt cursed, seeing my blood covered face and clothes, What happened?

A lot, I said brushing past him.

What now?

Now we get the fuck out of here, I said closing the bathroom door behind me and peeling my clothes off. I stood hunched over, staring at my reflection in the mirror as the water heated up. I needed to wash the blood off and hoped that it would take my fear with it. I couldn’t afford to be afraid anymore. I looked down at my hand as it shook, the blood beginning to dry and crust over. The adrenaline had kept me up and running, but the result was the shakes, I would get them after particularly intense calls for the fire department. I clenched my fist, Get it together Ryan, I said staring at my reflection, get it together.

After washing and putting on clean clothes, I took a moment to clean the blood from my pistol and secure it at the small of my back. With that done, I started gathering dry and canned food, doing my best to keep my mind busy.

We had several bags of cereal, canned soup, baked and refried beans, beef jerky, and power bars. I grabbed it all, put it in a box, and headed down to my car. I already had a case of water and a golf bag in the trunk of my car. I took out a couple of the clubs and put them in the back seat, making room for the box of food. I left the box of bottled water and headed back to the kitchen. Next to go in the car was every bottled drink from the house, pop, beer, Gatorade, it didn’t matter it all went into my car.

My friends started trickling in, all looking scared and more than a little confused. Hey, I said to Justin, Thomas, and Christina, who were sitting on the edge of their seats on the futon. How are you guys doing? Any of you hurt?

Yeah, we’re ok, for the most part. Christina is a little shaken up. We were chased to our car by a couple of people; I’m pretty sure they were on drugs or something. They were so fast, said Thomas.

What’s going on, James? asked Christina, panic causing her voice to tremble.

I don’t know for sure, but I’ll explain once everyone is inside. Ok? They nodded. Ok, did you bring food and water? They nodded again. Good, what about a weapon?

When they shook their heads no, I silently cursed Matt for not telling them to do so.

Ok everyone, head to the garage and look for anything you can use as a weapon, I told the group.

I waited for twenty minutes and then decided that everyone who was going to show up, everyone that was still alive, was now sitting in my living room. I made sure that they were all armed with things like baseball bats, golf clubs, lacrosse sticks, and one field hockey stick. Don’t ask me where it came from because I have no idea.

Alright everyone, here’s what’s happening. There have been reports from around the globe of a new illness that has already killed hundreds. Now, normally this wouldn’t mean that we have to arm ourselves and head to a safer area, but in this situation, the dead aren’t staying dead. They’re getting back up and attacking the living. According to the news, the virus, or whatever it is, is spreading very quickly and they have no way of stopping it. I waited for any questions, but was met with silence,. Now, what I think is happening, and bear with me is that we have people coming back from the dead. I think that they’re, well that they’re Zombies. What I saw out there… I shook my head slowly and fell silent.

Having not seen me on my return Jason let out a mocking laugh. You have got to be kidding me, James, he said with a smirk like I was trying to mess with, Will you listen to yourself? You sound insane. Ooooh Zombies, he said sarcastically.

You didn’t see him when he got back, Jason, said Matt seriously, there was blood everywhere.

Blood? asked Jason, hesitation in his voice.

Yeah, Matt said nodding slowly.

Doesn’t mean… he began, but Matt cut him off.

Jason, did you get a hold of your family? he asked, his voice deadpan.

No, but…

Any of your family? I added.

No, he said thoughtfully.

What about you, Hannah? Could you get a hold of your family in Hawaii?

No, all the lines were busy, she replied, hugging her knees to her chest.

How about any of you, I asked the rest of the group, have any of you been able to reach your family? They looked away with downcast eyes and murmured ‘No’s.’

Then if no one has a better plan, let’s head to my house. If it turns out to be nothing, then we’ll have a fun weekend. I started counting. There were fifteen of us all together, and I frowned. Wait, where are Samantha and Kelly? I asked Matt. They were here last night.

They didn’t answer. I called four times.

Fuck, I sighed. Hannah, Jessica? You two live near them, did you see anything?

Their door was open on our way here, but we didn’t stop. There were people all over the street, said Hannah.

Damn it, I replied. Ok, we need to finish packing and get out of here. Either you come, or you don’t, up to you. I went to my room and finished packing a small bag of clothes, my laptop, phone, iPod, a few hunting knives.

The first thing we did was head to the nearest gas station to fill up all the cars in our caravan. There were eleven of us spread across four cars. Matt, Jason, Justin, and I were driving. We should have had more people, but some of our friends didn’t believe what I said so they stayed behind. I wish they hadn’t.

At first, I followed traffic laws out of habit, but as we approached a four-way stop with a flashing yellow light and rolled past an upturned car, I decided that the cops had more important things to deal with.

When we arrived at the gas station, it was closed. There was no one working, but the pumps were still on. I swiped my card at the pump, filled up and headed out. Yes, I know what you’re thinking if this was the zombie apocalypse, why did you pay? Well, it wasn’t really an apocalypse yet. It was more like an epidemic, and if everything had blown over, I wouldn’t have wanted to be charged with looting. It’s stupid, I know, but that’s how I had rationalized it.

As we headed down the road, I saw the first of many horrors. A bus had stopped on the side of the road, filled with passengers that had already reached their final destination but didn’t know they had arrived. The windows were streaked with brownish, bloody handprints. The figures moving within were crawling over one another in a mass of inhumanity. We quickly sped by the bus which, with its flashing lights and echoing moans, was drawing a small crowd of what we would come to call Walkers.

There were several ways to get to my hometown, but most required us to travel on the highway. Drawing from what I had read, one of the first things that stop functioning is major transportation, including major roadways. They become congested with cars that will never move and passengers who shouldn’t be moving at all. I decided we would take a back road which would take us through smaller towns and through the hills. It would take slightly longer, but we would have the advantage of not running into many vehicles.

After about an hour of driving, we reached a small town called Vernonia. To my horror, the town was dead, and its residents were hostile and hungry. How could this have happened? I wondered, How could this have spread so fast? I knew the answer, but it was still hard to accept, my mind was still taking some time to fully make the switch from normal to paranormal. I had planned for us to stop here, pick up any food that we could and if the town was