One day. That's all I want. One day to be a normal girl. I want to wake up, take a shower, spend hours on my appearance, go to work, have dinner with family, party with friends, and spend all night in the arms of a man who thinks I'm everything he ever needed. Is that too much to ask? I wanted the freedom of growing up and jumping from job to job. I needed it like crops need the rain. I was parched for just a drop of what the world used to be.

I guess I should be thankful though. I'm still alive. I'm breathing, with a heartbeat and thoughts and a conscience. I could be dead. Or undead.

The world is nothing like what it was. Cities have fallen, countries have been overrun, and most of the people in the world have been infected. While so many were killed, not everyone stayed that way. Some stood back up. They started walking again, searching for food, just after their heart stopped beating. It's not a miracle, nothing like that. These people aren't human anymore. They are shells of what they once were, monsters without any thoughts except for basic instincts. They feed. That's it. They don't sleep. They don't think. They simply search for food forever.

They're not easily deterred either. Since they have no feeling, injuries do not slow them down. You could chop off their legs and they'd still crawl after you. Hell, you could chop off their heads and they'd still be snapping away like some angry turtle. The only way to stop them is by destroying their brain. Bullets, axes, bats… anything that obliterates the control center shuts them down, forever.

The undead can pick up on a human's scent, which alerts them to dinnertime. They all converge on the one human, not thinking that they won't all get a bite. I've seen hordes surround houses, scratching and gnawing their way through the wood to get to the tasty morsels inside. Sounds pretty chilling, hm? Maybe that's why so many people opted out. There were countless numbers of suicides in the beginning. Some even took out their loved ones before turning the gun on themselves. It's better to die your own way than to be torn apart, I guess.

They have many names. Before the end of the world, they were simply called zombies. But things changed after people saw them in person. There're names like lame-brains, biters, rotters, roamers, lurkers, floaters, geeks, meat puppets, and walkers. There are other names, but the list would go on for days, and let's face it, no one has that kind of time or cares that much.

Surviving in this world is tricky business. In theory, being in a group is the safest option. However, several people have survived pretty well by themselves. Groups can lead to panic and in desperate situations, humans can turn on each other faster than a pack of wolves. I'm part of a group, but mostly that's for my brother's sake. I can't be awake all the time to watch him, and I can't take on more than one or two of the undead at a time. Being in a group ensures that he's safe, as long as I keep my eye on the others.

That's one thing I'm thankful for- having my brother. When the world went to shit, we stuck by each other. He's three years younger than me, so I feel responsible for him. However, he tends to take care of me a lot, treating me more like his little sister than his older one. Our parents are long gone, so we're alone. We know they are because we watched the zombies rip their way inside the house we grew up in. When the screams stopped, we decided to run.

Kael and I didn't get far. With the undead getting back up at every turn, we were easily outnumbered. It's a wonder neither of us were bitten with all of our close calls. If we hadn't found our group when we did, I'm sure we would be one of the walkers, shambling along until we found a human to rip into. Although I don't trust everyone in the group, I do know that they are just as terrified of zombies as we are. They provide at least menial protection. As long as I get a couple hours to sleep with someone watching my back, I can take care of Kael, no problem.

Oh shit, I forgot my manners. Although, who needs them in this world, right? I'm Ariana. I'm just a couple months from turning twenty-one. Instead of going out and partying like I planned, I'll probably be on watch for the undead, praying they don't attack my group. I'll be starving, which is standard for someone in our predicament. I have a seventeen year old brother, my parents are dead, my friends are most likely zombies, and legally, I can't even drink away my problems yet. Yeah. Life is funny, hm?