A young boy walks down an empty road. The road is cracked, bleeding asphalt; and is stained with wrecked cars and blood. The boy didn't notice. He had bigger things to worry about.

He needs to get to the next city. He knows a friend there that will help him and his dad. His dad thought that they could handle the problem and hide out at home. But he was wrong. More and more keep trying to break in, and soon, their entire house will be overrun by those monsters. He had to go.

He enters the city limits when he sees the first one.

The undead asshole is missing an arm at the elbow. From the side, the boy can almost fool himself into believing it's just an amputee guy. But when it shuffles to face him, the other half of it's face is hideous. An eye has been rotted out, and the skin is a lifeless mottled grey. It is a messy eater, because the boy can see dried blood around its mouth, and it drools non-stop a nasty red mix of blood and saliva.

The young boy ignores his repulsion, walks up to it, pulls out a gun, and shoots it down. He applauds himself for being such a fucking badass and moves on.

He knows the gun was for his protection, but the boy doesn't like using it. Not that he feels sorry for killing off the zombies, but the gun just… doesn't feel like the right weapon for him.

Walking down the street, the boy notices that all the zombies are killed off already. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows who did it.

One dead guy lying on the sidewalk used to be a construction worker. In his tool belt was a hammer.

The boy is strangely drawn to the hammer. It really isn't all that special, and the gun would be a ton more useful, but he figures he should have a backup weapon. He reaches for the hammer.

"Blaaaargh!" the dead guy grabs his wrist and pulls him closer.

"AAAAAAH!" the boy shouts, pounding the guy's face in with the nearly acquired hammer. His voice echoes through the empty streets. The boy checks his wrist. No bite marks.

What was he thinking? That was an absolute waste of time and way too risky. But hey, the hammer fit nicely in his hand, like it was made for him!

Groaning in the distance forces him to look up. Uh-oh.

Zombies come from all directions, guided by the boy's scream. Shit.

He moves so his back is facing an apartment building. He pulls out his gun and starts firing. For a while, he thinks he's got it covered. Until he ran out of bullets. Frustrated he throws the gun at a zombie's head and whips out the hammer.

"Looks like it's just you and me now," he tells the hammer. Yup, he's crazy.

Even though the zombies get a little too close for comfort, the boy is surprised by the damage he is able to inflict with the hammer.

But there are too many. He can't kill them all, no matter how perfect the hammer is for him. He was going to die.

"Yo!" Someone shouts from above. The boy looks up. A faint outline of a person is at the top of the apartment building.

"Bombs away!" the person shouts.

Something is falling from the building and towards the boy. It looks like…

"Shit!" The boy dives underneath a nearby car and just in time.

The explosion shakes the car, but doesn't destroy it. The boy can hear zombie moans cut off by the cruel fate of TNT.

And then there is silence.

The boy climbs out of the car. It was a make-shift bomb that was thrown down. Pieces of metal is embedded everywhere. Zombie are either decapitated or pinned to the ground.

The young boy curses under his breath and enters the building. Someone has a lot of explaining to do.

Another young boy is waiting for him, about his age. This boy has some slick shades on, and is a cool kid. That is, if being cool is completely relevant during a zombie apocalypse. Which it isn't. So he is still just another young boy. Some adjectives for him will have to come later.

"Dude, what took you so long? We thought you had become undead chow," the formerly cool kid asks.

"As you can see, I was busy trying not to become undead chow. By the way, why'd you throw a bomb at me, I could've died!"

"You would have, died if I didn't save your fucking ass."

The original young boy is relieved, despite his near-death, to be here. Now they can go back to his dad, and then find their other two internet friends. He wonders how his dad will react when they come. Technically John hadn't had permission to come here. Will his father ground him? Not come with?

But the boy is certain that things will be alright. They'll live.

"John! Stop standing there like an idiot and get over here!" the other boy says from down the hallway.

The young boy, I mean, John hurries to follow his friend.