-Prolouge-

At first, they were rumors, just little bits of an idea turned about and molded into something almost believable. Sure, people were paranoid right from the start, anxious over such frivolous little ideas. They clambered and prepared, warned others and started up little organizations and groups through social media. Social media was a lifeline at the time, the only way to learn, the only way to communicate, the only way to live. Through this, the odd little groups grew, their participants feeding off each other's hysteria. The rest of society deemed sane in any comparison to the odd little members in their odd little groups- laughed the threat off. It was just a crazy idea from a book, a story originating from a far away land, a joke. Only a joke.

In an almost tragic twist of fate and irony, the prepared ones were the first ones to go. They snapped, broke under the pressure of the fate they predicted. They had everything ready, which set them apart from the others, the ones who had previously laughed at them and shunned their frantic worryings. With this new found sense of power, the prepared ones became cocky, holding their fortune just out of reach of the billions of others, dangling their luck in front of them in the same sick, twisted way an angler fish would dangle their eerie light in front of unsuspecting prey.

At first the prepared had devoted time, energy and supplies to ensure better defense against the rumors, offering their protection only to those deemed worthy. Men, women and children were denied the chance to survive merely because they had not followed a crazy idea on a whim. The prepared thought very well of themselves, easily assuming they were bulletproof in a sense. They discarded their defenses, opting to show their importance by facing the problem with only their pride and ego. The rumors quickly won, shadowing the world in the cold fog of dense uncertainty and fear.

Rumors may not be a fitting analogy for the newly discovered horrors. The rumors were not mere bits of ideas molded and turned, not little stories or jokes. No, they were real, so real they seemed almost unbelievable at first. No, they were not rumors, now they were a solid, tangible fact. They were beings representing both life and death, forever caught in a vicious cycle of pain and torture. Some of them were once prepared, many not. Rest assured that all of them were human at one point, all of them breathed and all of them lived. Nobody really knew if they should be considered dead or alive. They were similar to the basic principles of math, most like the rule stating that if a positive and a negative were to meet, the negative would win. This of course was assuming the negative represented death, and the positive life.

People were terrified of the rumors, more so now then at first, because at first, that's all they were. Rumors. Things to be considered made up, or the typical Monica and Billy stories. Things are only concepts or theory's until they have a name. Right? When the truth becomes to terrifying to hide, it must spill forth and reveal itself, for the rumors now had a name.

They were the undead creatures of myth and lore. They feasted on the flesh and bones of the living. There were so many things they could have been, but they were quite clearly only one possible thing.

They were zombies.


"Look at all of the rotters over there, there must be at least a hundred of them!" Noodle reported excitedly.

"Yeah," I said "They musta' trapped a bunch of survivors in there, or at least a really fat guy." I answered sarcastically, glaring subtly at Russel.

"Well we have to go then! If we can help just one person, then-"

"Then what? They're probably already dead." I said darkly.

As if to contradict my last statement, a shout loud enough to be heard from the battle-Geep sounded, and the massive hoard of the undead seemed to become more desperate to break into the dilapidated establishment. It seemed the door was locked, leaving the undead to ram their decaying bodies uselessly into the glass doors, mindlessly desperate to get at the poor souls trapped inside.

Prompted by another shrill shout, Noodle, Russel and I jumped jumped out of the Geep and carefully maneuvered to the back of the store to the back of the store, a place where the zombies had apparently not considered going. Russel bodychecked the heavy wood door, and Noodle charged in with her gun ready, aiming it around at any potential intruders. Finding none, we all rushed inside. I closed what was left of the splintered door.

The room we had burst into was just a messy storage room, and from the items present, I could only assume we were in some sort of music shop, one that sold instruments and the like. Of course though, what else would a music shop sell.

An odd growling sound accompanied by the tell-tale sound of plastic snapping was audible in the next room, clearly resulting from the struggles of the group inside. We quietly snuck up to the door connecting the two rooms. After a silent count to three, we rushed in.

At first, all I could really see were just a few zombies (one of them almost as fat as Russ) mobbed around someone, and that someone beating them off with a keyboard. The mystery person, from what I could see, looked as if he was in his early twenties, but quite possibly still a teenager. He looked as if they had gone several months without food or water. His skin as about the color of tracing paper, and his wild hair was a sort of muddy red color, most likely stained with his own blood. The most odd feature about him must have been his physique, aside from being dangerously thin.

His legs were the longest I had ever seen on any person, which looked incredibly awkward on him, considering he was at least a half-foot taller than me, maybe more.

With a determined shout, he bashed another zombie over the head with his keyboard, effectively destroying it in the process. He stared blankly at the now-useless weapon before dropping it on the ground. The group of zombies that were previously surrounding him had kept their distance, but, now that he was unarmed, moved in for the kill.

"Get away from him, creeps!" Noodle shouted at the previously deceased.

Most of the aforementioned 'creeps' looked at us, their focus directed from the kid only comparable to a toothpick, to Russel, who could be generously compared to a steroid-juiced giant turkey. Only the fat zombie remained, still fixated on the man in the corner. Even it had stopped attacking him, but did not advance towards us like the others had taken to doing.

"Noods, Russ. You take out the rotters, I'm goin' for the kid." I said quietly to my group, who nodded in understanding.

We all started moving at the same time. The zombies charged my companions, I ran at the bloke and the fat zombie grabbed him. As I said before, the kid was a toothpick and no match for the large zombie as it grabbed his arm, and certainly could not have prevented the bite that soon followed.

No, he couldn't have done anything about it, but I could have. I caught up to the zombie moments late, the irreversible damage already done.

The kid screamed in agony. In a desperate attempt at survival, he forcefully ripped his arm from the zombie's infected maw, his pale skin practically shredding. He shrieked and pressed his uninjured hand against the now-bleeding wound, and slid down the wall. Blood poured uncontrollably through the man's thin fingers. He brought his bleeding arm close to his chest, attempting to stop the blood that was freely flowing from the deep wound.

I aimed my gun at the fat zombie (who's nametag, I might add, said 'Uncle' Norman Spatch) and unloaded a hot bullet right between his beady eyes. He went down like a sack of potatoes, his heavy impact on the floor causing a mini-earthquake. I vaulted over him and rushed to the injured teenage bleeding out in the corner. He coughed a bit, blood dripping down his chin.

He was infected, and was sure to die soon, but for now he was alive and in unimaginable pain. I kneeled in front of him, the fabric covering my knees soaked in his blood, and fully took in his pained features.

For starters, I was wrong about his hair color. It was not actually muddy or red, but a vibrant blue, blood and dirt concealing the shocking color. Tears streaked down his pale face, and his otherwise impish features were twisted into an obvious expression of pain. I could tell he was one touch away from losing whatever cap he had on his emotions. He was tightly squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth in a half attempt to not cry out.

Let me educate you a little about zombies for a moment, yeah? Alright, in every zombie movie ever made, the time it takes for a person to transform into a zombie is different. In Dawn of the Dead, it takes three or four days, in 28 Days Later, it takes less than twenty seconds. What's up with that? Even before the incident, I was really not that into zombie movies, and I have only watched a few, but there are always so many things that are different in each one. The speed that zombies walk, how long it takes for them to change, how to kill them, how infection spreads... The list goes on.

But what's going on right now is not a zombie movie. No, this is real life. Not some fruity movie where the survivors have to repopulate the earth, not some corny book about zombies falling in love, not a horror movie. While there is no actual scientific studies done on the zombie populous, there are some stone hard facts.

Number one: Zombies CAN run, just not that fast.

Number two: Zombies are very clumsy. You can push them over or trip them with little effort.

Number three: It takes AT LEAST one full minute for a person to change into a zombie. Only one person has ever lasted longer, and he was a really fat guy.

Number four: SHOOT 'EM IN THE HEAD!

Number five: Once someone is bitten, they are doomed. You can't save them by cutting off limbs of giving them medication. There is no vaccine.

There, that explains a lot now, right? Mmm... There is one more thing. How do you tell exactly when someone has turned? Their eyes, that's how. Watch their eyes. As soon as their eyes fade from whatever color they were, shoot them in the face. Zombies have white, vacant eyes, humans have colored, intelligent eyes. Big difference, yeah? The zombie virus can only be spread through biting, as the toxins are in their saliva. I mean, I guess you could contract the virus if you kissed a zombie, but who does that? Seriously. Don't be stupid.

Anyway, as per general zombie rules, I pressed the tip of my gun up to the bloke's head. His eyes jerked open the moment the cold tip touched his forehead and he stared at it, or rather as much as could have seen, giving him sort of a cross-eyed appearance. Now I had the chance to watch his eyes and wait for the moment to strike. I saw his teary eyes follow the barrel of the gun to my hand, then to my face. He stared at me with wide, frightened eyes clouded with pain and confusion. His eyes were gray.

I clicked the safety off. It had been at least thirty seconds since he was bitten, probably more, but his eyes were not getting any lighter. If anything they seemed to get darker. I heard his breath hitch, and tears that had barely been restrained before tumbled forth, gliding down his pale cheeks. He sniffled a bit, and quietly sobbed against my gun. Small bits of pity pulled at my heart, but if you tell anybody, I will shoot you.

Even though it pained me to do so, I watched his eyes. I watched and waited, but they did not lighten, instead, the pupil (that little dark dot) seemed to expand. I know that that can happen to anybody, as it is a natural reaction to mood or the amount of light it is receiving, but not to this extent. The once small black dot expanded until it had covered the green colored part completely, which at that point, the kid decided to close his eyes and scream in agony.

Nice timing..

I pushed the tip of the gun harder into his forehead.

"Open yer eyes..." I mumbled, more to myself than him.

Tears now streamed freely from his closed eyes, each one seeming to take on a watery, almost black quality. What the hell was going on with this kid?! I pushed the gun against his head harder, the force making him cry out, and finally open his eyes. I almost dropped my gun in surprise, because not his eyes were not gray like they had been. No, that was too normal. His eyes were not the ghostly white they should have been by now, no.

His eyes were black. Completely black. The whole thing.

At this point I had dropped my gun. What in Satan's name was going on here? The should-be zombie and I had an intense stare down. Well, not really. I stared at him, and his eyelids just seemed to droop. I couldn't actually tell where he was looking, considering he had no visible iris or pupil. The saddening crying had stopped too, and his arms had dropped limply to his sides. He was completely relaxed, in a sort of pained way.

"What's the holdup, Muds?" Russel asked irritably.

"Huh?"

"Well, you have been staring at that kid for ten minutes now. Is he dead?"

"W-what? Ten minutes?!" I asked, genuinely startled.

"Uh... yeah..?"

"He... He's not dead..."

"Then shoot him before he bites you!" Noodle interjected.

"He's not a zombie, either.."

Both Russel and Noodle stared at me, speechless. I turned back to the strange man slumped against the wall, and just in time, too. His eyes slid closed, and he pitched forward, almost falling to the ground. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sight of him coming towards me, but I managed to actually catch him. Faster than I could blink, Noodle and Russel were beside me, guns pointed menacingly at the man propped up against my arms.

"WAIT WAIT! Don't shoot!" I said quickly, pushing the tip of Noodle's gun away.

Noodle and Russel looked at me worriedly.

"Uhh.." Russel began "We thought he was about to bite you, man, like they supposed to..."

"Did he just... up and die?" Noodle asked, interrupting.

I kneeled down further and pressed my head tentatively to his chest. 'Thump...Thump-thump...Thump-thump...'

"No.. He's still alive... I think 'e just passed out.."

"How is that a possibility!? He should be trying to bite, and infect us for living!" Noodle exploded.

"I know.." I replied "But he isn't... and his eyes.. he's not bloody normal!"

"What about his eyes?" Russel interrupted.

"They're not white."

"What? So he has normal eyes? That mean he is immune to the virus? This is great! Think of all of the-" Noodle ranted.

"No, I don't think he's human..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Russel leaned in towards us to get a better look, raising a thick eyebrow.

I sighed. How was I supposed to explain myself if everybody kept spewing out questions? A loud banging sound at the door stole everybody's attention.

"They're breaking down the door!" Noodle yelled.

Shoot! I quickly stood up and started running to the door, but a dull thud and a quiet groan stopped me in my tracks. I forgot about the blue-haired kid! I couldn't just leave him there, right?