“Emory. Wake up Emory”
Her eyes fluttered open and her baby blues were looking up at me.
“How long was I asleep?” she asked, noting the sunlight streaming through the boarded up windows.
“Six or seven hours” I said and her eyes widened but I put my hand up. “I stayed up. You were safe, I didn’t see anything all night”.
We were in an abandoned house with the windows and doors boarded up. It had been cleaned out, some of the walls were busted but it was pretty secure. It had some solar panels on top that powered a water pump from a well under the house. So we had water at least.
She stood up and stretched as I messed with my blanket and pretended not to watch. I think she knows I like her but this is not the time or place to discuss these things. She shut the door when she went into the restroom as I lay down and prepared for a little nap.
A little while later I became aware of her moving around the house, the floorboard creaking gave away her position. She was moving into the front room, a place we avoided at night.
It all started about a year ago. People were losing control of themselves, losing the ability to reason and understand. Society began to crumble as it spread across Los Angeles and then to the entire country and now the whole world. The government had finally given up all pretense of operating seven months ago, the country was nothing but anarchy now.
These zombies were only a part of the problem because there were looters, thieves, cults and everything else one could think of out there. It was a dangerous world out there and one would not survive for long by themselves. That is why me and Emory teamed up, circumstances had thrown us together.
“Jackson get in here, now!”
I roused myself enough to roll over and get onto my knees. I grabbed the shotgun as I stood up and walked into the front room. She was pointing at the front door. Through the boards nailed over it I could see that the door itself was ripped to shreds. It had been whole, mostly, yesterday. I went back to the bedroom and grabbed her .38 and my 30-30 rifle.
“I didn’t hear a thing” I told her and went to inspect the damage through the barricade. Emory unlatched the heavy security shutter we had built covering the window. I could feel fresh air circulate through the room and I stood to follow her. We would hunt food and make sure to defend our perimeter.
When we stepped out onto the wide porch we found there was a dead zombie by the steps, a feral dog was chewing at its neck. She shot the dog. It use to be that she cried after killing something, especially animals, now she didn’t even wince. It has been a hard year.
We would eat the dog if we had to. We’ve done it before.
It would have had to die anyway, it might be carrying an infection. It might spread if it bit someone, nobody really knew how the zombie disease spread.
I had a couple more pages before I abandoned this story. It just sort of bored me. I don't think anything that would have followed would have been in any way original.