Author's Notes: I love anything zombies, movies, books, games, anything. So I decided why not do a zombie Fan Fic. There is no association to the Dawn of the Dead franchise, but follows the a similar idea. So enjoy!

Chapter 1

The early morning silence was shattered at the sound of a door being kicked open, practically busting off the hinges. Scott emerged running full steam out of the house, with a duffel bag in one hand, and a back pack in the other.

".Shit" Scott said as he raced to his truck, parked next to the curb. He quickly looked behind him to see if his attackers had followed him. He reached the black silverado truck and dug into his pockets for his keys.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck." Scott repeated as he frantically searched for his keys in his pockets. He kept looking over his shoulder, at the gaping hole were his door used to be. He produced a silver set of keys out of his pocket, and plunged one of them into the door lock. He threw the door open, and tossed the two bags in the passenger seat. Scott jumped into the driver seat and closed the door behind him. He fumbled his keys between his fingers for a moment before producing the right one, and stuck it into the ignition. The truck roared to life, and Scott dropped the selector into driver and peeled away, into the street.

"What Fuck? Who the Fuck? Fuck!" Scott yelled as he put the accelerator to the floor, constantly looking into the rear view mirror.

Yesterday

Buzz....Buzz....Buzz

The sound of the alarm clock woke him. He slowly opened his eyes and rolled over. He reached over to his bedside and slammed his hand against the small alarm clock. The early morning disorientation, caused some confusion before he realized he had to wake up and go to work.

"5:30 A.M, Shit." Scott said as he looked at the glowing green number display. He slowly rolled over and slid his legs out from underneath the covers. It was the middle of summer, but still a chilly early morning. Scott shivered slightly as he stood up in only his boxers. He stretched and yawned loudly as he walked over his dresser. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a pair jeans and a pair of underwear. He walked over to his closet and pulled out a black t-shirt. He threw the clothes onto his bed and let out another yawn, as he exited his bedroom and walked out into the hallway. He opened a door halfway down the hall and pulled out a towel, before continuing down the hallway. He came to a door at the end of the straight, and opened it, leading into a bathroom.

"I cant do this shit much longer." Scott muttered to himself as he looked into the mirror. What stared back at him was the man he didn't want to be. A man with no future except to work his whole life and never become anything because of it, just like his old man. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, before ditching his boxers into a close hamper in the corner of the bathroom. He let out a another yawn and shiver as he turned on the water from the shower, giving it a minute to warm up. He entered the shower and let the warm water run over him, it was definitely the most relaxing part of his day.

10 minutes passed and he exited the shower. He shook his head, splashing water drops all over his mirror. He dried off and walked back to his bedroom. He put on his clothes and took a deep sigh. He went back to the drawers and produced a pair of socks and put them on. He grabbed a belt out of his closet and put it around his waist. He walked downstairs into the kitchen, the picture window let in the morning sunrise. Scott flinched his eyes as the bright light took him by surprise.

He walked over to the cabinet and opened the door. "Damn, should have picked up some coffee yesterday." He shook his head, and shut the door. He walked into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He put his feet up on the coffee table, and grabbed the remote. He clicked on the TV and switched it over to ESPN, to catch the morning Sportscenter. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes sitting on the table and lighter next to it. He flipped open the box and realized he only had two left. "Fuck! Gotta pick some up before work." He pulled out one of remaining cigarettes and lit it. He took a couple heavy drags before putting the cigarette in the ash tray. The TV remained on for about 15 minutes, but Scott barely payed attention as he spaced out at the thought of going to work. He finished off the remaining bit of the cigarette and put it out in the glass dish. He looked at the clock.

6:30 A.M.

"Guess its that time." Scott said as he stood up from the couch. He grabbed the last cigarette and put it behind his ear, before walking back up stairs. He went back into the bedroom, opening the closet and producing a pair of black work boots. He put on the leather boots and slid his pant cuffs over the top of them. He grabbed a black baseball cap from his closet and a hooded Iron Maiden sweatshirt. He slid the sweatshirt over his T-shirt and put the hat on. He grabbed his wallet, cellphone, and keys from the nightstand and walked back downstairs. Scott spun his keys around his fingers as he walked down the steps. He opened the door and the cool morning air hit him. Even with a sweatshirt on, he still got a chill. He closed the door behind him as he left the house. He stood on the front porch, for a minute to take it in. The suburb he lived in was located about two hours outside of Los Angeles. Scott turned to see his neighbor walking back to his house, newspaper under his arm.

"Hey Fred."

"Scott, hows it goin?"

"Eh, you know same old-same old."

Fred smiled as he walked back to his house. "Have a good one Scott"

"You to, Fred." Fred disaperred into his house, as Scott took a deep breath. He grabbed the cigarette behind his ear and put it in his mouth. He pulled the light from his pocket and lit up. His black Chevy Silverado set next to the curb in front of his house. He took a drag from the cigarette and walked over to the truck. He unlocked it and climbed in, he scratched his head and turned the truck on. He rolled down the driver side window enough to ash his smoke. Scott reached into the center console and produced a black Ipod. He plugged it into an adapter, and scrolled through his songs before coming to what he wanted. "2 Minutes to Midnight" by Iron Maiden blared over his speakers, as he pulled away from his house. As he drove along the road, he tapped his finger on the steering wheel to the beat of the song as he took another drag off the cigarette. After a few minutes of driving, he came upon a gas station. He pulled his truck into the parking lot and pulled into a space. He flicked the cigarette butt down on the ground and walked inside. The woman working behind the counter quickly recognized him.

"Hey scotty." The woman called.

"Oh hey, Claudia."

Scott walked over to the coffee and pulled out a cup. He slowly poured the hot coffee into the Styrofoam cup, trying not to burn himself in the process. He capped the cup, and walked over to the counter.

"So whats new Claudia?"

"Oh same shit, different day."

"I know how that goes." He remarked sarcastically

"Is this it, hon?" She gestured to the cup of coffee.

"Actually give me a carton of camels."

Claudia reached under the counter and produced a rectangular box. She scanned it into the computer and punched in a few numbers.

"Alright, that will be $69.74."

Scott pulled his wallet out of back pocket, and opened it. He pulled out a fifty dollar bill and a twenty dollar bill. He slid the money to Claudia, and grabbed the box of cigarettes. "Keep the change." He said.

"Thanks honey, you have a good day." She said with a smile.

"You too, Claudia." Scott let out a small smile as he tucked the box of smokes under his arm. He picked up the cup of coffee and walked out the door. He took a sip and cringed a little.

"God, now I know why I make my own coffee."

On the way to his truck, he threw the cup of coffee in a garbage can. He'd rather go through his day without coffee than have nasty coffee. He jumped back into his truck and shut the door. He grabbed the box of cigarettes and opened it. He grabbed a pack from inside the box and slapped it against his palm several times. He tore the cellophane wrapper of the box and opened, before pulling a cigarette out of the box. He took out his lighter and lit the cigarette. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled, expelling the smoke from his mouth. He cracked his neck and popped his car into reverse. He slowly back out of his spot before putting it back in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. He drove along, occasionally taking a puff from the cigarette, and listening to whatever his MP3 player had in store. About 10 minutes had passed before he finally reached his destination, Miller & Miller Shipping, were he worked down in the warehouse. He pulled his truck into the parking lot and pulled into the first available parking space. He put his truck into park and took a deep breath.

"Got a do watcha gotta do." This say reminded him of his dad, as he used to say it all the time. He exited his truck and flicked the cigarette, and walked to the front door. He walked into the well furnished building and noticed the young brunette sitting behind the main desk.

"Hey Scott"

"Hey Mary, how are you?"

"Eh cant complain, you?"

Scott shrugged his shoulders. Mary was the receptionist that started working here around 6 months ago.

"Did you hear what happened downtown?" Mary asked quizzically

"Nope." Scott replied

"There was a big riot there earlier this morning. Apparently a lot of people got hurt."

"Hmmm, not surprised." Scott said with sarcasm in his voice.

"Whats that supposed to mean?" Mary asked

"It's LA, riots happen all the time. There pretty common since that Rodney king mess a while back. While anything I gotta know before I head downstairs?"

"No, nothing new."

"Alright, thanks mary. Have a good day."

"You too, Scott"

Scott walked along the hallway, passing offices and cubicle complexes along the way. This was about the most mundane job you could get he thought to himself. He came to a door at the end of a hall which read "AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY". Scott reached into his wallet and pulled his ID card out. He scanned it through and heard the door click, signifying it unlocking. He walked down a metal stair case into the main warehouse. He could see some of his co-workers sitting at a table, talking about god knows what. He reached the floor, and walked the past the table before heading to the locker room. He went into his lock and pulled out his work shirt. He threw his sweatshirt into his locker and put his work shirt on over his t-shirt. He slowly buttoned his work shirt. He shut his locker door and saw one his co-workers, Steve.

"Hey Steve." He called out.

"Oh hey scotty."

"Any shipments coming in today?" Scott asked.

"Ummmm....Yeah at one."

"Till, then inventory and the same shit."

"Yup."

"Alright, see ya out there."

The day trudged on slow as ever, doing the same thing everyday was nothing short of torture for Scott In addition to the slow day, all Scott heard all day was talk about the riot in Los Angeles. Scott just shook his head.

If I wanted to hear about riots all day, everyday I would have stayed in LA Scott thought to himself. The day continued to move slow, it didn't help that every so often Scott would check his watch waiting for 6:00pm to roll around.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock........Ding, Ding, Ding!

6:00pm had finally rolled around. Scott breathed a sigh of relief as he walked over to the punch station and slid his punch card in. The thwack sound it made, gave a sense of relief to Scott. He went back to the locker room and unbuttoned his work shirt. He threw it into the locker and grabbed his sweat shirt. He left the locker room without saying anything to his go workers. He slowly marched up the stairs into the office portion of the building. People in their cubicles were picking up their belongings and leaving, making for heavy foot traffic. He reached the exit and walked out side. As soon as he got outside he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and light up, as people passed by him on either side of him. He walked over to his truck, unlocked his door and got in. He quickly put the key into the ignition and started his truck up and pulled out of his space. He rolled down his window, to let the warm summer air in. He drove along, listening to music, tapping his finger against his steering wheel. Before he knew it he was finally back at his sub-division and back at his house. He pulled the truck along the curb and put into park. He got out, locked the vehicle up and walked up to his house. He unlocked the door and walked into the dark house. He flipped on the light, illuminating the living room. He exhaled on his cigarette, his second on his trip home. Slowly, he plodded into the dark kitchen and open the fridge. The light from the fridge acted like a flood light, brightening the entire room. He pulled out a bottle of beer from the fridge and walked back into the living room. He sat down on the couch and ashed the cigarette into the glass dish on the table. He twisted the cap off the bottle and took a quick swig, before setting it down.

"Another day in the books." he said to himself as he grabbed the remote. He flipped on the TV and took another drink from his beer and a drag from his cigarette. He flipped through the channels before he stopped on a news channel as something had caught his eye. The headline on the news channel read "Riot in LA continues." He sighed slightly as he continued to watch the news. He grabbed his beer and leaned back against the couch.

"LAPD reports that the riot that started earlier this morning has not, I repeat not been fully contained as previously reported. Reports are also coming in stating that the riot has spread outside of the City of Los Angeles and smaller situations are springing up as far south as an hour and a half outside of the city. Citizens anywhere in these affected areas are requested to stay in their homes."

Obviously, riots in LA didn't bother Scott, but when they happen right around the corner, this sprung up concern. Scott took another big drink from his beer and continued to listen to the news report.

"LA hospitals are reporting being overrun with patients, with injuries ranging from what are being said to be bite and scratch wounds to even as extreme as having fingers being removed. This is not what the hospitals were expecting as they were preparing for stab wounds, gunshot wounds, or burn victims."

Scott took a drag off his cigarette and finished off the beer. Something didn't sit right in his stomach, however. His gut felt heavy, uneasy. Something didn't seem right. As the hours passed on, and Scott was four beers in and about 15 cigarettes, news continue to flood in from the city. His stomach still turned and felt uneasy. He check the clock and the numbers read 9:30pm. He sighed again and turned off the TV. He finished his cigarette and walked over to the stairs. He walked up to his bed room and flipped the light on. He took all his belongings out of his pockets and set them on his dresser. He scratched his head, before sitting down on the bed. He unlaced his boots and threw them across the room. He slid his T-shirt off and threw it in the same direction as his shoes, he did the same with his jeans. He walked back over to the light and switched it off, immediately turning the room into total darkness. He walked over to the bed and slid under the sheets. He shook his head and rolled over, wanting to fall asleep.

10:30pm

Scott tossed and turned in bed, not being able to fall asleep. The news reports still resonated in his head. He desperately wanted to sleep, but his mind wouldn't let him.

"Fuck!" Scott said as he violently sat up. He slid his legs out from under the sheets and ran his fingers through his hair. He stood up and walked over to the light switch and flipped it on. The sudden shock of light blinded him but it subsided quickly. He grabbed his jeans and shirt and put them on before exiting his bedroom and walking back downstairs. He sat on the couch but didn't turn the TV on. The last thing he wanted to hear was more crap about the riots.

"Maybe I should...." He said to himself. Scott stood up from the couch and slowly walked over into the kitchen. On the other end of the kitchen, a painted green door sat. Scott walked up to the door and slowly opened it. On the other side, sat a stairway leading down to the basement. He flipped on the light switch and walked down the steep stairs. He used the basement to store anything he didn't have space for upstairs or was going to get rid of. The basement wasn't dank like usual basements but it wasn't exactly cozy either. He walked over to the other side of the basement were two green military foot lockers sat. He paused before opening the foot lockers and took a few deep breaths.

"Better safe then sorry I guess." He said to himself as he knelt down and flipped open the clasps on the first one. He opened the lid of the rectangular box. He paused for a moment, staring at what was inside the box. He reached in and pulled out part of the contents.

An authentic AK-47 assault rifle.

He held it in his hands and stared at the gun for a moment. He shook his head and took a deep breath. He set the gun on the cold concrete floor and looked back into the foot locker. Two black, plastic cases sat at the bottom. Scott reached in and pulled out both cases and set them next to the AK-47. He unclipped both of the locks on the cases and opened them.

Two .45 Colt handguns stared back at him.

His lower lip quiver slightly, all this power and it was right below his feet the whole time. He closed up both cases and walked over to the second foot locker. Just like the other one, he flipped down the locks and opened the box. What was in the box wasn't guns, but something just as important.

Ammunition. And Lots of it.

He exhaled in shock at the amount of shells that filled the case. He looked up at the flipped up lid and something was engraved on the inside.

Son, Use these when the time is right.

The guns and ammo belonged to his father, an ex-marine. The house and everything it belonged to his parents. They passed away a year ago in a car accident. They left Scott everything.

Scott looked around the basement and found a black duffel back and a back pack. He grabbed both bags and brought them over. He began loading as much ammo as he could carry. As soon as he was done he slung the duffel over his right shoulder and brought the strap across his chest. He threw the backpack on his back and with his free hands, grabbed the three firearms. He walked upstairs, awkwardly as the bags swayed side to side. He got upstairs and placed the ammo and guns in his living room. He sat on the couch and stared vacantly at the two black bags.

"What the hell am I doing?" Scott said as he put his head in his hands. He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair, before standing up from the couch. He walked away from the couch and walked over to the stairs. About half-way up the stairway, he looked back at the two bags before shaking his head. He took two more steps before backtracking back downstairs. He approached the bags and cases. He opened up both of the cases housing the .45's. He pulled out both of them and the spare clips. He unzipped the backpack and threw one of the guns into the back. He unzipped the duffel and pulled out a small box containing ammo for the .45. Carefully he loaded one of the clips and slid it into the gun. The click sound, signified the clip being seated fully in the gun. He pulled back the slid, putting the shell in the chamber. He examined the gun before walking back up the stairs. Scott didn't even bother getting undressed as he slid into his bed and set the pistol on his nightstand.

Even with the firearm next to him, he still slept uneasy. Falling in and out of sleep the whole night. Finally at around 2:00am, he fell asleep.

Buzz.....Buzz....Buzz

The sound of his alarm clock threw Scott awake. He looked over at the clock, as the numbers read 6:15am.

"Fuck, overslept." He said to himself. He didn't have time to shower, but he was already dressed so he just needed his boots. He sat on his bed and stared at the silver pistol on his bed. No sound, No sirens, No screaming.

"Guess I overreacted. No fucking riot."

He grabbed his boots off the floor and quickly laced them. He stood up and grabbed his belongings and shoved them into his pockets. He grabbed his hat off the dresser and put on. He was about to open his bedroom door, when......

CRASH!

The sound of glass breaking caused him to stop. The sound was coming from downstairs.

"Fuck, Maybe I spoke to soon." Scott said. His breathing became heavy, and sweat beaded up on his forehead. He swallowed hard, and looked back at the pistol sitting on his nightstand.

"Better safe than sorry...."

He grabbed the gun and slowly opened the door. He made his way down the hall to the stairs. He slowly walked down the stair, trying to keep his volume level minimal. He found himself at the bottom of the stairs, looking into the kitchen. The door leading from the kitchen to the back yard was shattered and his intruder was standing in the kitchen, oddly enough not moving at all. Scott lifted the gun up to eye level.

"Hey You!"

His intruder slowly turned and face him. Scott's look of shock turned to confusion as his intruder turned out to be none other than his neighbor, Fred still dressed in his bathrobe. But something wasn't right, Fred had a huge gash running along his face, blood still oozing from the wound. Scratches and bite marks ran up and down his arms. Fred stared vacantly at Scott.

"What the Hell? Fred are you ok?

Fred stared for a brief moment, before starting to shamble towards Scott. He wasn't walking, it was more of a drunken stumble.

"Fred!" Scott said

Fred continued to move towards Scott He said nothing, except for a low, incomprehensible moaning.

"Fred, man, you better back the fuck up!"

Fred got within spitting distance and began reaching for Scott.

"Fred, I am not gonna tell you again, Back up!"

Fred began to snarl and bite at Scott.

"Sorry Fred." Scott said as he held the gun up high. He thought for a split second before spinning the gun around. He raised the .45 high, and brought the butt of the down, hard onto the top of Fred's head. Fred dropped to the ground.

"What the fuck is going on?" Scott turned around and took two steps before he heard the moaning again. He turned to see Fred getting up off the ground.

"What the hell?"

Fred started shambling towards Scott once again. Scott lifted the gun again and took aim. He took a deep breath and aimed at Fred's shoulder. He pulled the trigger. A loud bang reverberated through out the house. He shot connected directed into the meat of Fred's shoulder. But fred kept coming. Scott look on in shock. A shot in the shoulder from a .45 would drop anyone, but not fred. Scott took aim again this time lower. He pulled the trigger again. Another bang reverberated through out the house. The shell left the barrel of the gun and connected with the left knee of Fred. The bullet practically exploded the bone and muscle of Fred's leg, but still Fred kept coming. Scott swallowed again as he lifted up his gun to eye level.

"Sorry Fred." He said again as he fired a third time. The bang echoed throughout the house again and time seemed to slow, as Scott could see the shell flying through the air. The bullet hit its target, square into the middle of Fred's forehead and exited out the back bringing bone and brain matter with it. Fred staggered for a second before falling to his knees and falling face first at the feet of Scott Scott began to breath heavy as he bent over and put his hands on his knees. He stared down at the body of Fred. He reached down and flipped over the body. The dull of lifeless eyes stared back at him. He swallowed heavy again and gagged. He back away from the body and vomited on the floor. Scott bent over again to catch his breath and wipe his mouth when heard the moaning again. He looked forward to see Fred's body still lying lifeless on the floor in front of him. He stood up straight and looked out the gaping hole in the kitchen door. Two more figures stood in his backyard, showing similar mannerisms to that of Fred. Slowly they plodded towards the open door, moaning loudly. Scott stood their, frozen in the horror that stood before him.

"What the fuck?" Scott said. He lifted up the .45, before realizing it was useless.

"Fuck!" Scott shouted as he turned around and ran to the front door. He grabbed both bags that sat near the door in both hands, and with one solid kick he sent the door flying open.