Day 1 of the apocalypse, March 7th, 2024. 9:01 PM.

If you’re reading this, congrats! I’m probably a zombie, or famous, or dead. Two outta the three ain’t bad!

For those wondering, my name is Kamari J. Klarck. The “J” stands for Jane, but I like to tell people that it's Jock. It sounds cooler. I'm 15 years old, a Pisces, and I love long walks on the beach. I'm sitting inside a busted ass car, and I'm scared.

I managed to nab this…Sedan??? I don't know cars. They all look the same to me. I just know this thing is old and missing a bumper.

And blue, I guess. There was this leather-bound notebook in the backseat, so whoever had this car must've been OLD. It had notes written in it, but I tore those out and stuffed them in the glove box. I wish I had an old pen to fit the aesthetic, but I've just got a regular ballpoint. Awful, I know.

I need to process all that's happened today, which is why I'm even writing, so I guess I'll just get into it. Not like I got anything better to do.

...

It was about 8:30 in the morning. My mom, Tyanna (a lovely woman), was cleaning the kitchen after having made breakfast. She loved watching those gritty cop dramas in the morning. I always acted like I didn't get it, but I was totally into them too. I think one of the main characters had just died when the TV started to beep offensively.

I choked on my eggs, my eyes snapping from the plate to see the president, Oberon King, sat in the Oval Office. He looked rough, almost sorry.

“My fellow Americans,” he began, “It is with great distress that I warn you of a harrowing and deadly threat to our nation. Experiments, conducted in the Sonoran Deserts of Arizona, have breached containment and are spreading fast. These experiments are Type-X: Hecaton.”

A graphic materialized next to the president, showing off a nightmare abomination that resembled a crab. The president continued.

“Spider-like creatures made of bone and flesh. They are faster than you, denser than you, and carry an aggressive infection propagated through saliva and into the blood stream.

These creatures are dangerous, viral, and all attempts at re-containment have proven futile. If you are a resident of the following states, you are scheduled to evacuate via helicopter, effective immediately. Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, Nevada, and California. The virus is expected to reach each state within the next hour, and the infected are lethal. If you are unfortunate enough to come into infectious contact with Type-X, expect to be immediately terminated upon sight. Stay safe, and good luck.”

That's when the broadcast ended. I almost didn't believe it until I heard the thumping sounds of helicopters flying in. I scrambled off the couch and tore open the blinds, seeing people run into the streets and desperately try to push each other out the way.

“Mama?!” I called hesitantly, hurrying to the kitchen only to see her already on it.

She nudged me to the side and swung open the closet doors, snatching up two black backpacks and stuffing them with items. I knew I should've helped her, or moved, or something, but I think I was in shock. I just stood there, looking like an idiot as she did all the work. I was only brought out of my trance when I felt her forcing a now full backpack onto my shoulders.

“Get your shoes!”

I nodded, running to my room and slipping on my sneakers before sprinting back out.

My mom grabbed my wrist like it was a limp fish and tugged me down the stairs. She pulled us to the helicopter closest to our apartment, but a soldier pushed us away, shouting about being full. We tried the next one in line, but that one was full too, and took off before we could get in. The last one had room, but I wasn’t quick enough.

I was halfway in the helicopter when a very panicked group of people shoved my mom inside so they could get on, causing her grip to falter and slip. I stumbled back and tried again to get in, but was thrust away by a soldier who barked “We're full!” at me before slamming the doors.

“Kamari!” Mom screamed before they took off.

The force of it knocked me onto the ground, getting me stepped on by the crowd of people trying to get to safety.

It took me too long to get up again, feeling bruises and gashes start to form as I shambled to the next helicopter. To make a long story short, I didn't make it. Every copter I tried was full, and I was shoved to the ground more times than I could count. That was when the screams started.

They didn't register at first, but when I saw people with chunks bitten out of them, I knew it was time to get the fuck outta there. I ran down the street, pushing folks over to get as far away from the carnage as I could. I couldn't run forever though.

The adrenaline helped, but it didn't stop one of those little fuckers the president was talking about from latching itself onto my right calf. I pried the thing off by its fucked up legs, cringing at the texture before smashing it on the ground over and over again. Kinda like The Incredible Hulk from that one movie. Ya know, the one where he goes, “puny god”?

Sorry, that was stupid.

Looking down at the pile of weird spider/crab guts, I stomped on it one last time before resuming my sprint, now limping due to the bite. It throbbed, and I could feel it starting to swell up.

After managing to outrun the horde of what I could now only describe as big, white, bald, sweaty zombies, I turned into an alleyway and tore open the door of a busted-up blue car. After climbing in, I caught my breath before rummaging around for the keys.

They were under my ass in the passenger's seat, so I climbed over to the driver's side and shoved them into the ignition. I'm glad they worked, because when I looked up from the wheel, a group of four or five zombies were shambling, then sprinting towards me.

I locked the doors and quickly figured out how to put that bitch in reverse before backing it up and then shifting to drive to run them mother fuckers over. The street passed by in a blur, and I prayed to whatever God there was that I didn't crash. God must’ve been feeling extra generous, because I made it downtown semi-safely to a barren, recently abandoned plaza.

It was so quiet. Like the kind of quiet you get at 3-4 in the morning when nobody's awake. I half heartedly scanned the area, too exhausted to do much more before doing a real shitty job at actually parking. My body sank into the fur-lined seat.

The adrenaline started to fade, causing me to wince as the pain in my leg shot up my body. I forced it up onto the middle console and tugged my sweatpants out of the way to see a throbbing, oozing, green bite.

That shit was nasty. It wasn't even bleeding, just oozing weird, chunky pus. I let my head fall back, blinking away tears and calming my breath. Pulling off my backpack, I rummaged around for anything I could use. Thank god for my mom with her quick thinking and smart decisions.

She had packed a rope, two full water bottles, a flashlight, a power bank, duct tape, a switch blade, granola bars, trail mix, chips, a mini first aid kit, canned corn and peaches, and a loaded pistol.

I cracked open the med kit, fishing out the gauze, disinfectant wipes, and pain meds. Biting down on the steering wheel, I started cleaning the wound, grunting and hissing as the disinfectant stung my skin. It burned, especially in reaction with the pus. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I persisted and eventually wrapped the bite in bandages. I then dry swallowed four pain meds, not wanting to waste the water just yet. I ate a granola bar, giving myself a minute.

About an hour passed before I was looking through the car for anything else of use. There was a bunch of shit, including paperwork, a toolbox, a lighter, a box of cigars, and military dog tags.

The last thing I found was this notebook, and that's where we are now.

...

I don't want to alarm you, but as it happens, I'm not dead. That also means I have to think of something to do now. Like, I could just stay in this car for the rest of my life, but I really don't wanna do that.

It's 10 pm now, and I'm exhausted. I'll think of a plan in the morning, but for now I just want to get some sleep. The heater works, but I don't want to run out of gas, so I guess I'll just freeze. Night y'all. Let's hope I'm not dead by the morning.

Day 2 of the apocalypse, March 8th, 2024. 9:31 AM.

Morning. I don't know what to write right now, but I'll give it a shot anyway. I just woke up from the worst fucking sleep of my life, I swear to God. You know when you go to sleep in a weird position and then wake up with the most excruciating pain in your neck? Imagine that, but all over your body. Fun, right?

Not really.

I've been thinking a lot about it, and I feel like the plan is gonna be to get out of LA. Most people by this point are probably zombies, so I'm not sticking around to join the party. I know there's a forest nearby, and I'm thinking of heading that way, which I think is like, up? I'm directionally challenged.

If I'm going to the forest though, I'll need camping supplies. I've been camping before, so I think I'll be able to gauge what I need.

☐ Sleeping bag/blanket

☐ One of those water purifying straw thingies

☐ Jerky?

☐ Definitely a can opener

☐ Mini camp stove

☐ Backup clothes

☐ A map

☐ Bug spray

☐ Gas

The bug spray may seem a little luxurious considering my current situation, but I've already been bitten once—I don't need misquotes to add to the mess.

Speaking of my bite, that bitch still hurts. I cleaned it again and changed the bandages. It looks a lot worse than it did yesterday, but the puss isn't chunky anymore. I don't know if that's a good thing. The areas where the teeth sunk in are turning green and mushy at the edges, like some kind of mold. I think I'm turning into a zombie, but if that were the case, wouldn't I already be one? I've seen how fast those bites work, but maybe this one's just taking its sweet time.

I don't want to die. I don't want to become a zombie. I'm scared, and the more I think about it, the more paralyzing it is. I'm gonna eat a granola bar and drink water before wandering around this plaza. They've got stores I could use, and I don't see any zombies, so it's probably safe. Right?

...

Wrong. So very wrong.

I did what I said I would, eating the granola bar, drinking water, and then going shopping. There was a hammer from the toolbox in the backseat and I carried it with me as a weapon. I had the gun on me, but that thing only held, like, ten rounds, and I had no backup ammo. I’d be better off using something that didn’t use a resource.

There was a tiny grocery store to the far right of the plaza, so I pulled up my hood and made my way to the front. The bell rang as I entered, causing me to jump and scan for anything that could've been alerted by the noise. There was nothing and nobody there, save for a few dead bodies. Looking at them made me sick. Most were nearly devoured, but a few only had chunks bitten out of them.

One was an interesting looking business man with a peeling mullet, blue dress shirt, and ripped up tie. Poor guy, must’ve been on his way to work when this thing hit.

He’s lucky he’s just dead though, because zombies look like they’re in immense amounts of pain. They sound like it too. I stepped over him though and pressed on.

Some of the shelves were knocked over, but still stalked with stuff. That canned goods aisle was calling my name, and the drinks aisle with the fat packages of water bottles. Energy drinks would be helpful later too, so I stuffed some cans into the bag pockets and cracked one open. The takings were abundant. A survivor's wet dream. But I paused when I heard a slow, almost inaudible scraping behind me. All the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight, and I turned my head to see the dead business man from before shamble upright and stare directly at me.

It lunged wildly, swaying as it attempted to charge me. I swung my hammer across its jaw, cracking its bones, though this didn’t deter it.

It crowded me into a shelf , which made us both topple over, jars of marinara shattering to the floor.

The shelves dug into my back and I started to sob, kicking and fighting for my life. I somehow slid out from under it and stood above it, staring at this heaping mass of death. It couldn’t get up, having got its foot caught under the shelf in the craziest yoga pose I’d ever seen in my life. The legs were twisted backwards while the torso was forward, flopping on the shelves like a fish with its twisted foot crushed, partially by its own weight.

I stared at this thing for what felt like a second and a ten minutes at the same time before looking at my hammer. That thing was suffering. It didn’t choose to die and become a feral beast.

I stared at this thing for what felt like a second and a ten minutes at the same time before looking at my hammer. That thing was suffering. It didn’t choose to die and become a feral beast. The man who this was before was probably just doing a quick grocery run before work, not thinking he’d become such a disgusting thing.

My gut twisted in sympathy, and before I could think better of it I swung my hammer and began to bash its decaying brains in. I sobbed while I did it, but no one deserved a fate like this. I didn’t know if the person who this used to be could feel it, but it was clearly suffering. I wanted to give it peace.

Once that was done, I readjusted my bag before walking out the store. I dropped my haul back at the car and wiped my eyes before progressing.

Next to the store was an auto-parts joint with a few zombies up and shuffling about, but they were all located behind the counter so I counted on them not knowing how to jump.

The haul was four jugs of gas, a fat crowbar, and a tin of Altoids by the cash register. Only the best for my survival. I got out of there scot-free, no scuffles, but I was not so lucky with the pharmacy.

I had entered just as I did with the last two buildings, quietly as possible, when not one, not two, but FIVE of those FUCK ASS NIGGAS JUMPED ME. I ain’t even clock them ‘til I had slashes all up across my back. When I whipped around, I was being tackled by all five of these supercharged asswipes.

Those were the, “OG” zombies, you feel me? The big, bald, sweaty ones with white skin and faces that looked almost human but stretched and warped along with the rest of their body.

They were a lot stronger than the other ones, which are just decaying people who move. These ones don’t even look like traditional zombies, they’re just fucking scary.

They were maybe 6 feet tall, and just so slick. It was fucking nasty. From what I saw yesterday, these ones come from that little spider thing that bit me. I remember seeing a woman be bit by one and instantly morph and turn into one of these. They’re just so fucking gross.

They weren’t working together, they just all wanted to bite me so the force of them held me down. They unhinged their jaws, showing one row of weirdly straight teeth that protracted from their gums. One got a bite, and I shrieked like a chick in a horror film. I guess I was in a horror film.

Then, it stopped, and slowly took its teeth out of me, just staring. I was a blubbering mess, hyperventilating, in pain. It dropped me, and the others did too, just looking at me. I took that opportunity to wiggle out from under the zombie orgy and grab my bag. They didn’t follow me.

I could've used the extra bandages and general medical supplies from that pharmacy, but the universe had other plans. I clutched the heavily bleeding bite on my shoulder and raced out that door as fast as my legs would let me, the pain and tears in my eyes partially blinding me.

I booked it to the car and ducked inside, slamming the door behind me and locking it. I was convinced I was gonna bleed out and die, just sobbing in the front seat. I wasn’t sure I had enough gauze to cover the bite.

When I calmed down, slowly, I peeled my hand off the bite to assess the damage. I couldn’t get a good look through the holes in my jacket, so I stripped and grabbed the first aid kit to wipe away the blood. However, when I did, there was nothing there.

My brows furrowed and I gripped my throbbing shoulder to look down my back, but still nothing. I started to cry again, just confused.

I knew there had to have been a wound, but when I looked there was no gash, no hole, no marks, nada. Not even any green stuff like on my leg. It hurt so bad, but there was no visible sign of injury. As if it'd never even happened. Just a dull ache.

I started to cry more when I realized the only thing that hurt was my shoulder. I had been slashed on the back, but nothing there hurt.

Crying was the most confusing response, but also, what was I supposed to do? I had no one to ask, no one to tell me what was going on.

Crying was the most confusing response, but also, what was I supposed to do? I had no one to ask, no one to tell me what was going on.

I had briefly considered the possibility of hallucinating, but that was all real. I watched that thing’s teeth fully pierce my flesh and felt the blood spray on my face. There should've been an open wound, but it was just gone. I've racked my brain on how these things could be true, but ultimately, I have no idea.

Maybe I'm just going crazy.

Regardless, I chugged a bottle of water, hyped myself up, and cautiously ventured back out into the plaza. It was only 3 o’clock, so I had a lot of time left to kill. Since I was supposedly fine, I decided it’d be best to not waste it.

That was when I made my last and stupidest stop yet—the mall.

That damned mall.

I don't know why I thought that would be a good idea. I said I needed camping supplies, but fuck that, man. I could've found a different, smaller store in some bumfuck part of LA. It wasn’t even worth it.

The purifying straw was a little unnecessary, I'll admit, but despite all the previous misshapes, I thought I'd be able to get everything on my list. I peeked in through the big glass front doors of the mall and swallowed vomit at the scene. Dead bodies littered the floor, all the lights were out, though some flickered, and stores had been nearly destroyed in the panic to get out. A few zombies were floating about, so I rounded the building and found a fire exit at the back, using the crowbar to yank it open.

The store I ended up in was a clothing joint that looked mostly like it was for white millennial women, but they did have a teen’s section. After sorting through all the “girl power” shirts and horrid “live, laugh, love” sweaters, I found a couple of things that didn’t look like physical micro-aggressions.

There was a decent long sleeve striped in different shades of green and brown, a brown jacket, a green shirt with a cute graphic of a fish, and a pair of those long ass jean shorts I’d always wanted but my mom said make me look like a bum. Sorry mama, but I really love these things.

I shoved all these things in my bag best I could and slipped off my fucked up black hoodie, swapping it for the shirt and combo. I also took the liberty of grabbing socks and chonies, because even though this is a zombie apocalypse, I could still have clean boxers.

When I was done, I perused through the array of stores until I stopped at one that had a huge moose head mounted on the far back wall. I knew this one would likely have what I was looking for, so I peeked around. I ended up getting the can opener, a map of LA, and the bug spray. I couldn't find the straw, or any of that other shit, and I forgot that I hate the smell of jerky.

I got out of that store, and right across from it was a Polaroid. Now, did I need a Polaroid camera? No. No, I didn't. Did I think it'd be fun? Yes. Do I regret my decision? A little. Not because it was dangerous, but because it took up space in my bag. However, I did find the cutest little green Polaroid camera, AND all the film I could fit in my bag.

I thought it would be fun to add pictures to this journal thing, and I got really excited about it. I was about to take my first picture of this fucked up Claire’s I saw, but that was a mistake.

About eight zombies were playing lazy tug-of-war with some poor bastard—right next to a rack of sparkly unicorn handbags. A gruesome sight, but it was just a little funny. I snapped a pic to see if I'd still find it funny later.

I do.

That was a dumb choice though, because the noise from the camera alerted the walking cadavers, and my dumbass had to book it for that back door. I had the Jackson eight on my heels, and then maybe twelve of ‘em, and then God knows how many. It was a flood of zombies, and I was the idiot that decided to go fucking surfing.

I was tripping and scrambling, fumbling around to reach the store I’d originally ended up in as they grabbed at my bag and my legs and my ass. I was almost there when I got yanked back by a dead lady in a yellow dress.

I batted her back with my crowbar and slapped another away before Tokyo drifting out the back. My body slammed, trying to hold the door shut as they rattled against it before realizing that was dumb and ditching that to run for the car.

Those things started after me, pouring out of the fire escape and chasing me all the way to that blue Sedan. I dove for the wheel, shutting the door, and peeling out of the plaza, out of the town, and eventually out of the city entirely.

So, here’s the thing. I don’t know how to drive. Like, at all. I never learned, and I never really planned to, so, um…I fucked up that car. So bad.

While using the whole speedometer, I swerved and scraped so many signs, eventually crashing into a billboard. My head flew forward, whacking against the wheel, and I passed out.

When I came to, the sun was gone, and a small group of zombies were lingering around the wreck. Eight? Maybe nine? I don’t know. I was really out of it.

I had a lump on my forehead and I felt nauseous, so I just sat there and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I could be concussed, but I didn’t know what to do about it. Eventually, I just started crying again.

I really tried to keep it together and just keep moving, but I was so tired. I didn’t know where my mom was. I didn’t know where I was. I crashed a car. I have a weird bite on my leg. Everyone I know and love is probably dead. My sister. My friends. I just couldn’t take it anymore.

I cried for maybe an hour before choking back my tears and getting back in the game.

I took some pain meds, checked myself in the cracked mirror, and just sat in silence for a bit, staring into nothing.

...

It was maybe an hour before I picked up this book again. I felt the need to put this all on paper. If I can't yippity yap to anybody else, then the book’s gotta be it.

I'm not sure what to do now, but I'm thinking I'll eat something and make a plan when the sun rises. It's 2am right now, so I'll see you later. Night.

Day 3 of the apocalypse, March 9th, 2024. 10:40 pm.

Hi. It’s been a long and arduous day, but I’m finally able to rest and reflect. Right now, I’m curled up in a van, in the middle of the woods, thanking my lucky stars that I’m alive.

...

It was 5 in the morning when I decided to peel myself out of that Sedan. I felt bad for having crashed it, but I can’t change what happened. Grabbing anything that would fit in my bag, I carefully rolled out of the crunched car and checked around for zombies. When I saw none, I made my way up the highway on foot.

I wished I had music, but the only thing I used my phone for was to check the time. Otherwise, I kept it off.

I didn’t think it’d be any good, but it was worth keeping. Just in case.

Eventually, after maybe twenty minutes of walking, I came upon a car graveyard, likely created in the panic. There were maybe 200 vehicles, all scuffed and crunched, having crashed into the sides of the highway, and each other.

There were a couple zombies, but they were easy to avoid. I waded through the 1,000-car pile-up, climbing over hoods, through back seats, and under trucks. On the way through, I made sure to grab anything I thought I’d need. Canned food, water, a box of matches, and some lighters. Anything I didn’t feel like fat shit for taking away from dead people.

I managed to make it out on the other side, hopping over a trunk and landing with a grunt against the pavement. When I looked up, it was like God himself was blessing me on that day.

Sun rays bounced off the metal roof of a mostly intact, though substantially fucked up, big white van. It was one of those ones that schools use for carpooling when there's not enough students going on a trip to justify a full-sized bus. I think it’s literally called a mini-bus.

I approached the vehicle from the side, scrambling for my gun when I registered a noise from inside. I crept around the right, peeking into the backseat. Inside, a large zombie was rolling around and fumbling about, all stuck and stupid. I put away my gun and fished out my crowbar, steeling myself for what I had to do. I needed the car, but I couldn't take it with that thing in the backseat. I reeled back before jumping in.

The scuffle was messy, and I almost got bit again. I tried to whack the squishy — perspiring cadaver, missing at first and retreating out of the cramped space.

The corpse followed me as my boots hit the dirt and it swung, missing my body and receiving a swift thwhack to the skull.

This disoriented it, and I smacked it again, and again, and again, and again, until it was finally down. It twitched, and I raised my crowbar to hit it once more, but it didn’t move.

I let out a deep breath, feeling a weird sense of twisted hope. I was bitten by one of the little crab things and an OG zombie, and I don’t feel as brittle as that thing was. These infections don’t take long to develop, and it seems to leave the victims in a literal state of decay. I’m still standing, and it's been several days, so I think I’ll be fine.

I kept my weapon drawn and checked out the rest of the van, seeing a dead body propped up in the driver’s seat. A man, maybe 40 years old, with a trucker cap on and the bottom half of his jaw gone.

There was blood all along the front of him, the trail leading down to the jaw at his feet. I worked up a nerve and yanked the scruff of his flannel, poorly dragging him out the seat. He fell with a crunch, skull to the asphalt, and I used the crowbar to sweep out the jaw from the floor.

Hopping into the driver’s seat, I looked around for the keys, finding them still in the ignition. Slowly turning them, I held my breath in a hope that this thing still worked. I let out a whimper of relief when the van started. And that was lucky, because I could have sworn I saw that dead guy blink.

I drove up what I thought was I-5 for a while, recalling my initial plan before I ate shit on that billboard. I was on my way to a forest. I didn’t actually know where a forest was near here though. It wasn’t a solid plan, but I thought I’d just drive until I saw trees.

I had this van now, and it was pretty good on gas, so I wasn’t too worried, but I did have the gas cans just in case.

I drove in silence for maybe an hour before remembering those CDs I grabbed. I had a couple of good ones. Some oldies, some newbies, but the one I popped in was a Beatles album, Rubber Soul (Remastered 2009).

The drive was long, lasting a couple hours until I saw a big stretch of trees off to the left of me. There wasn’t actually a road from where I was to the trees, but I made my own. I drove over a fenced off area, overly confident that the tires could take it, and started navigating the behemoth through the brush.

After a bumpy ride of running over bushes and fallen trees, a covered clearing came into view where I felt safe enough to park the car. The thing could sit up to, like, 15 people, so I flattened eight of the seats in the back and used them as a makeshift mattress.

I was tired and just wanted to rest.

When everything was finally quiet for just a moment, I unwrapped my leg and cringed at the poorly kept wound. So much sticky pus coming out of icky green holes. I wanted to throw up. From my very limited medical knowledge, pus isn’t supposed to stay in a wound, I think, so I squeezed out most of it and rewrapped the bite. It didn’t hurt as much anymore, it was just sensitive and gross-looking.

My rations were cut in half from the crash, but I’d managed to grab enough for maybe three weeks. I didn’t even know I was hungry until I stuffed those peaches down my gob. I was starving and probably looked like a mess. I avoided any of the mirrors, not wanting to see how fucked up I must’ve been.

I don’t even remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, it was about 6 pm.

The clearing I parked in was promising, so with nothing else to do I got out the car, stretched, and began looking around. There was a stream nearby, a good amount of berries, other plants, and mushrooms. I thought I might as well pick some, wash them off, and try not to get dysentery or food poisoning.

I also explored inside the van, finding a duffel bag full of clothes and hygiene products, blankets, a pillow, a tarp, and food in the trunk. The people before me must’ve been prepared. Or they were just going camping.

I spruced up my little sleeping spot with the new stuff and lit a fire outside to heat up a can of corn. I kinda hate corn, but food is food, and I really don’t have the privilege of complaining like this. I haven’t seen another living person in two days, so I consider myself very lucky.

...

It’s 11 pm now, and I’m huddled under the blanket for warmth. I shut off the car to save gas, and now I’m using my flashlight to write this. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do tomorrow, but I’m gonna try and do something productive.

These blankets and pillows were an excellent find, so I’m going to try and not crash this car like I did the last one, because I’d hate to lose all this stuff. I may even brush my teeth. I’m living in the lap of luxury.

The woods are a little creepy, so I’m gonna go to bed and not think about it.

Goodnight.

Day 4 of the apocalypse, March 10th, 2024. 6:03 am.

Good morning! I woke up this morning with less of a crick in my neck than yesterday, probably because I slept in an intact car with a pillow. I’ve got Kesha playing because she was on one of the CDs, so life could be worse. I just brushed my teeth and put on deodorant, which felt great by the way.

That dead dude’s duffel bag had great stuff in it, and I’m trying not to feel bad for using it. I ate breakfast and changed my clothes so I didn’t have to trudge through the woods in a hoodie and sweatpants. I’m gonna do more exploring and maybe, like, I don’t know, make my van set-up more functional. We’ll see.

...

Something's wrong with me. Okay, just bear with me here. I know I’ve been alone and beat the fuck up for the past few days, so I could be going crazy, but just hear me out.

I did what I said I would, taking my gun and crowbar with me as I explored around the area. I had no clue where I was, but I was marking the trees as I went, so I wasn’t too worried about finding my way back.

I wanted meat bad, even though it’d be gross to kill and skin and bleed and cook my own shit, I was determined to figure it out.

I was walking through dense brush when I heard a rustling sound behind me in a bush. I barely remember moving. It was like I’d blinked and suddenly I was knelt on the ground with something twitching at the end of my crow bar. I stayed there for a moment, and when it stopped, I slowly lifted the bar to see a brown rabbit dangling from the end of it.

The hook was pierced directly through its skull, and I watched as its blood trickled out of its body and onto the ground.

I didn’t think I had the strength to completely skewer a bunny like that. I mean, sure, they’re small, but they’re fast and dense too. The puncture was too clean to have been done with just a crowbar. It’s not like the thing was sharp, and last I checked I wasn’t strong enough to do something so clean. I didn’t even break a sweat.

It felt wrong, made my gut churn. I didn’t like that I was able to do that. Something was happening to my body and I felt so powerless in the uncertainty.

I lost an arm wrestle to my little sister a couple of months ago. I should not be strong enough to completely spear a rabbit through the head with just a regular ass crowbar. I began to shake and twitch violently and I tried to stumble back to the van.

I had lost my balance because of it, and tripped over a log.

The front of my leg tore up, ripping my skin to where there was a flap hanging off. The blood started gushing immediately, and I dropped the crowbar to clutch my leg to my chest. I began to cry, and then started screaming when I saw my own flesh melding and pulling itself back together by the sinew. It stung and felt numb at the same time, but in less than a minute, my torn-up flesh was good as new and covered in blood.

“What the fuck!?”

I stood back up, wobbling like a toddler, and checked the log I had tripped on. A piece of my flesh was still stuck to it. Looking at things through tears as I picked up my crowbar and the rabbit, and stumbled the rest of the way back to the van.

I slumped in front of the doors and sobbed for a long while. I felt like I was gonna be sick. I kept checking my leg and looking at the rabbit as if they would change or go away, but they didn’t. I pulled it together eventually, cleaning off the residual blood from my leg and ripping my bar out of the rabbit carcass to treat it.

Now, I don’t know what the fuck happened, but I‘m pretty it was the same thing that happened with that zombie bite in the plaza. I could have sworn on my mama I had been bit—that it pierced my hoodie and skin, and that I was bleeding. When I went to take care of it then, it was gone too.

I brushed over it at the time, more worried about other things, but now I can’t really ignore it. I have to acknowledge how weird that is for my own sanity. I’ve never had a wound do that, just close up like it was never there. The crab bite didn’t do that, so why did everything else?

And when did I get so fast? I’m not supposed to be. In school, I hated P.E. with a burning passion, never played sports, never did any of that. I was much more into, like, video games, or art, or poetry. Bottom line is, I’m not supposed to be that strong. I just wish I knew what was going on, but for now I guess I’ll just keep on. Glad I acknowledged it though.

I turned on some music and began stripping the fur from the rabbit. I didn’t know what I was doing in the slightest, but I cut off the head and just started peeling. It was so fucking gross, and I was covered in blood, but I just wanted meat so bad, and I already killed it, so it felt disrespectful to waste it.

I took out the guts and washed off the dirt from the meat with a water bottle before stabbing a stick through it and putting it on a rotating cooking thing I made. I fashioned it out of sticks and vines above the fire, and that seemed to do the trick.

I felt so great this morning, but after all that, I just felt weird and nauseous. I cleaned up in the stream, not bothering to change, and just sat in the door to the van while waiting for the rabbit to cook. I wished I had some salt, or pepper, but it wasn't bad.

That’s a lie.

It sucked.

I had skinned it wrong and missed some innards, but it was meat. I didn’t want to waste any part of it, so I ate what I could stomach and put the rest in an empty can of corn to dry, I guess. I figured I could do something with the bones.

...

I genuinely feel like I'm going crazy. I don’t think I need to make this clear, but regular people aren’t able to skewer rabbit skulls in one hit, nor can their skin REBUILD ITSELF. Something is wrong, but I just don't know what.

I know I keep coming back to this, but if you were a weak little boy, and suddenly you could move in the blink of an eye, peirce bone with a crow bar, and your skin could regenerate like a lizard, you’d be like “hey, what the fuck?” too.

I wish I knew what was wrong. Maybe I am turning into a zombie.

Day 13 of the apocalypse, March 19th, 2024. 1:03 am.

Hi. So, I’m not a zombie, and I don’t think I’m becoming one. It’s been nine days since I last wrote, so my bad, but I’ve just been so preoccupied with other things.

The only reason I’m writing now is because I just woke up and saw that today was my birthday. I’m now 16 years old. I had this plan before everything to have a party with me and my friends. It was gonna be the first birthday party I had in years, and my mama had helped plan it.

God, I miss my mom so much. She would be waking me up in a couple hours and barging up in my room, all loud and excited.

“Happy birthday, baby!!!”

She’d have breakfast for me, and my sister would be over and calling me unc. God, where is my little sister? Is she safe? Did she get on a helicopter? I hope so. I really fucking hope so.

My sister, Ayisha, is such a pain in the ass, but I love her. She stayed with our dad mostly because that’s where all her stuff was, and honestly, I don’t think she liked us all that much. I mean, I just think we fucked her up too much.

When we were younger, she didn’t talk a lot, but she would talk to me. I would talk for her and try to get her needs met. I didn’t know that was bad for her at the time. I just thought I was being a good big sister and helping her.

Our parents are divorced, and were dysfunctional for years. Neither of them could take care of us consistently, so I took care of us.

I helped Isha with her homework the best I could, I cooked her food, I fought with our dad for her, and I took the blame for things that weren't my fault to protect her. I wasn’t my dad’s favorite by any means, but I didn’t care as long as my Ayisha was okay.

She would've reluctantly hugged me today. She would've made some joke about me being old, I would have called her a baby, and we’d probably watch a YouTube video and laugh for hours. I miss my family.

My mom probably would have found some time in the day to lecture me on growing up and all the responsibilities I’d have as I grew and how as a man I’d need to step up around the house. I really hated when she’d do that, but I’m missing it now. I’d take a lecture from my mom any day over this. I really hope she’s safe.

I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.

Oh god, I may never see my mom or my family or anyone I’ve ever known ever again. Oh god. Oh fuck. Where is my mama? Where is my sister? Where are they? Fuck!

I miss my friends.

My best friend, Elisha, he’s probably fucking dead. He was so good. He was in the running to be valedictorian. He’ll never get to do that now. I don’t even know if he’s still alive. Probably not. He was like me in that he was never very athletic. He’d know what to do though. He was smart. He’d know how to get us out of here.

I miss my life.

This isn’t fair.

My weird abilities have become more apparent in the last week and a half though. I’m really fast in twitchy bursts, wounds heal like they never existed, and I now have sharp teeth and glowing yellow eyes.

Yeah, probably didn’t see that last part coming, huh?

I was dropping some sticks next to my fire pit when I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My eyes were a bright yellow and flashed like a cat, and my teeth were sharp like a vampire. I had some mouth pain a couple nights before, but I thought that was just from having bit something hard. Turns out, I’m a vampire now, and that’s pretty cool.

I don’t know for sure, but I think it has something to do with that crab bite. It’s gone, by the way. The wound healed a couple days ago after shooting out pus like a gun and then resealing itself, the green bits shriveling and falling off into the dirt.

Also, when I say I'm “really fast in twitchy bursts”, that means I'm basically teleporting. Last week I was running after a deer to kill, and I moved so fast that I just kinda appeared in front of it.

That poor thing was so scared, and so was I. I knocked its head off with the crowbar and it went flying into a nearby tree. I might be a bit manic, because I started apologizing and sobbing and even tried to put the head back on. When I realized what I was doing, I locked in and dragged it back to the van.

Things have been as normal as they can be though. Nothing too crazy or adventurous since we last spoke. The only demons I’ve encountered have been the ones in my own mind and my horribly clumsy attempts at being a person. Other than that, all smooth sailing.

Hold on.

Who the fuck is that?

Day 14 of the apocalypse, March 20th, 2024. 7:23 am.

Oh my fucking god.

...

Last night, when I was writing in this book, I had this awful feeling of being watched. I’d felt the feeling before out here, and it was usually some kind of deer or owl, but when I looked up, I stopped. I saw a man outside.

He was tucked behind a tree, dressed in a clean black suit, and leaning out to stare at me. He didn’t move. We just looked at each other for what felt like hours.

I couldn’t see all of his face, but my stomach dropped all the way when I saw the crinkling lines of his cheeks and eyes. He was smiling. At me.

He didn’t move a single inch. Not a muscle. It was like I was staring at a picture, or a cardboard cutout. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing. He never blinked.

Slowly, I reached for my gun. I looked away for not more than a second, but when I looked back, he was gone. Completely gone.

Nothing was disturbed where he stood. No leaves or bushes rustled. Not even the bugs moved. It was like he’d never even been there to begin with.

I raised my gun and whipped my head around, expecting to see him at any turn or standing in front of the car, but no. He was nowhere.

I started to hyperventilate a little, scrunching up in a corner with my gun and waiting until I saw him again.

My eyes played a lot of tricks on me, but I never saw him again that night. I don’t remember falling asleep; I just remember waking up. I still had my gun with me, and I looked around in the early morning light. At first glance, I didn’t see anything.

Just trees, trees, bushes, and more trees. I convinced myself that I was dreaming that night and worked up the nerve to get ready for the day. I brushed my teeth, put on deodorant, and made myself food. I was thinking of a plan when I soon had it.

I was gonna kill the two things staring at me from the trees.

I saw them mid-bite. There were two now, completely identical, and staring at me with the exact same smiles that seemed to widen by the minute.

I could get a better look during the day. They were pasty white and sweaty, with very thin black hair and crisp suits. Completely smooth, aside from the wrinkles from the smiles that were too big to look comfortable. They vaguely resembled OGs, but stood much straighter.

I reached for my gun, not looking away that time, and paused as the one on the left slowly held out a piece of dirty paper from behind the tree. Very long fingers.

“Friend?”

I stared at it as my heart picked up. I don't fully understand why, but my body completely rejected the very existence of those things.

“No.” I choked, shaking my head. “No friend.”

There was a long pause. They didn’t move, faces didn't shift, but they seemed more strained than before. The other spoke in a voice I can't remember. Something that, in the moment, my entire being rejected to register.

I understood, but not the words. The intent.

“Friend?”

“No!” I shrieked and shot.

I hit the one on the right in the chest, and it fell back with a thud that sounded too light for a human with flesh and bone. Like an empty box. The one on the left didn’t even flinch. The only change was in his expression. His eyebrows started to look angry, and I shot him square between them.

He fell back with the same sound.

After a second, I got up to check if they were really dead, and walked through the brush towards the stiff bodies. Their expressions were the same, and their eyes were open, but they still didn’t move. I shot them both again. No movement.

There were very official looking government badges clipped to the breasts pockets of their suits. I was confused. I didn't, and still don't feel guilt for shooting them. I feel like that's wrong.

They did, in a way, look human. They just didn't act like it. I felt like I should've felt some sort of complicated emotion about killing another person, but it just didn't feel like killing a person. A person responds. A person bleeds.

That’s when I decided to get the fuck up out of there. I didn't understand what they were, but they knew where I was, and I was not okay with that. I quickly hopped in the van, turned that bitch on, and peeled the fuck out of there.

Fuck that.

...

I’m okay now. Safe, in my car, parked on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

I don’t know where I’m gonna go, I don’t know where I’ve been, and I don’t know where I am. It’s 8:13 am now, so I’m gonna get rolling. I don’t know what those things were, but I’m not sure they were human.

I’m actually very sure they were not.

Day 27 of the apocalypse, April 1st, 2024. 6:53 pm.

Morning. My leg is gone.

I'm not sure what to do now. I was fighting a zombie for my backpack when another came out of nowhere and tore my right leg off. I'm bleeding out in my car. I don't think I'm gonna make it. And given the day, you may think this is an April fools bit, and it is.

My leg is fine, you're just stupid. There's been no sign of those weird “friend” things from last month, so I think I’m good. Lemme give you a rough update of my whereabouts.

...

I started on the open road like I said I would, driving past the occasional wreck, dead body, and tiny zombie party. I stopped a couple times that day, the first being at this gas station.

It was beat-up and looked abandoned, so perfect for what I needed. The place looked empty, but I wasn't about to go anywhere naked, so I grabbed my crowbar.

Pushing open the door, I glanced around to see a lone zombie walking back and forth behind the counter. It didn't notice me, so I wasn't too worried, but I made an effort not to be too noisy. The power was out, and a few of the shelves had been knocked over, but everything else was intact.

I stuffed a bunch of beef jerky and water bottles in my bag. I usually hate the smell of jerky, but my mouth was watering just thinking about it. I also scored energy drinks and a couple bags of chips. Things would go faster if I could get to the bags behind the counter, so I pulled up my big boy pants and smacked my crowbar over the head of that zombie.

After it went down I hopped over the counter, grabbing all the plastic bags. It was a great haul, and I even got five full gas canisters for the van. I hauled them into the trunk and set out on the road again.

I drove for what I think was around 8 hours, occasionally stopping to raid gas stations or just take a breather. The music helped my dwindling sanity, but not my focus because I, somehow, ended up in Arizona.

Having never been outside of California, being two whole states away came as a shock. Must've been driving for a long time.

Pulling the car into a grocery store parking lot, I got out to look around. The place was abandoned except for cars.

A couple nearby signs read “Tucson”, so I assumed that’s where I was. The sun was nearly set, so I decided it'd be best to eat and then got my well deserved shut-eye.

I'd explore the next day.

Around 6 am I set foot inside the grocery store and scoped things out. There was a bakery section with pretty moldy cakes perched on display stands. At that point, my birthday had been only a couple days prior, so I thought it fitting to take one that didn't look too bad.

Zombies bumbled about as they normally did, but by that point avoiding them was easy. I got junk food, ate cake, and got out.

Back at the car, the new shit got stuffed in the trunk before I drove around the city. It was honestly pretty nice, save for the dead bodies on the ground and walking around.

I had squatted in a few houses, never staying long. In one instance, I opened the door to a house and was shot by the people inside. They only hit my arm, and I got out of there before they could do any real damage.

I’m okay. My arm healed with that wacky new super healing and the bullet fell out. It's now kept in a jar on my dash as a souvenir.

Not trying to talk to those people might have been a mistake, but also, I really didn't want to. Though, they were the first people I'd seen in a while, besides those freaks from the forest. What would've happened if I didn't run?

As I drove for probably, like, a couple more hours, I came upon an interesting sight. The Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix Arizona.

It's a big, oddly shaped building that looks like a collection of rectangles, but also like, fancy? There was a big neon sign at the front that said MIM, and I only found out what that meant when I went inside.

Weird building, man. Like, very cool, stole a guitar, but weird.

There was a guitar shaped like a triangle, and one shaped like a little devil man with a face. I took a normal acoustic one because the others were too scary.

That museum displayed those instruments in a very scary way. The trumpets looked like they were coming at me and trying to eat me.

Like, just big, minimalist, empty rooms with a bunch of weird looking instruments on display. It looked like something out of a horror novel, like I don't know how to explain how unsettling it was to me.

I left after a bit of looking around, being more unsettled at the lack of zombies than anything. There was just nothing. It was like this museum was truly suspended in time, and I disrupted it.

...

I bounced around after that, soon leaving Arizona, having not found anything to really capture my prolonged interest. Going back the way I came, I wound up in Nevada. I must've driven through it to get to Arizona in the first place, but reading road signs wasn't a thing I did at the time.

...

I know now that's not very smart, but to be completely honest, I really didn't give a fuck. I feel this strange sense of floating through life when I'm not writing. Pure disassociation. I don't care where I'm going, only if it has food or a bed.

I’m still in Nevada, just parked in the parking lot of a Vegas hotel.

It's about 7pm, and the sun is setting, so I'm thinking of going inside sooner rather than later. As comfy as the back seat of this van is, I want an actual mattress.

Day 28 of the apocalypse, April 2nd, 2024. 8:05 pm.

I'm not in Vegas anymore, but because I don't believe that what happens in Vegas has to stay in Vegas, I'll talk about it.

...

The hotel from last night was okay. The rooms, which were left wide open and abandoned, were full of items I could take. Clothes, food, a charger, and like in any zombie apocalypse video game, a new gun and ammo in a drawer.

This was pretty fucking awesome given that guns and ammo didn't just fall from the sky. I took it, duh, because why wouldn't I want to have an extra blick? Do I look dumb? No, I don't. Don't answer that question.

The rooms, for the most part, were clear of living or dead or undead life forms. All that was visible was a zombie in the hallway on the top floor, but it was alone and easy to kill.

It was bumbling against a door at the far right of the hallway, scratching at it, so I gripped my crowbar and smacked it across the front of its face. It squelched to the floor, and I gave an arrogant scoff of pride.

I've gotten much stronger.

Then I paused. Why would a zombie be trying to get in that room? I jiggled the handle, finding it locked. I then put my ear to the door and when nothing happened, I knocked. Still nothing. I knocked again, and still there was no sound. With damming curiosity, I turned, put my foot to the door, and stomped, kicking it open.

Inside was something I'm struggling to forget. On the bed was a dead man, not a zombie, just a regular dead guy with a gun next to him and dried blood pooled around his head, seeping into the sheets. His skin was a sickly green, his face was bloated, and a few flies landed on his open eyes. He looked like he had been dead for maybe a week.

I rounded the bed to grab it when I found out why that guy had killed himself. On the ground, face down, was the even more decomposed body of a little girl. Her gender was only recognizable because of her heavily stained pink dress and dirty socks with lacy frills lining the top.

She was basically mush though. More green than the man, bald, and missing chunks of flesh. She had a bullet through her head too, and that's when I put it together. The kid must've been bit, turned, and was given mercy by her dad.

He probably couldn't take it, so he shot himself too. I felt like I was gonna throw up.

Not from the smell, though that could have played a part. It was something that made me feel like my gut was gonna lurch out of my mouth. The silence felt thick. It felt wrong to take the gun now, but they had no use for it, and I did. I don't remember when I started crying, but when I caught myself, I didn't stop.

They were alone. They might not have had anyone else. This was the end for them, alone in a hotel with a terrible sacrifice. I couldn't look away, because if I did, I worried they'd have no one to mourn them.

I didn't know them, obviously, but the dad did something very difficult and just couldn't live with himself. They deserved at least one person to stay and bear witness. One person to acknowledge the act of heroism and mercy. I would.

An hour passed before I left, closing the door softly as if not to wake them, and I left. I was done exploring after that.

An hour passed before I left, closing the door softly as if not to wake them, and I left. I was done exploring after that.

The room was nice. There were big windows, a big bed, and a big TV. The power was out, so the TV didn't work, but it was still nice to look at. It reminded me of when my mom would take my sister and I to Disney Land and we'd sit on the bed and watch whatever janky channel was on.

I swallowed thickly and sat on the bed with my head in my hands.

The nausea was getting worse the longer I was conscious. My bag hit the floor with a sad thump and stared at the wall for a long time. I don't even remember falling asleep.

The sun peeled my eyes open the next morning. I glared at the ceiling, praying I'd fall back asleep, but I didn't. Despite my mental discomfort, that mattress did wonders for my back, so I had to take it. It's not like anyone was gonna miss it.

The mattress made it down several flights of stairs, though I tried not to drag it too much on the concrete of the parking lot. I shoved it in the trunk where it didn't fit, so it curved like a taco, but that was fine.

Back inside, I took a look around the big ass kitchen. I fucked up a few undead chefs before shoving canned and bagged goods into my backpack. When I was ready, I set out on the road again. I needed to get out of there.

...

24 hours of driving crawled by with random CDs and my own thoughts doing little to keep me entertained. I talked to myself, sang in funny voices, made fart noises, even pretended to be a criminal on the run. Shit was fucking exhausting. Open, empty stretches of highway with nothing visually interesting, country albums on loop, and the stinky iron smell of blood from the previous owner.

When that barren desert landscape turned into a calming ocean scene, that weight of boredom lifted for a glorious moment. I was on the coast somewhere, driving on a highway I had no clue how to get off of. At some point, the driving stopped and sleep pulled me down like an evil temptress.

The dim light of the setting sun and the low strum of the guitar worked in tandem to make sleep seem more enticing than food.

A deep sigh escaped my lungs as I deflated into the seat and napped for around two hours. Eventually my mind was too active for rest, so I turned the car back on and kept moving.

Momentary peace shifted when that gorgeous coast line turned into thick, dense forest. Forests don't have a great track record in my apocalypse, so my eyes would dart from tree to tree, playing tricks on me. It got worse when it started raining. I turned up the music to drown out my fear.

After a few more hours, I finally parked for the night, which didn’t feel very safe, but it also meant I was hidden. Kinda. I was in Forks, Washington, according to a sign on the way. No fuckin’ clue how I ended up here, but that was par for the course.

Turning off the van, I shacked up in the back in my new cannoli of a bed, took out the journal, and now we’re here.

...

Given the very apparent fact that I’m in a zombie apocalypse, I would’ve thought there’d be more interesting things to do. I mean, sure — scary things, dead people, weird powers, zombies. All those things are interesting, but in between all of that is just a shit ton of nothing.

Back in the other woods, I didn’t write for maybe a week because of how uninteresting the days were. I would get up, eat food, put on deodorant, maybe wash off in the stream, hunt, cry, sleep, repeat. Nothing new or adventurous.

I guess there have been interesting things since I left the woods, but it's mostly driving. I hope something cool happens soon. I just hope the next most interesting thing to happen to me isn’t a threat on my life.

Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

Still day 28 of the apocalypse, April 2rd, 2024. 11:02 pm.

If I ever say I’m bored again, I want you to shoot me in the fucking face. This one's gonna be long.

...

While writing about three or four hours ago, whining and moaning about how boring everything was, there was a flash of light in the corner of my eye. Whipping my gaze up, I saw a group of masked individuals pointing flashlights at my van. They froze when they saw me staring back.

I fumbled with my gun as I scrambled to hit the deck.

There had been no sign of another living human in almost a month (except for those people who shot me), and suddenly six of them were staring at my car.

A knock on the window yanked me from my panicked thoughts, and I raised my gun to the glass, brandishing it to show I was armed.

A muffled “Whoa!” from the dude who knocked emboldened me to raise my head and take a peak.

“Chill out, man! It’s all good!”

The voice was light. As if he were attempting to calm a spooked animal. I must've looked rough.

I swallowed, my eyes darting around the faceless figures. Sitting up straight and puffing out my chest, I said;

“Who are you?” My voice cracked at the end like a bitch.

The man lifted a hand toward his face, keeping the other up as he lowered his mask and lifted his goggles.

He was Black with a grown out goatee and downturned eyes. Heavy bags indicated a lack of sleep. His hand went back up into the air before giving a hesitant smile.

“We don't want no trouble,” he called. “Just saw a van. Didn't know someone was inside.”

I kicked open the door, aiming the gun at his head. “That didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

“Aaron,” he called back. “My name is Aaron Prince. I promise, we mean you no harm. Please, just put down the gun.”

I scanned the group. They all had guns—shotguns mostly—but they didn’t look hostile towards me, just nervous. Slowly, I lowered my piece.

Aaron gave a huff before letting his hands drop. “Thank you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you on your own out here?”

I didn't want to answer that.

“Okay,” he nodded. “That's your business. I hear you.”

I glared at him before speaking. “You a pervert?”

He scoffed. “Hell nah.”

“That’s some shit a pervert would say.”

That elicited a choked laugh from a member of the group, which resulted in a blow to the back of the head from another.

Aaron let out a breath. “I’m not a pervert, man. Honest. We just wanted to check on you. You got a name?”

“Kamari.”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

“He's asking ‘cause you sound twelve.”

I made a face at the new guy butting into the conversation. I felt a familiar insecurity crawl up my insides that was both uncomfortable and grounding at the same time.

“Fuck you, man. I've got a testosterone deficiency.”

“Lay off,” Aaron put his arm out and the dude backed up. “If you don't wanna say, that's fine. We really are just trying to help. If you don't want none, that's cool. Just don't feel right leaving someone alone out here.”

“We're from a fort up the way,” another, a girl, offered. “Just making our rounds. You can join us if you want.”

“Fort?” I scoffed. “Y'all got a fort?”

“Yeah,” Aaron nodded. “It's got a decent population too. Good living conditions, safe, free food.”

“Shit,” I shook my head. “Either you're lying or you live in heaven.”

“I ain't lying. Honest.” He chuckled, seeming proud. “We've got plenty room if you're interested.”

I thought about it. New people I didn't know from dirt, wearing masks, talking about some fort up the way. Like dangling candy in front of a baby to lure them into a big white van that says “Free Hugs” on the side.

They seemed chill though.

“Okay, yeah,” I shrugged. “Why the fuck not? I'm not doing anything important. But if y'all are tryna pull some bullshit on me, I'll kill you.”

“Understood,” Aaron smiled. “You can follow us. It's about half an hour from here,” He gestured down the road.

“Okay,” I glanced that way. “Sounds good.”

Closing the door, I crawled up to the front of the car and turned it back on. My foot steadied on the gas before Aaron did some kind of swirly hand gesture. The group moved in response, starting back the way they came with me rolling behind them.

Eventually, we arrived in front of a sizable wood and metal wall with two armed guards at the front who waved at the group. Behind the guards were large gates that seemed to be made out of various pieces of scrap metal, and above them was an old sign that said “Camp Junction”.

Whatever I was expecting did not match up with what I saw. Aaron wasn't kidding when he said they had a “decent population”.

There were people. More than I had seen in months—probably 40 or 50.

Defense towers stood at each corner of the site with solar panels on the roofs, and old log cabins lined the far back. There were RVs, Campervans, renovated shipping containers, and just really shitty big boxes made out of that same dinghy metal that made up almost everything. I was dumbfounded.

Aaron held up a hand, stopping the group, and I stopped the car. I rolled down my window and leaned out, gesturing about.

“What the fuck is all this?!” I called.

“Fort Forks,” scowled the asshole from before. “Welcome.”

I didn’t like his tone and sneered.

Aaron placed a hand on his shoulder. “Knock it off. Mali,” he called to another, “Get everyone back to the cabin. I’ll take it from here.”

“Got it,” the other guy responded, who I assumed was Mali, before he started towards the cabins. The other four follow, with the jerk lingering behind.

I shrank back in my seat, surveying all the buildings and people and lights. It was the most normal thing I’d seen in nearly a month. It wasn't huge, but it was dense.

Aaron stepped up to my window, hands on his hips like Obama.

“I’ma take you to a place where you can park, and then you're gonna get a check-up with a doctor. Nothing invasive, just questions about your health and a temperature thing.”

“Doctor? Y’all got doctors too?”

“Yep,” he chuckled. “Some of the best. Veterinarians, mostly, but they’re just as good.”

“What if I don't want a check-up?”

“It's standard procedure for anyone new. I promise it won't be anything uncomfortable. We just gotta make sure you're good.”

That didn't answer my question, but at the same time it did. He wasn't negotiating or threatening. He was just telling me about it.

“Huh. Fine.”

Aaron led me to a large patch of dirt where several other cars sat parked. He pointed me to an empty spot, and I rolled in before turning off the engine. I shoved the keys in my pocket, grabbed my bag, and hopped out, my boots thudding against the gravel. I made sure the door was locked before turning towards him.

“Cool. Let's go.”

I fell in step beside him, watching my surroundings. It’s a weird feeling to see movement and not be in danger. To see people living and functioning with their own things to do.

“Where you comin’ from?” Aaron broke me out of my thoughts.

“LA,” I scratched my head.

“California?”

“Nah, Zimbabwe.”

“Got it,” He chuckled. “Got any family we could get you to?”

“Nah. I don't think so.”

“Alright,” He sighed. “In that case, you can stay here. We’ve got enough beds to go around. Hope you don’t mind roommates.”

“That’s fine.”

The medical “building” was just as rickety as everything else in that place. It looked like it was built from random sheet metal and Home Depot plywood. Not the sturdiest thing, but it was whatever. I didn't really care about that.

There was a man in dirty scrubs sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette. He regarded Aaron with a nod.

“Hey, Henry,” Aaron greeted. “Got a kid who needs a check-up.”

“I’m on break,” replied Henry. “But Viv’s in there. She can take ‘em.”

“That woman still workin’?” Arron rolled his eyes. “Alright. Thanks, man.”

My eyes strained under the fluorescent lights as we stepped inside. I hadn't seen artificial light in a hot minute, so it took a sec for my brain to catch up. I felt like a rat pulled from a gutter in this place. Nurses and doctors bustled about in the front room, and there was so much chatter. It was overstimulating.

“Viv,” Aaron called to a woman who was talking with a lady behind the front desk, if you could call it that. It was more of a glorified fold out table.

The woman he was calling for popped her head up before excusing herself and approaching us. She was a dark-skinned woman with glasses and an old silk press. She looked maybe in her early 40s.

“Hey,” she greeted, smoothing out her coat and scrubs. “What’s going on? Who’s this?” She pointed to me.

“Kamari,” Aaron addressed me, “this is Doctor Vivian Prince. Viv, this is Kamari. Runner-1 and I found him on our way back.”

“Huh,” Doctor Prince nodded, smiling warmly at me. “Kamari. Nice to meet you. He need a check-up?” She glanced at Aaron.

“Mhm,” he nodded. “Can you take him now, or are you busy?”

“No, it’s good. Shouldn't be too long. That alright with you, kid?”

I stuttered as she addressed me. “Uh, yeah. That's fine.”

“Okay,” Aaron sighed wearily. “And then we need to talk about your overtime.” He pointed at the woman.

Doctor Prince rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Okay, commander,” she chuckled. “C’mon, kid. Just back here.”

I followed her to a room at the right end of the hall. She opened the door and flicked on a light, revealing a space that looked surprisingly like a doctor's office, or I guess, more like the nurse's office at a summer camp. There was a bed, cabinets, a sink, one of those heart monitor thingies, and a little rolly chair.

Doctor Prince gestured to the bed and sat down on the chair before picking up a clipboard from the side table.

“Alright,” she sighed. “These are just baseline questions, so don’t feel like you’re being interrogated. ‘Kay?”

I nodded, setting my bag down beside me.

“Good. So, during the disaster, did you sustain any debilitating injuries?”

“No,” I lied.

“No?” Her eyebrows rose. “That's rare. You lucky then.”

She then looked down at her clipboard, jotting something down before looking back up at me.

“No cuts or big bruises or bites?”

I hesitated.

“No.”

She stared at me for a second before squinting.

“You always have yellow eyes?”

My stomach dropped and I felt my heart rate pick up. My face probably did something too, because I saw the way she tilted her head in reaction.

I felt scrutinized and examined like a specimen, or like a potential corpse. I started feeling really stupid for following those people.

“Uh…it's um, a condition.”

“Hm,” she seemed to find that amusing. “What condition?”

“Don't remember the name.”

“Wouldn't happen to have anything to do with Type-X Hecaton, would it?”

“What?”

Doctor Prince smiled and reached over to the small table by the bed. She picked up a stack of papers and began sorting through it before showing me a picture of that big spider that bit me at the beginning of all this. It wasn't the exact one, but they looked very similar.

She handed it to me.

“These are the things turning people into those big white things that, in turn, make people into zombies. Did you encounter one?”

I clammed up and inched away, glancing not so sneakily at the door behind her.

“If you were bit,” she interrupted my slow escape attempt, “can you tell me how long it had its teeth in you?”

I just stared at her, giving a weird look.

“Hey,” she set her clipboard down, “I know this is all very uncomfortable and scary. You probably haven't met many kind people out here, so I get your skittishness. I really do. But I promise you, I am just trying to help. I will not hurt you.”

Still staring.

“How long were you bit for?”

Fine. I’ll answer.

“I don’t know. Like, 4 seconds?”

The doctor nodded. “Got it,” she exhaled. “How long ago was this?”

“It was in March, so about two or three weeks?”

“The start of the outbreak. Okay. Are you experiencing any weird symptoms?” She picked the clipboard back up. “Increased strength? Wounds healing faster? New bones? Lower body temp?”

I blinked. “The– yeah. The first three, yes.”

“And your body temp is normal?”

“Yeah. I mean, I think so.”

“You don't feel colder?”

“No?”

She wrote that down. “Anything else you've got going on?”

“No,” I lied.

She lifted a brow. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You said you were bitten for 4 seconds, right?”

“Mhm.”

She looked at me before setting the clipboard down and standing. “Okay,” she shrugged, “then that's all I need to know. I'll get you back to Aaron so he can get you situated.”

That was it. I thought she had clocked me for sure, but she just brushed it off. I got up to follow her back out into the waiting area where Aaron sat. He stood when he saw us.

“Hey, how'd it go?”

“We've got a rank 3-4 bitten here,” she gestured to me.

I made a face. “A what?”

Aaron looked at me before giving a smile. “Means you were bitten, but not infected. The rank is how we categorize the uh, severity, of the side effects.”

I blinked. I've been doing a lot of that. My eyes are very hydrated by this point.

“Is this, like, a normal thing for y'all?”

“It's not,” he chuckled. “Pretty rare actually. But not anything to worry about. When was he bit?” He asked the doctor.

“In March.”

“Okay, yeah, you're perfectly fine, kid. If you didn't already turn into a white sweaty freak, then you won't. No worries.”

“...Kay…?”

“This is all very weird, trust me, I know, but you're perfectly fine. You still down to stay?”

“I mean, I guess.”

“Good. Come with me, then. I've got the perfect place for you.”

Aaron walked me across camp to one of the cabins. All of these cabins were nice and decorated in some way, and this one had towels hanging off the railing and a laundry line stretched from the overhang to a nearby tree. There were toys on the porch and a ramp on the steps with a motorcycle parked on the side of the building.

Three people stood on the porch, talking. They all looked to be around my age. One was a tall white dude with long curly black hair cut into an ugly mullet, another was a pretty black girl with a blonde bob sitting in a wheel chair, and the last was a black guy with a buzz cut and a killer jaw line, I mean my god. When they spotted us, the black guy stepped off the porch.

“Hey, it's you,” he commented, smiling at me. “Didn't think you'd stay. Kamari, right?”

“Yeah? Who are you?”

“I’m Malik,” he chuckled. “I was in the group that found you.”

Getting a closer look at him, I could see that his eyes were red, and his teeth were sharp like mine.

“Oh,” I glanced behind him. “Okay.”

“Y'all still have that spare room, right Mal?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah, is he staying here?”

“Mhm. Rank 3-4, according to your aunt.”

Malik snorted. “Woah. That's nice,” he smiled at me. “Well, welcome, man. That all the stuff you got, or is there more in your car?” He gestured to my bag.

“Just this.”

“Cool, then c’mon inside. I'll show you your room, and then you're free to do whatever for now.”

We passed the other two on our way inside. The girl gave me a polite smile, and the white dude had a stank ass face on. I gave it right back before crossing through the door.

The inside was nice. Genuinely, it was. But it was just a fucking mess. There were soda cans and chip bags on the open concept kitchen’s counters and the island, dirty clothes on the floor and table, muddy foot prints tracking to the living room, baby toys sprawled everywhere, and general disarray. It smelled like wood, air freshener, and burnt popcorn.

In front of the kitchen was the living room, where two others sat on a green plaid couch, and a baby played on the one clean part of the floor in front of a TV.

Aaron made a sound at the sight.

“Malik, this place is fucking disgusting, man.”

“It's not that bad,” he huffed, coming in after us.

“Not that bad? It's a fuckin' pigsty. Y'all got a baby in here. If you’re gonna be up, you can clean this shit up. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” Malik grumbled, moving to start on the counters.

The two on the couch were staring at me before the guy tapped the girl and pointed at me.

“You're the dude from our run,” he said with a light Indian accent.

“Uh, yeah,” I nodded.

“Ohhhh,” said the girl in recognition. “That makes more sense. Sorry about the mess.”

Before I could respond, the dude who gave me the stank ass face pushed passed and scooped up the baby from the floor. He took her down the hall while the other girl came inside.

“Sorry about him,” she sighed. “He's…well, he's not very friendly when you first meet him.”

I just nodded, deciding not to be a dick.

“I'm Sadie,” she finally said. “That was Ezra, the baby is Lina, and on the couch that's Kiaan and Anaya,” she pointed to them, who waved at me. “I can show you your room while Malik picks up. I promise it's cleaner than the rest of this place.”

I followed her down the hall to the last door on the left. She opened it to reveal a genuinely decent looking space. It had a single bed made up with red, plaid bedding, a night stand, an unplugged lamp, a book shelf, a desk, and a chair for said desk.

“It's a little bare bones,” she commented. “But you can get more things to decorate with at the market.”

“Market?”

“Yeah, people go on runs and trade the stuff they find there. It's cool.”

I nodded before setting my bag down on the bed. “Kay. Thanks.”

“No problem. If no one told you, lights-out is at 12, and we typically wake up around 6. We'll try not to wake you though. Get some rest.”

With that, she left, and I was alone again. I could hear the group rustling around in the front, cleaning and talking about the day while music played. I think one of the songs was Heavy Metal Lover by Lady Gaga. If I’m gonna be axe murdered tonight, at least it’ll be to fire music.

My name was brought up more than necessary, and I heard sounds of shock when Malik mentioned my “rank”. Still don’t fully understand what that means. I think it’s a little corny, if I’m being honest.

...

This bed is comfy. Not as comfy as the mattress I have in my car, but I bet I can do something about that. I plugged in the lamp, which baffled me like a caveman with fire. I unplugged and then plugged it back in a few times just to mess with it a bit.

This place is weird. Weird because it's so normal. There's just people, like, around, and they aren't immediately hostile with me. I feel like an animal that just got out the woods. Probably because I kinda am.

I've been all over the place and seen some crazy shit, but this one has to be the fucking craziest. Lights, functioning systems, people, doctors. Of course, it's not entirely organized, but for being just a month into this thing, it is impressive.

For the first time in a while, I'm excited for tomorrow.