I sprint as fast as I can into the prison. How I got there is too hard to explain. A few slices of heads off bodies and ripped pants and here I am. Running as fast as I can.
Well, you don't know me. So, I'll tell you my story.
My name is Ellie (pronounced Eelie. Yeah my hippie parents' idea). I am thirteen years old—or so I can remember from a 2010 calendar. I should be fourteen in two months. I have shoulder length, curly, red hair. My complexion is pale. My face sprinkled with freckles. And eyes probably the ugliest shade of brown eyes can be. I am wearing shoplifted clothes. Well, I wouldn't call them shoplifted. I mean, it's the zombie apocalypse! When you take clothes from a store, no one's there to stop you. The clothes I'm wearing are tight, black jeans (now ripped on the thigh and knee), black, lace-up combat boots, a black tank top, and a green army jacket. My fiery red hair is pulled back in a small ponytail at the back of my head, my bangs swooping off to the right of my forehead.
So, that's what I look like. Here's my actual story.
I was born in Belle Haven, Virginia. I lived there until the year it started. Me, my older brother, Jeremy, and my parents moved to Atlanta because my mom got some job offer or something. The whole world when to hell once we finally moved into our new house. It was a nice one. My parents spent a fortune on it. It was one of those modern LA houses. Everything clean, sharp angled, grey, and white. It was a waste of money. Buy a house then have it get infested with geeks.
You probably don't know what geeks are. Well, there are many terms used for them. They're just zombies. But you can call them walkers, lame brains, geeks, etc. I don't know why I do. It just sounds not serious enough when you call the dead zombies. But then again, I call them geeks.
Back to my story. We actually lived in the house for two days. That's all it took for one boy, my brother, to get sick. It happened over night. He had a fever just before he went to bed. All I could hear from my room was the shriek of my mother as she saw the mutilated body of my brother. I ran out of my room and saw him.
It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. There he was. My brother. But he wasn't my brother anymore. He was someone—something else.
His eyes were glazed over with a milky film. He looked fine otherwise. If he hadn't been moaning and trying to eat my face off, I might think he was my brother. I didn't do anything to save my parents though. The thing lunged at my mom and tore out her neck with its teeth. She was screaming bloody murder, throwing him off and clasping her neck. Next, Jeremy bit into Dad's leg.
I didn't know what to do. I ran out of the house, the sound of the bloody footsteps of a geek behind me. All I could do was run. That's what I learned is survival. When you don't have weapons, run. That's how I survived. I was smarter than them.