Getting Hitched!

A lot has happened since my last post, y’all! A ring of rose gold and diamonds was crafted, a charming little bridge above a pond was decorated with flower petals amidst dancing candlight, and it was there that my exquisite 22-year-old girlfriend agreed to marry me! You should have seen it, friends. Lights were shimmering on the moonlit water, love songs serenaded the air, and we kissed for a good long moment. She was so beautiful, and so happy–I could’ve sworn there was starlight shining within her eyes.

Of course the scene was quite cold, so naturally I had a thermos filled with hazelnut hot chocolate waiting for us on a loose-knit blanket. It couldn’t have been more perfect!

Since then we’ve made all kinds of preparations. We’ve spoken to venues, cake makers, wedding dress stores, caterers, and all kinds of things. We’ve found that a winter wedding is much harder to plan than we realized, especially with five kids in tow, but we’re making it happen bit by bit and we’ll be hitched before you know it! The trick is not going crazy in the process. :)

Containing the Blaze

Dear followers, as you well know, my life is now ablaze with the sudden apparition of the girl of my dreams. I know this phrase is often used loosely, but she is quite literally everything on my wishlist, and I’m not just talking about her physical attributes either. Although I assure you that her long legs, slender torso, and 22-year-old rockin’ hiney are certainly in-line with my desires. :)

From the moment I picked her up at the airport I knew she was more than a fling. The pounding of my heart confirmed that our physical attraction met every aspiration I had from our 2-month long online courtship. It quickly became evident that she’s the type you don’t let go, because girls like her don’t cross your path every day. She has a smile that chases away the clouds that have loomed over my life since my dear, young wife’s passing. Her eyes shine with a light that warms me even on the coldest nights, and she fits the part of the young, jovial mother my children so desperately need. I can’t help but wonder, what power materialized her from the very recesses of my mind to the flesh. As a fourteen-year-old I was fascinated with the concept of a movie called Weird Science, in which two teenagers created an erotic British woman to fulfill their fantasies. I can’t help but wonder, is this my perfect woman? Did God send her to me because of some unspoken law I obeyed? Whatever the reason, however, she is here like something right out of a fairytale and I’m wondering how much longer I’ll be able to go without taking our relationship to the next level. I’m already yearning to pick out a ring and see her in white; to give her a kiss that will last forever and vows that will endure the eternities.

The only trouble she and I seem to have is keeping our clothes from melting off in the wee hours of the night. Granted, most people wouldn’t consider that a problem. Quite the contrary, actually. But she and I are of a faith that permits sexual acts exclusively to married couples. The sanctity of wedlock is of utmost importance to us, yet we have often found ourselves intertwined in many positions halfway dressed and dripping sweet, lustful sweat. My body cries to abandon all my beliefs as I kiss my way up her thigh, yet my mind cries to keep us pure until we have officially said our vows and been sealed by the power of God until the end of time.

Will we make it to a wedding unscathed with this level of absurd attraction? It will take a lot more willpower than I currently have, but I’ll give it my best. And if we fail, you’ll be the first to know.

The Fire is Stoked

Do you believe in signs? If you do, you’re a romantic and I insist you read on.

Yesterday my phone died and I lost the name and number of every person I ever knew. Except one. For some reason, hers was the only one that remained. Eerie? Destiny? Fate? You be the judge.

Two days ago you might have asked me my relationship status and I would’ve said we are exclusive. Four days ago I would’ve told you this girl is making me feel like I’ve never felt before. 2 weeks ago I would’ve told you that we’ll see how things go. A month ago I would’ve told you she wasn’t even interested in me. Today? Today I’m telling you she’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time and my life feels like it’s going to be really freaking good. We’ve talked every night for the past 3 weeks, until the wee hours of morning and even then it’s an effort to hang up. She’s a complete babe, and somehow perfectly fine with me having four kids. In case you can’t tell, I’m in trouble. Only time will tell at this point which direction we’ll go and just how hot this fire will become. She’s coming into town at the end of next week. For you, my faithful followers, I’ll keep you posted. Oh, and did I mention that we sort of forgot to buy a return ticket? ;)

More than just a Spark

Friends and followers, my apologies for the time between my posts. I’ve been busy getting fit as a fiddle and reviewing those girlfriend applications you all sent me. :b

Turns out, as hard as life has proven in previous years, there is much grace yet to be discovered. A path is opening up before my eyes by some power known only to divinity. I do know this about it, however. My beautiful deceased wife told me one day when I was crying my guts out in the middle of a workout, that she would find the woman she wants to help raise our children. In my mind I asked how I would know who she had picked, and she told me just to focus on the kids because she would be brought to me. Days later, a spark ignited with a girl I met online, which has since stoked into a fire hotter than I would’ve ever imagined. Am I a romantic to say so only after a couple of weeks and not having met the girl in person? Perhaps. Am I a little looney for feeling like I’m being guided by the spirit of the deceased? Possibly. But I do know this: of all the questions I have asked this new and exciting spark, she has answered every one the exact way my wife would have. Same favorite color, favorite exotic animal, tv shows, hobbies, and she even shares the same silly knack for making me smile like a buffoon.

I might indeed be some degree of crazy, if that’s what you’re thinking, but this girl has somehow found a way to rescue me from the dismal despair that was once my prison. Whether she knows it or not, she has given me strength I had long since forgotten.

As I asked before: “What girl in her right mind would be interested in a guy with a broken heart and 4 rambunctious kids, no matter how handsome, successful, and young he might be?” I now have my answer: the one of which I speak.

She and I are going to meet at the beginning of next month, so I you have a romantic bone in your body–and I’m not talking about the one you’re thinking–pray she is the one to bring light back to my life.

World’s Youngest Widower

For all of those who have been so anxiously awaiting my next post, I invite you to follow my new blog, which will follow my attempt to live after the passing of my very young, beautiful wife. Without whom I will be raising 4 young sons the very best I can and keep myself afloat in this crazy place we call life. Join me!


Serious business


My wife is in a coma right now and I need her to wake like you wouldn’t believe. This is the only true story I have ever written and may ever write again.

Dear friends, I need your prayers and your faith now like you wouldn’t believe. Please . . . She is so young and perfect. More beautiful than any gem. Not even 28 and the absolute love of my life.

For the princess I so devoutly love, for the four little princes she bore unto me when I made her my queen at age 18, for the sanity I have hanging by a thread after bringing her back to life with CPR, I give you my simple plea: Help her return with your faith.

Thank you.

Yours truly,

The man you know as Aeron MacArthur

Dead Man Walking

Abandoned store

The entire city is pitch dark and full of movement. Hungry shadows speckle the streets like packs of wild animals on the prowl, cloaked in a silence known only to the undead. If not for an occasional snarl I might make the fatal mistake of thinking I have the entire city to myself.

With only my bow in hand and a bouquet of arrows sprouting from my backpack, I can’t help but feel rather vulnerable. For whatever reason the zombies don’t seem to notice me half the time, like I’m a ghost. The other half hate me like I punched a baby. I haven’t quite figured out why I make them so moody, but I’m being extra careful because all it will take is one wrong turn to get boxed in with nowhere to run. Of course, I would feel a lot better with cold steel in my hand and a magazine or two within reach, but I’m about as likely to stumble upon something like that right now as I am a fucking pepperoni pizza.

So, I don’t exactly remember much of anything beyond when I awoke about 24 hours ago. Who I am or when the world went to hell in a handbag are both mysteries to me, and my last memory is of a kiss so spectacular fireworks went off in my head like the time I went to the New Years party at Time Square. I remember the face of the girl who kissed me like that, too, with her rich chestnut hair and big doe eyes, the taste of mint on her breath . . . and then everything went black. When I awoke she was gone and the fireworks were replaced with a migraine unlike any I’ve ever had. Bloody footprints marred the hardwood all around where I lay, but she was nowhere to be seen.

If she is still alive I’ll do whatever it takes to find her, and if she’s dead I’ll gladly dive into the abyss of lost souls to drag her out again, even if it is just for one final kiss. Not that I’m a romantic or anything. I’m just, er, thinking that seeing her again will jog my memory. But first things first. If I’m even going to make it another day in this hellhole, I’m going to have to get some grub.

I’ve honestly spent the last twenty minutes eyeballing a pack of chocolate Hohos and a bottle of Coke Zero through the window of a hole-in-the-wall store on 5th. At first glance the place looks vacant, but that’s because some punk with a green Mohawk is behind the counter devouring the cashier. He looks occupied enough that I could probably sneak in and steal off with the goods, but I’ve noticed that some zombies are faster than others and I’d hate to find out the hard way.

Deciding I’m going to risk it, I glide over to the glass door. Despite my efforts to keep quiet, the bell jingles above my head when I open it. I glance at the pool of blood beneath the cash register to see if I need to run, but the zombie’s still too absorbed in his meal to notice me. I let out a quiet sigh and creep forward. The stillness to the air is so stifling I have to fight the urge to turn back. The sound of his constant chewing has a way of chilling my blood beyond measure.

Snacks are scattered everywhere, making the room look as if it were turned upside down and shaken a couple of times. Every step crunches a pack of Doritos or pops open a Twinkie wrapper, but the masticating never stops.

I have an arrow knocked and ready to loose just in case he comes at me, but it’s sort of a last resort since I’m not much of a marksman. Had the person I was before been a little less into his physique and more into survival, I might have been able to waltz right in and take what I want from this store instead of sneaking around like Bilbo fucking Baggins.

I tear the pack open with shaky hands and practically inhale the chocolatey treat inside. Its so blissful I can’t help but eat more. This goes on until I realize that I’ve already devoured the entire box.

Scratching my head in confusion, I turn to the refrigerators, thinking that a drink might help tame my hunger. After a quick glance behind me to make sure my host is still unaware, I reach for the frosty Pepsi inside.

My hand touches it’s cool surface right at about the same time I see two dead eyes staring at me from within. I fall backward with the bottle in hand, frantically striving to get my arrow knocked before it’s too late. The zombie inside lunges just when I begin to pull back the string, spilling drinks of different shapes and sizes all over the isle. I manage to launch my shaft in mid air, but it glances off the thing’s neck and stabs straight into a plastic bottle.

“Shit!” I exclaim, shoving my drink into its jaw to keep it from biting down on my arm. That buys me just enough time to scramble to my feet and dart down the isle. It looks like I’ll have a clean escape until I realize that the punk is blocking my path, his face and hands awash in blood.

I reach into my pack and pull out another shaft as he progresses. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely manage. Luck must be on my side, however, because I hit him right between the eyes and he goes down squirming. When I try to run something catches my leg and I fall flat on my face, my bow sliding beyond reach. That’s when I feel his teeth sink into my sneakers, ripping off a chunk of fabric before I can kick him in the nose.

Blood splatters down his maw when his nose snaps like a broken carrot, but it doesn’t even seem to phase him. He just keeps biting at me over and over. I feel the sort of panicked you get when a rattlesnake slithers over your feet and starts shaking it’s tail. Only worse because this thing actually wants to eat me! In another moment he’ll reach my calf, and there’s no telling what will happen once his saliva touches my bloodstream.

Frantically I reach out for anything I can get, only to come up with a can of fucking bean dip. In my haste, I don’t even hesitate to whack him across the skull. Luckily it makes him stagger just long enough for me to snatch an arrow out of my pack. He goes for the kill, but this time I skewer him straight through the eyeball. I’m not convinced that’s enough, though, so I roll him over and deliver another dozen or so stabs before finally declaring him dead.

We’re both a bloody mess by the time I cease, but at least I’m still alive. Breathing heavily, yes, but alive nonetheless.

The store is mine, I realize with a hint of satisfaction. Anything and everything I ever wanted by way of junk food is at my fingertips! I’ll be able to survive here for weeks!

I step carefully around the corpses to snatch up one of the soda bottles littering the floor. It fizzes with a twist as if to welcome me to my reward, but before I can indulge in it, the shrill scream of a woman splits the air outside. The hair on my neck stands on end.

“Shit,” I say, screwing the cap back on. “Just when I thought I could relax.”

I shove as much junk food as I can inside my backpack and pick up my bow. So much for festivities, I say on my way back out the door.

The bell chimes behind me when I step out into the street. In the distance I can see shapes moving, but I don’t quite make out what it is until I creep forward a bit. Suddenly I feel very nauseous. Thousands of them are coming, and they look like they see me plain as day.

I begin to run the other direction, but a gunshot down an alley grabs my attention. No matter how dangerous it might be, it’s the first sign of life I’ve heard since I awoke. Before I can rule in favor of good sense, I hear the girl screaming again and go bolting toward her like the idiot I am. To my misfortune, the horde follows.

About halfway down the alley I see the girl kicking and screaming as several men remove her from some kind of a net. She’s frightened as can be, but positively stunning. Her hair is dark as a raven, and her body like that of a goddess. She has a face equally gorgeous, and when they rip her shirt off I see that her breasts are perky and full. My first instinct is to rush in and stick up for her, but I have no way to get up there and I’m outnumbered four to one. I’m in the middle of trying to formulate a plan when I see a familiar face lying unconscious in the net.

I tiptoe forward to confirm my suspicion, hiding in a recess in the wall so not to be seen. My breath is coming a mile a minute now and suddenly I’m remembering things. The outbreak. The ascent to the roof. The fall into the gym where I tweaked my ankle—Chelsea’s kiss!

As quietly as possible, I climb on top of a dumpster, knowing full well that the zombies will be able to reach me in less than a minute. Every ounce of common sense inside of me is screaming to run, but all I can do is stare at that face. Unconscious as the kid may be, I would know him anywhere. After all, we roomed together for nine months.

Kyler, you fucking bastard! Where’s Chelsea? Did you abandon her too? I should leave your sorry ass behind to die like you did to me!

It’s then that it occurs to me. Even if I somehow manage to get away at this point and Kyler dies, all knowledge of Chesea’s whereabouts will die with him. Like it or not, that leaves only one choice: risk it all for the fucking bastard who left me for dead.

The Day I Got Taken

Dark Alley


You seriously have no idea what I’ve been through since my last post. I feel like I’ve been through hell and back again. Engorged zombie hands have groped every part of me from head to toe, and I’m covered in so much fucking blood I can’t tell if one of them actually landed a bite or if I just scraped my arm. I feel absolutely disgusting and probably look twice as bad. I would do just about anything right now for a good long shower and a chance to brush out my hair.

If I sound a little hysterical, it’s because I am. We were supposed to rendezvous with Devin and Chelsea two hours ago, but our quick trip to the Jeep soured rather quickly. It all happened when we turned a blind corner and found zombies munching on my pet poodle. We practically bumped right into them, and I was too shocked at the sight of it all to even move a muscle. All that blood and mutilated fur . . . I still get grossed out thinking about it. They began closing in on us from all directions when the realized we were there, and all I could do was stand around like some stupid statue. Kyler easily could have ditched me to save himself and I would have deserved it, but he actually stayed. If ever I had a crush on a guy, it’s now. You should have seen the way he cut through the middle of them with the little ammo we had left, hauling me past their gaping maws right in the nick of time.

Despite our temporary victory, however, I’m realizing that I’ll probably never see home again. I’d never admit it aloud, but the thought of that is like a needle through my heart. Any time I let my mind wander it strays to the late nights in the sauna I’ll never get to use again, and the breakfasts our cook used to bring to me on the veranda. I recall making out with boys in the game room with the lights dimmed down, talking with mom about our life in Israel when I was an infant, and lounging by the pool in my latest bikini. Those times feel so distant now they could be another lifetime. I suppose they might as well be. From now on everything is going to have to change. Like it or not, the world I knew as a child is dead.

For the last hour we’ve been making our way through town at a limp because Kyler twisted his ankle jumping off of the roof of Dad’s shop. It’s a long way down and a foolish move, I know, but we had to get over the fence somehow. He trooped it out for a couple miles after catching me and fighting through two other skirmishes, but he’s wearing down fast. In the last couple of minutes we’ve gone from a walk to practically a crawl. If it was anyone else I might consider leaving him behind. But not Kyler. If it weren’t for him I’d be zombie chow anyway, so I’ve opted to use my last bit of strength being his crutch. I won’t last long with his weight on my tiny shoulders, though. I’m afraid that if we don’t find a safe spot to rest before nightfall, neither of us will make it till dawn.

My eyes zero in on a moving shadow behind a white picket fence. I can feel my heartbeat quicken at the fear of what it might be, but I’m relieved to see that it’s just a dog rummaging through garbage. This isn’t the first time I get startled. I feel like I’m going insane. Bags blowing in the wind have been taunting me since we left the confines of my house, and I flinch any time a pigeon buzzes overhead–oh, and cats are the worst! I swear I’ll pee my pants if one more hiss at us. The only thing that brings my sanity comfort is knowing that Kyler is just as paranoid.

We take a turn down a dark alleyway to escape an object rustling behind a dumpster. The thought that it could be another survivor crosses our minds, but we don’t want to stick around to find out. Right now our top priority is landing some transportation so we can meet up with Chelsea and Devin before it’s too late. The only problem is that every vehicle we’ve encountered is either out of gas or surrounded by zombies. And to make matters worse, Kyler looks like he could collapse at any minute. He just keeps rambling on about how ironic it is that he’ll die in the same way somebody named Connor did, and how he thinks Devin tried to get us killed so he can have Chelsea to himself. I would be lying if I didn’t say that last part bugs me. Not because Devin will have her to himself, but because that means Kyler still has feelings for her even after we did the dirty tango! I should have known he just wanted to get into my panties. He’s a man, after all. Oh, and in my desperation not to die a virgin, I let him cum inside of me without protection. Dumb move, right? His semen are still dripping down my leg even now. Gross, right? I mean, how much did he pump into me? I better not get pregnant, or I’ll go ballistic on him. Can you imagine getting knocked up in the middle of a zombie apocalypse? As if teen pregnancy isn’t tough enough already!

I shake the thought from my mind as we move down the alleyway. Something about being trapped between two buildings has always chilled my blood, but I do have to admit that it’s nice to be out of the sun. The heat was starting to make my shirt stick, and now I’m thirsty as can be. I would reach for my water bottle, but I don’t dare slow our momentum in the middle of this thing. Not when all it would take to seal our doom is a couple flesh eaters coming in from either side.

We’re about halfway through when a single silhouette comes into view at the other end. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of it. It doesn’t seem to move like one of them, but the prospect of what it might want sends goosebumps down my spine. Especially with the way it just stands there, as if it’s waiting for us.

“. . . Devin knew they were there,” Kyler continues with his arm wrapped around my shoulders for support. “The son of a bitch knew they were out there and he still sent us out to die. I should’ve known he would sink to that level. What a fucking asshole!”

“Uh, Ky . . .”

“If he wanted Chelsea for himself, he should have tried to win her over. I mean, what the hell kind of person sends his friends to their deaths over a girl anyway?”

“Ky, I really think you need to see this.”

“I swear I’m going to tear him limb from limb if I ever see him again, and if he so much as harms a hair on Chelsea’s head—”

I reach under his arm and pinch his nipple. “Ouch!” he yelps so loud it echoes.

“What was that for?”

I roll my eyes. “Quit being an idiot for a minute and look!” I say, pointing toward the other end of the alley.

Kyler’s eyes lock on the silhouette. “What do you want?” he calls out.

The man lets a baseball bat slide through his fingers, only to begin rapping it several times on the pavement. Three ruffians come hooting and howling from the fire escapes in response, all bearing some sort of blunt weapon.

“Well, what do we have here?” one with a greasy tanktop calls down. He looks to be in his thirties, with the knotted muscles of somebody who has works manual labor.

The youngest of the four kicks down the fire escape and begins sliding down, his eyes wild and crazy. “I’ve got dibs on the girl!” he shouts.

“The hell you do, Kevin!” a man with a thick belly snaps. “You know the rules. We share everything in this family. Even pussy.”

“Especially pussy,” the one with the tanktop agrees, grinning. “Now get her skinny ass up here before that horde arrives. The last thing we need is them gathering around our building.”

Kyler doesn’t hesitate to train his gun on the center of the batter’s chest. “Touch her and you die, asshole.”

I scoot closer to Kyler to calm my nerves, but I can feel my knees knocking together.

“Don’t be so selfish, kid,” the batter says to me as he closes in. I can see now that he’s well into his forties, with grey hair speckled through his beard and a biker’s jacket that clings to his frame. “It’s like Ronnie here says. We all share in our family.”

“I’m not part of your fucking family,” Kyler grumbles in a way that temporarily stills their laughter. “Now get the hell out of our way before I splatter your fucking brains across the wall.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he says, smiling from ear to ear. “Don’t you realize that every bullet you fire draws them nearer? It’s no wonder there’s such a big group of them after you two.”

Kyler’s hand falters from fatigue, but he wills it to continue holding up the gun. “What do you mean?”

“The creatures. They’re after you because you make too much noise. They might look stupid, kid, but they know how to track. Before you know it you’ll have the whole town out for a taste of your flesh and this little filly will be devoured like a filet mignon. Best you let us have the girl. She’ll be safer here with us anyway.”

“Take another step,” Kyler growls. “I dare you.”

I can hear the men nearing from above as they reposition escape ladders. My mind races with escape ideas as I look on, but none of them seem practical with Kyler’s ankle the way it is. When I realize that there’s nothing I can do, and that these disgusting men are going to have their way with me, tears begin to stream down my face.

“Kyler,” I whisper in a tight voice, “don’t let them take me. Please.”

He pulls me closer, holding his gun as steadily as he can while edging around the batter. “This is your last chance,” he tells the man. “Get out of the way or start sprouting holes in your chest. Your choice. You’ve got ten seconds.”

“You don’t want to do that,” he says with a flash of anger. “Use that and you’ll only get yourself killed. I promise. Zombies will be all over this place in less than a minute, and you’ve got a bum ankle.”

Kyler looks nervous.

“Admit it, kid. You obviously can’t take care of this girl. Give her up to someone who can. Please, we’ll treat her like a queen.”

“No!” I shout. “Leave us alone!”

“You heard her,” Kyler says as confidently as he can. “Let us go and my friends will spare you.”

The entire group roars with laughter, “The only friends you have tailing you are a bunch of flesh-eating cock suckers,” says the muscular one. “Now give up that bitch!”

“Last chance,” says the man with the bat.

Kyler fires a round straight at the man’s chest, knocking him flat on his back as if he were no more than a rag doll. We make a run for it, but the batter grabs Kyler’s bad leg and rolls him onto the pavement. The next thing I know our gun is skidding out of reach and we’re being swallowed by a fishing net.

I scream at the top of my lungs when they begin hoisting us into the air, kicking and flailing in a desperate attempt to break free.

“A pity you didn’t want to share the girl,” the batter says when he’s finally composed. “We really would have shared her . . . sometimes.”

“Only when our cocks are so sore from drilling her they’re about to fall off!” the muscular one chides.

“This is against the law!” I exclaim. “I’m a minor and a citizen! I have my rights!”

“There is no law now, darlin’,” the fat one says. “But don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Me and my boys are gonna take good care of you. You’ll be treated like royalty.”

Kyler reaches his arm down through the net to grab the man with the bat, but misses. “You won’t get away with this!”

“Next time aim for the head, kid,” he says as he removes a set of body armor. “You’d think you would be used to that by now with all the zombies walking around. I guess some people just aren’t meant to survive.”

Just then the all-too-familiar sound of scuffling feet comes into range and I see the horde approaching from the other end of the alley.

“Let us go!” Kyler shouts. “We’re sitting ducks out here. Please, I beg you.”

The man cocks his baseball bat back with a smirk. “Let you go? Now that’s rich. Where’s the fun in that?”

Before I can so much as protest what he’s about to do, the bat slugs Kyler across the skull and his entire body goes limp as a noodle. Everything becomes an instant blur after that, and all I can hear is myself screaming like I’ve gone completely insane.

They try to remove me from the net next, but I scratch and claw and bite until I nearly fall head first onto the pavement. It isn’t until I land a fingernail in Ronnie’s eye that they get really mad, though. After that all hell breaks loose, and all I can feel is blow after blow wracking my frame until I’m rendered unconscious.

The last thing I remember hearing before it all went dark was the sound of my shirt ripping off amongst the howls of four horny men.

To Die a Virgin?


It’s six o’clock in the morning. I haven’t eaten or slept in over 24 hours. My hair is a total mess and my makeup is streaked with tears. I look like the time a rainstorm rolled through one of my photo shoot in Maui and destroyed two hours of the stylist’s work. Only this time I’m downstairs with Ky racing to pack provisions in the middle of a fucking apocalypse!

Right now Chelsea is upstairs putting together some clothes for all of us as fast as she can, and Devin is keeping a lookout from the camera room just in case one of those things gets inside. In case you didn’t read our last post, there’s literally thousands of undead milling about my yard right now. Zombies or not, I’ve never seen so many people in one place in all my life, but here they are, gathered around my house like fucking groupies at a Justin Bieber concert!

If you saw me this instant you might think I look excessively calm for a girl about to get eaten, but I’m really freaking out on the inside. Chelsea would say that my inability to express fear is an expression of denial, but I say screw her. She lost any right to diagnose people when she used dish soap in the washing machine at age sixteen. Yep, that’s her. Now maybe you can see why I don’t trust her opinion on anything.

Now, lazy as this might sound, I’ve spent the last fifteen minutes eating low-fat string cheese while my 21-year-old college dreamboat crams tuna cans into our backpacks as fast as he can. He claims they’ll be essential to our survival once we’re on the road, but I have no idea in hell how he expects my scrawny shoulders to carry one of those things through droves of zombies whilst somehow remaining unscathed. I thought about telling him as much, but he’s too cute being manly for me to interrupt, especially when he keeps stopping to listen for unexpected visitors.

I guess maybe that’s what I like about him. The whole world is dying, we’re outnumbered with only a couple magazines of ammunition up our sleeves, we’ve just received word that the zombie virus is the doing of some military group approaching from the north, and he wants me to help fit more beans into a backpack?! Poor guy’s gone looney. Sooner or later I’m going to have to explain to him that we don’t have a chance at survival. At this point it doesn’t matter what we do or how well we do it. Eventually we’re all going to be dead.

Now, I’ve been meaning to tell you because all my friends are dead; I have an earnest confession to make. I know it’s a little messed up, given our current circumstances, but I need to get it off my shoulders once and for all. Being in the pantry with Ky while we’re on the brink of death is getting me going in a bad way. I’m not just talking hot and heavy, or lusting after a girlhood crush like I might have done my sophmore year. I’m talking, stick-my-tongue-in-his-mouth, let-him-pin-me-against-a-wall-with-his-dick-and-fuck-me-until-I-can’t-walk-straight, turned on. You probably think that’s weird, I’m sure, but near-death experience do that to people all the time. And don’t laugh, because I’m being truthful here. Since I was little, I’ve always had this secret fantasy to steal a guy away from Chelsea. It might sound cruel, I know, but before you go thinking I’m the world’s worst stepsister, hear me out.

In high school I was still too young to be a fair match for her size 34C man-killer chi-chis and perfect ass, but can you blame me? I’m 3 years younger! When she was popping her shirts and skirts just enough to give every guy on campus his own personal set of wet dreams, I was just outsizing my first couple bras. Needless to say, I couldn’t compete. Any guy who came to see me was really there for her, and any friend I ever had was just hoping for a beauty tip from the great Chelsea Cummings. I was always living in her shadow, always second best. Sure, she’s still hot as a rocket engine, and still got more admirers than she knows what to do with, but I’ve grown up a lot. She might not know it yet, but it’s a whole new ball game now. I’ll wrap Kyler around my little finger by giving him the time of his life, and then maybe she’ll see that she’s not the only Cummings girl who can turn a head. Besides, I’ve got to give it up to a boy at some point, right? I mean, a girl doesn’t work her panties off at the gym all year long just so she can die a virgin.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m not being careless about who I give my cookie to or anything. I really have been saving myself for the right guy and all that, but given the situation I figure that I need to choose between Devin and Kyler. When you look at it like that, there’s not much of a choice. Devin is a smart kid, I’ll give him that much, but he got hit with the ugly stick at some point in his life and I’m not about to give it up to Quasimodo. Therefore, my choice is easy, especially when I take Chelsea into consideration. Right or wrong for me as Kyler may be, he’s definitely the better choice. I’ve already seen his package, anyway, and it will do just fine. Not to mention that he’s cute in a sophisticated sort of way, sweeter than any boys I’ve ever dated, got nice abs, and even decent enough not to look at my boobs when I’m watching.

“There, that should do it,” Kyler says, snapping me back to reality when he zips up the last backpack. “Any last items you want to grab before we head up?”

I try to think of a sexy remark like Chelsea might use if she were in my shoes, but my tongue gets twisted and it comes out all wrong.

He raises an eyebrow in that cute way that floors my libido like the pedal of a Lamborghini. “What is it?” he chuckles charmingly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

My mind is racing with questions. Does he want me? Will he even have sex with me knowing that I’m a minor? Does that even matter now that society is no more? Oh shit, I don’t have a condom. What do I do after he cums? 

To make matters worse, he sees me stealing glances at his crotch and I begin to blush.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” Kyler says, shouldering the packs. “Just have faith.”

“It’s not that,” I tell him. “I . . . need something else.”

“Like what?” he asks.

I bite my lip and sway cutely from side to side.

“You really should tell me soon,” he insists. “If you don’t get what you want now, you probably won’t have another chance for a long time.”

I open my mouth to say what I need, but close it again half a heartbeat later, cursing myself for a fool.

Ky opens the door and steps out into the kitchen. “Speak now or forever hold your peace. We don’t have long before they find a way in, you know.”

I grab his arm before he goes and blurt out, “Cookies!”

“You need what?”

I glance at the ground bashfully. “I need your . . . I mean, some cookies.”

“You want cookies?” he asks, confused.

I nod. There’s no turning back now.

“Alright, cookies it is. Where do you have them hidden?”

I gesture up with my eyes and give him a half-smiles, perfectly aware of how my loose shirt slips off my shoulder to reveal a red bra strap and the brim of an overflowing cup.

The stillness settling about his almond eyes tells me he noticed. There’s no confusing the way they drink in my dark skin and hair, or how they meander hungrily down my slender curves. At first I don’t think he’s going to do anything, but he moves forward. My heart begins to pound like a drum with excitement. By the time we’re standing chest to chest, I’m breathless. I feel like he’s on the brink of sweeping me off my feet with a kiss, but he reaches up to the top shelf instead.

I frown.

“You know,” he says once he has the box of Chips Ahoy in hand, “this all would be a lot easier if you—”

I can’t stand it anymore. I grab him by the belt and reel him in for a kiss. He hesitates for a split second and then proceeds to lift me off my feet. A fire ignites across every inch of my skin when our lips touch. Reflexively my hands begin figeting with his buttons.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks when he comes up for air. “Chelsea might not like it.”

“I don’t care,” I lie, resuming where we left off.

After a moment of bliss, he pauses. “Shit, I don’t have any condoms—”

“Shut up,” I say, sending buttons bouncing across the floor when I decide that ripping his shirt off is quicker. It doesn’t matter, I think to myself. We’ll be dead soon anyway.

The warmth of my skin against his seems to rev his engine, sending his fumbling fingers to unfasten my shorts with the patience of a little boy at a candy shop. I smile giddily when they tickle against my tummy, thinking how utterly adorable he is to be so excited when he’s probably done this a dozen times. I can’t wait to see the look on Chelsea’s face when she finds out I claimed him first. She’s going to be so jealous!

I step out of my shorts when he finally gets them off, and I realize that the time for me to take the plunge is now. I’m down to nothing but my red bra and matching thong at this point, my tan skin glistening with sweat.

Kyler stops for a moment to admire me, his chest heaving up and down from all the excitement. “Holy shit, you’re hot,” he breathes.

I give him a cute shrug and close the door to the kitchen, ignoring the sound of zombies outside to keep this last perfect moment the way I always dreamed it would be. “I’m all yours,” I say as I unbuckle his jeans.

He pulls my thong down next and slowly penetrates my lower lips, sending a tremor of pleasure over me unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I want him to thrust deeper, but he just teases me with the tip until my cheeks and ears turn bright red.

I let out a whimper when he pushes it in further, feeling a rush of pain and pleasure so bitter-sweat I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Every muscle inside of me sings high notes as he continues, and before long I feel a rush of emotion inside of me like I’m going to burn up. Just when I think it can’t get any better, he turns me around to go in and out of me from behind. I can’t help but gasp, a small trickle of blood running out where my hymen has torn. My breath is coming quicker than ever, caught up in my chest in the sort of way that sends goosebumps over your skin. I can hear him panting too, shuttering with arousal. Judging by how firmly his fingers are wrapped around my hips, I can tell he’s just as enthralled as me.

I want him deeper, so I bend a little further and get just what I want it. He’s so big now it hurts, but I can’t seem to get enough even still. He begins to go faster, and it feels so good inside of me that I let out a cry of pleasure. My fingernails dig into the wall I’m leaning against, ruining my manicure. For the first time ever, I don’t even care. All I want is more of him.

When I get close to climaxing again, he pulls out his penis and lays me down on my back like a perfect gentleman. Our eyes meet for an instant, and I see my lust and desire reflecting from his expression. I wrap my slender legs around his waist and pull him in to experience something I’ll never again be able to live without. He begins by going harder than ever. I’m making tons of noise now, and my body’s becoming so hot I feel like I’m about to go supernova. And then it happens. I let out a cry so intense my back arches. My mouth hangs agape as I shutter from the wave of sensation washing over me. Kyler seems to be experiencing the same sensation, pumping semen into me over and over again until we’re a sweaty mess.

When it’s over, we lay there for a moment, holding one another the way I always wanted a man to hold me. Beside us is an overturned box of Chips Ahoy. Kyler smiles at the sight of it and reaches out, his face red with fatigue. “You still want those cookies?” he asks breathlessly.

I accept one with a laugh, still unable to get over the fact that he’s inside of me. “Best. Cookies. Ever,” I say as I finger through my mess of sweaty hair.

“Yeah, that was pretty freaking hot,” he replies with a cookie of his own. “I’m, er, glad you liked it.”

I give him one last kiss before he starts to get off of me.

“We should keep this between us for now,” he says, pulling his penis out.

I nod in an attempt to keep my grin from spreading. “Probably a good idea. Chelsea isn’t going to like it one bit.”

He begins tugging on his pants. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, I guess, right?”

I feel a stream of fluid running down my inner thigh when I stand, and I reach for a napkin. “Shit. Next time we really should use a—”

A noise from the kitchen silences my words.

Kyler’s eyes meet mine with dread. He heard it too. I’m completely naked with his sperm running down my legs and he’s shirtless. If the zombies have breached one of the entry points, we’re toast.

He grabs me by the waist and moves protectively between me and the door, his handgun at the ready. Get dressed, he mouths.

As quickly and as quietly as I can, I throw on my clothes. I wish I could relish just having lost my innocence like most girls do after their first time, but there’s no time. Right now there’s more urgent matters at hand, like staying alive to do it again.

Once I’m decent, Ky opens the door a stitch to peek out. There’s nothing in sight but polished granite countertops and hanging copper pots. Zombies are still banging on the front and back doors, but they haven’t quite managed to break through its four inches of solid oak yet, so we breathe a sigh of relief.

“Just the wind?” I ask hopefully.

Kyler scrubs his hand across his scruffy jaw. “Let’s hope so. Just be glad the windows are too high off the ground for them to reach.”

I nod absently as I rearrange my shirt. “Can I ask you a questions?”

“Of course.”

“Was I . . . good?”

Kyler gives me that grin again and plucks me off my feet, my legs straddling him as he sets me on the countertop. “That was some of the hottest sex I think I’ve ever had.”

I grin. “Not bad for a sixteen-year-old?”

His face goes bright red, and he begins rubbing his neck. “Yeah, um, I kind of forgot about that part, but yes, definitely very hot for a sixteen-year-old.”

I nudge his shoulder playfully. “Don’t worry, I won’t turn you in for statutory rape. Not as long as you’re nice, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, all the same. Maybe we should keep this our little secret.”

My grin widens. “Of course,” I lie. “And, maybe if we don’t die today, we can do it again tomorrow?”

“We’re not going to die,” he says, hugging me. “I won’t let us.”

I close my eyes and reply with a kiss. One that ends up lasting longer than anticipated. It begins to feel like we might have a second bout of intercourse when my eyes open just in time to see a snarling corpse running at us from the basement stairwell.

“Shit, Kyler look out!” I scream, pulling him with me to the floor.

The engorged zombie is on top of us within seconds, drooling bloody saliva as it goes for a chunk out of my leg. I retract just in time to roll out of its way, but it lunges again. Kyler takes a shot with his handgun, nailing it in the spine, but that doesn’t even phase it for an instant. Two female zombie come barreling up the stairs before he can fire again, both missing chunks of skin and sinew where other zombies must have bit them.

“Kyler run!” I shriek, groping the countertop behind me for anything that might be of use.

He turns just in time to take down the first with a close range shot between the eyes. The second one is merely knocked off her feet when the slug takes her in the chest. Before she can get up, more are toppling up the stairs over her.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” I shout as the fat one approaches me. I slash with a steak knife in an attempt to frighten it away, but it doesn’t seem the least bit scared. It just embraces my cut into its belly and tries to bite my hand. I let go of the blade and jump back instinctively, barely evading its teeth. To my misfortune, it snatches my arm up before I can take another step, pinning me against the cabinets with its immense belly.


It falls in a heap of blood and brain fluid before it can taste my arm, its skull pierced from the bullet of a rifle.

“You’re sitting ducks down there!” I hear Devin say from the overhang overlooking the kitchen. “What the hell took you so long? We’ve been waiting up here for you for almost an hour.”

“We—er—got delayed,” Kyler says, falling back with me behind the counter.

“Delayed?” Devin asks with amusement, picking off another zombie with his rifle. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“Now’s not the time to explain, Devin” Kyler groans.

He laughs. “Whatever. Just get your asses out of there before one of them bites you. The last thing we need is for one of us to get infected.”

“Where the fuck are we supposed to go?” I exclaim as I shoot another. “We can’t get to you and they’re crawling all over the back porch.”

“Not since they broke out that basement window and are lining up to get in. It’s just clear as day out there right now.”

“You want us to go out there?” Ami exclaims. “Are you crazy!?”

“Trust me. We’ll climb down from the balcony and meet you outside. From there it’s a straight shot to the Jeep. Easy as pie.”

“And if we get separated?” Kyler asks, switching magazines to fire off a few more rounds. “Where should we meet?”

“We won’t.”

“And if we do?” I shout back. “We need a backup plan just in case, and you know it.”

Chelsea comes into view beside him, her amber eyes scanning Kyler’s naked chest. She looks like she’s itching to ask about his shirt, but doesn’t. “My apartment should be the emergency rendezvous point,” she says plainly. “It’s on the way out of town, but please try to avoid getting ‘lost’ at all costs, Ami. This isn’t a joke. You two could die out there.”

“I’m not stupid, Chelsea.”

She purses her lips. “I know you’re not,” she says. “That’s what worries me. Just remember, I’ll never forgive you if anything happens to Ky. And I mean anything.”

“Whatever,” Devin says, picking off another couple of the creatures coming up the stairs. “We won’t need a stupid emergency rendezvous point if you just leave now. Go through that door and we’ll see you both in five minute.”

Kyler takes my hand and gives me a deep look. “You ready for this?” he asks as we sprint for the door.

I try to forget the sour taste Chelses’s words left in my mouth, but can’t. “Ky, just in case we die out there, I want you to know that you were my first.”

He puts his hand on the knob and begins to turn it. “If we’re being honest here, you should know that you were mine too.”

A smile sneaks across my lips. Before I can think of a reply, he’s already twisted the handle and taken us several feet into the courtyard. Things seem to be going pretty smoothly until we round a corner to find a horde devouring Ami’s pet poodle. We try to back up slowly, but it’s too late. We’ve been spotted and now dozens of them are coming our way.

I go stiff as a statue with fright. Strange as it is, I can’t even feel my toes. The only thing to bring me out of the trance is the foreign sensation of a tug on my arm and the seemingly distant sound of Kyler shouting: Run!

Yun Chi Karate Chops My Ass



By the time we near the rendezvous point I feel like I could fall asleep on my feet. Shoots of early morning light are slipping through the mansion’s shutters, warming the marble corridors like the first day of spring. Ever so faintly I can hear birds chirping outside, as if the world has already forgotten last night’s horrors. A part of me wants to rush out and go for a stroll just to see if I can, but yesterday’s memories still haunt me.

Chelsea and Ami are just beginning to talk like friends for the first time all night when we stumble upon their maid. My heart stops that very instant, freezing solid. A deep slice through one of her eyes tells me she’s not sleepwalking, accompanied by jelling blood smeared across her face and a horrible stench like she shit herself.

“Yun Chi,” Chelsea gasps, covering her face.

The maid, Yun Chi, rounds the corner so quickly I barely have time to raise my gun. Inches before she reaches me, I squeeze the trigger and wait for the recoil, but nothing happens. I try again. Still nothing. It isn’t until I glance down that I realize the safety’s on. Quick as can be, I flick the lever up with my thumb and go for a third attempt, but by then I’m already being knocked to the floor beneath the world’s scariest undead maid.

Chelsea stumbles back when I bump into her on my way down, caught off-guard by Yun Chi’s surprising speed and agility.

I manage to hold the maid’s head of bloody black hair at bay as she snaps and snarls, but she’s so strong I begin to falter. In a matter of seconds it will be too late. She’ll have bitten me and I’ll be infected.

Before I even realize what’s going on I see Ami’s legs come into view. She’s standing over my face, grunting and cussing as she fights Yun Chi off with her knife. I scramble for my gun to help, but by the time I find it blood is gushing everywhere. One of them has proven victorious, but I can’t tell who. I climb to my feet as quickly as possible, knowing that I could never forgive myself if anything happened to Ami because of my stupidity.

Relief finally kicks in when I see Ami’s switchblade protruding from the top of Yun Chi’s skull, leaving her motionless against the wall like some kind of creepy voodoo doll.

“I had no choice,” Ami says, staring at her bloody, quivering hands.

My breathing only starts to calm after I put a bullet through Yun Chi’s skull for good measure. Chelsea gives me a funny look, like that was unnecessary.

“Best not take any chances,” I explain. “They’re getting stronger.”

Ami timidly retrieves her knife from the corpse and then backs down the hall as far away as she dares. “I thought I’d already killed her after she bit Dad,” she explains, “but evidently knifing one of these things through the eye isn’t good enough.”

“I can’t believe it,” Chelsea whimpers, looking like she wants to go cradle the old woman’s corpse. “Yun Chi’s been here since I was twelve . . . and we just killed her. This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Chels, she just tried to eat us,” I explain. “She was sick. If Ami hadn’t acted quickly we’d all either be dead or ticking zombie time bombs.”

She starts to choke up, but manages a silent nod.

“C’mon, let’s keep moving before your butler pops out of a closet or something,” I tell her when I notice Yun Chi’s good eye twitching. “There’s nothing we can do for her now anyway.”

When we’re a good distance away from the corpse, Chelsea turns to Ami and says, “Who else turned that I know? I need you to tell me.”

“Chelsea, you’ve never been good with coping. I’ll give you a roster later, okay?”

“Tell me, Ami. I need to know.”

Ami blows her hair off of her face with a long sigh. “Fine, you really want to know? The gardeners, Tito and Pedro, were first to turn. Then Emil the cook, and after him the UPS driver who always gives a flourishing bow when we cross paths.”

“Who else,” she demands, interlocking her fingers with mine to snuggle up against my arm.

Ami’s dark eyes look like they’re melting as they quiver with tears. “. . . Mom, Chelsea. She turned before Emil. Are you happy now? You always hated her!”

Chelsea puts her arm on Ami’s bare shoulder and gives her a sincere squeeze. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have insisted. Are you doing alright?”

Ami shakes her head of silky black waves and stifles a tear. “I’m fine,” she lies in a shaky voice. “We all have to die some day, right? It’s just too bad it happened like this.”

“Sorry to ask, but is your mom still wandering around like the maid?” I ask bluntly. “Better we find out now than when we’re in a pinch.”

Ami shakes her head again. “No, she’s not. Dad put her down when he realized what was going on, but I think it was that gunshot that drew Yun Chi toward us. We didn’t even know she was in the house until it was already too late. Damn things seem to be attracted to noise.”

Chelsea nods. “Note to self, don’t make noise.”

“You and your dad didn’t change with the rest of town,” I muse. “But he still got infected after he was bitten. There’s got to be something similar about our physiology that I’m missing. Something that kept us from the initially exposure. But what?”

“Don’t ask me why,” Ami says, tugging the loosely knit neck of her shirt back over her shoulder. “I barely passed all of my science classes. Dad was baffled by it too, though. He kept swearing over and over again as we watched it all go down on the news.”

“The news?” I ask, my ears suddenly perking up.

“Yeah, it was pretty disturbing. They had a name for it. Some kind of major outbreak. I think they called it a . . . a . . .”


“Yeah! They were rolling footage in a park of people running frantic when the reporter suddenly had a seizure. When he got up, he was drooling all over the place like a rabid dog. Next thing we knew, he was biting people left and right and others were joining in.”

“And the camera just kept filming?” Chelsea asks in disgust.

“Well, yeah, the camera man and anybody else disinterested in human flesh were busy sprinting to get in their cars.”

“This is bad,” I groan. “Did they say anything important before he turned? Anything about where survivors need to meet up or what protocol the authorities are taking?”

“One other station was talking about the disease being some sort of biological warfare. It was just getting interesting but I noticed Dad was having trouble breathing and I had to stop watching. His face was all pale and he was sweating like a pig. Something about that blank look in his eyes reminded me of Yun, and after seeing what the people in the park were capable of I knew I had to leave right away.”

“I know exactly the look you’re talking about,” I say as we round another corner.

“Did Dad say anything about me before you left?” Chelsea asks.

Ami rolls her eyes. “You always think everything is about you, Chels.”

She turns up her hands. “Well, did he or not?”

Ami’s face is a mask of jealousy. “He said to go and find you because you’ll know what to do. There, are you happy now?”

Before Chelsea can respond, we arrive at the panic room. Devin is inside twisting foil around a wire coat hanger with an array of camera monitors blinking from one zone to the next. “About time you show up,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “I was beginning to think you—holy shit, who is that?”

Ami’s eyes overwhelm Devin in a flutter of sexy dark lashes, smoky eyeshadow, and irises black as onyx. “Chelsea’s kid sister,” she replies in a sharp tone. “Who the hell are you?”

“Devin,” Chelsea explains when he seems too shocked to speak. “And don’t introduce yourself as my kid sister anymore. It’s embarrassing. You’re sixteen now. Try to act like it.”

“I’m two years younger than you,” Ami replies, adjusting the black camisole beneath her loosely knitted shirt. “That makes me your kid sister.”

“Ami, English is your second language. Trust me, kid sister means that you’re a kid. Get it? No boobies, no sex. Besides, we’re barely even considered sisters and your birthday is next week anyway.”

Ami crosses her arms beneath her breasts and tries not to look wounded.

“Don’t be like that or I won’t get you a present,” Chelsea snaps.

“You’re such a bitch,” Ami grumbles. “I hate you.”

“Hate all you want. Somebody has to teach you to be a woman now that your mom’s gone. Being pretty isn’t everything, you know.”

“Oh, so that’s what you’re doing? Teaching me because my mom’s dead? What about before?”

“This is awkward,” Devin says to me as they continue. “I’m just going to keep working over. Let me know when the wrestling begins.”

“They’ve been fighting like this since they reunited,” I whisper to him beneath the bickering. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Nothing,” Devin replies. “We do nothing. I have three sisters and that’s the safest bet. Get involved and you’re better off taking your chances outside with the zombies.”

I chuckle. “Any luck with the TV?”

He shakes his head. “The satellite channels are just airing an emergency broadcast tone. A voice comes on every couple of minutes saying to keep indoors, but that’s about it.”

I scrub a tired hand across my jaw. “Have you tried the local frequencies?”

“They’re all black and white fuzz, but give me a couple minutes and we should have something.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “Let me know if I can help.”

Since the girls are still engaged in a heated conversation, I decide to take Devin’s advice and flat out ignore them. The mini fridge is calling my name anyway, but when I open it my stomach is sorely disappointed. There’s nothing inside but a couple dozen Fiji water bottles and a wheel of goat cheese wrapped in wax.

“Think there’s enough water in here?” I say as I grab one and plop down on the couch.

“My dad’s kind of funny about drinking tap water,” Chelsea explains. “He’s a bit of a health nut.”

Ami nods. “Since he married my mom I’ve had nothing but purified water, gluten-free wholegrain wheat, organic produce, and salted goat cheese.”

“Sounds nasty,” Devin says as he connects the antenna. “My body only consumes Mountain Dew, raspberry-filled donuts, and Cheetos.”

“And that’s why you’ll look like Santa Clause in a couple of years and I’ll still be skinny,” Ami shoots back.

I laugh.

“You think that’s funny, asshole?” Devin asks me aggressively. “Well get used to my diet, because in a couple of days the power will run out and there will be nothing left to keep your precious organic foods from spoiling. You’ll see. All of you will be begging for my preservative-enriched lipids.”

I hold my hands up in defense. “Hey, don’t look at me. On a student’s budget I eat whatever I can get. I only drink alkalized water because somebody sold me a machine as part of an MLM and now I’m stuck with it.”

Ami, now sitting off on the other side of the couch in her short shorts and fur-lined boots, hugs her naked legs and cracks open a water bottle. “I didn’t have you pegged for a get-rich-quick type, Mr. Boxer Briefs,” she says with that crooked smile. “How much did you pay for it?”

I let out a sigh. “Not that money matters anymore, but I paid $6,000.”

Ami chokes on the water. “Did you just say $6,000?” she asks in a tight voice. “And I thought I had bad spending habits!”

Devin shrugs. “I would wipe my ass with that right now. If this . . . apocalypse has spread further than Blithe County—and I think it has—money has lost all its value. Now food, guns, and clean water are the commodities.”

A channel flickers on when he finishes plugging in his makeshift antenna. The image keeps fading in and out, but we can see much more than before.

“Is this a re-run of Breaking Bad?” Chelsea asks from the corner by the fridge. “I can’t tell for sure, but that looks an awful lot like Heisenberg.”

When Devin adjusts the antenna ever so slightly, the picture of an overweight thirty-year-old with long hair flickers into view. “Definitely not Heisenberg,” Devin mutters under his breath.

Chelsea starts to reply, but sound suddenly comes through the speakers.

Fellow survivors,” the voice begins, glitching in and out. “The disease you are encountering is a highly contagious pathogen created for bio warfare. Dangerous as it may be, this is not our only concern. The . . . are invading as I speak. Military Intelligence says they are approaching from the north. You must run. Hide anywhere you can. Be cautious. They will . . . anyone they find at first sight. I don’t know how many of you are out there, if any, but know that help is not coming—

The broadcast fades out to the point that it’s impossible to see or hear.

“Devin, what did you do?” Chelsea whines. “Fix it. Now!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!”

Fellow surv . . . this will be my last broadcast. I am retreati . . . south. Stay in small groups and travel by night as much . . . possible. And above all else, remember what I said about . . . the water. This . . . Peter Walsh signing off. Farewell and goodnight.”

And just like that the channel goes dead, leaving us to stare black and white static battling across the screen.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Devin exclaims. “He just gave us the most pertinent information we’ve heard all night and we couldn’t even understand what the hell we’re supposed to do with the water?”

“Because you couldn’t hold it still!” Chelsea shouts.

“Maybe he was trying to tell us not to bathe in it or our hair will start falling out,” Ami suggests with a sidelong glance at her stepsister. “Sucks to be you.”

Chelsea begins rubbing her arms like they suddenly burn, her expression growing more frantic by the second. “Am I going to turn into a zombie now because I had a shower? That’s so not fair! I don’t want to go bald. If that’s the case, please shoot me now. That would be so disgusting!”

I raise my hand. “Am I the only one here who heard him say that somebody—or something—is coming from the north?”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” Ami begins with a tone of urgency, “but can somebody come look at these monitors to tell me if this is real or if I’m just hallucinating?”

My attention is instantly sucked to a whole horde of zombies making its way through the gate. Thousands of them rip and pull at the bars, opening it just far enough to squeeze through. My breath catches in my throat, and my voice becomes tight.

Just when I thought we were going to get some rest, I think to myself.

“Guys,” I say in a trembling voice, “we have a bit of a problem.”

Our phones appear to be offline, everything is abandoned, and I don't know how much longer we can survive. I'm recording a log of the horrors we've survived so far, because this blog seems to be the only thing that's working. If you're reading this now, please send help! They're everywhere, and it will only be a matter of time until we're consumed.


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