Author's Note: These last weeks, I really wanted to write a zombie apocalypse survival story. I decided I make an iCarly fanfic with this concept. I hope you enjoy it.

[Freddie's POV]

Ring!

I grunted reached for my phone. It was 2 o' clock in the morning. Who the heck would call at a time like this? Apparently, my mom would.

"Hello, Freddie? Thank God, you're alive!" My mom was worried about me, as usual.

"What do you want, mom?" I asked.

"Freddie, listen carefully."

"Listening."

"I want you to go to the supply closet and get the black duffel bag"

"What is it for?"

"Just...get it."

"Fine."

I heavily made my way to the said supply closet. I grabbed the bag and propped it up the table.

"Got it. Now what?" I asked.

"Put on some heavy clothing and..." Mom paused.

"And what?"

"I love you, Freddie."

A spine tingling scream took over the phone. I dropped it, but quickly took it back.

"Mom? MOM!" I shouted at the damn phone. But all I heard was moaning. Like... a zombie.

I switched the television on and put it on the news channel. A news flash was in progress. A terrified reporter was trying to say something but gunshots and screams stopped him. A bloody guy wobbled near him. The reporter drew out a gun and shot the guy.

"Die you fucking zombies!" He sounded insane.

I threw my phone at the door. I looked back at the black duffel bag. It had "Zombie Survival Kit" written on it. I opened it and nearly fainted.

The bag was full of guns.

When I collected myself, I looked further into the bag. I identified the guns inside: A SPAS-15 combat shotgun, an MAC-10 machine pistol, an AR-15 semi automatic rifle and a couple of Glock 18 pistols. A ballistic knife and a sheathed machete was also inside the bag. In the side pockets were lots of ammunition, medkits and a letter from my mom. I read the letter and it went like this:

Freddie,

I want you to know that I kept these guns for your own safety, so don't play with them. I've considered all kinds of apocalypses and this is on of the most possible of them all, so I wanted you to become ready for it. Take the food rations I have prepared for you in the cupboard. Take these and the Zombie Survival Kit and go to Alaska. You can rebuild your life there.

P.S. I have condoms for you in the medkits. You may think you need to repopulate, but there's no need to rush.

Mom

I opened the cupboards and sure enough, there were food rations inside. I grabbed them and noticed something wrapped in cloth. I set the food rations on the table and took the cloth wrapped, uh, thing. I unwrapped it and revealed a sheathed sabre. Engraved on the handle was "Fencing Bensons". I figured it was a sabre my great-grandfather once owned. I strapped it to my belt and I felt powerful.

After putting the food rations in the bag, I took the SPAS-15 and a Glock out. I tucked the pistol in my pocket and slung the shotgun and bag behind my back. I unsheathed the sabre and went out the door.

You might be wondering why I'm not using the super awesome guns my mom kept for me. Here's why: I have played a million zombie themed games to know that guns will only bring you hordes of zombies. You only use guns if you really really need it. I also observed from the news flash that the zombies move slowly, so using melee weapons is a safe choice. You just have to be faster than the zombies.

I busted the door in front of mine open, surprising the half-asleep Carly. On normal circumstances, I would be swooning over her. But now isn't normal.

"What the heck, Freddie?" Carly slowly sat up as I locked the door.

"C'mon! We gotta go!" I shouted.

"Go where? And there's no need to shout at me."

I figured that she was still unwary of the current phenomena. To help her understand, I opened the TV. In the headlines were "ZOMBIES EVERYWHERE!". Now that woke Carly up.

"What the heck is going on?" She shouted.

"Just get some proper clothes on and we'll go."

Carly nodded and pushed the elevator button. The elevator opened and Carly yelped, seeing a zombie in it. The zombie took an interest on Carly, who fell on her back. I was not gonna be able to save Carly with a sabre at this distance, so I had to risk using the gun and give away our position.

I had to shoot two times because I didn't hit it the first time. Soon enough, there were scratching, banging, grunting and moaning behind the door. I pulled her towards the elevator and we went up to her bedroom.

Once in her room, I took two coats from her closet and gave one to her.

"What are the coats for? It's not that cold outside." Carly asked.

"It's for protection. The slightest wound caused by those zombies can get us infected." I told her.

"And you know this how?"

"Uh...video games?"

"Oh."

I opened the duffel bag and felt a surge of relief. I didn't notice how heavy it was. Maybe adrenaline was pumping inside me or something. When I got over it, I passed the MAC-10 and ballistic knife to Carly.

"Uh, how?" Carly was the girl of many questions.

"My mom kept guns for a zombie survival kit." I answered.

"Right."

She took the weapons and packed some of her clothes. Even in a zombie outbreak, she still can stop caring about her clothing! Then, I remembered something.

"Oh shit!" I cursed.

"What?" Carly was surprised.

"We forgot Spencer! We have to go back for him!"

"Oh, don't bother. He's in Alaska, ice fishing with Socko."

"Perfect!"

"Why?"

"Cause that's where we're going."

When done packing, I open her window with a fire escape outside.

Carly climbed out the window. She stared at the zombie infested streets of Seattle.

"Do you really think we can survive this?" She looked at me with doubt.

"I don't know. I really don't know."

I knew that to survive this outbreak, we need muscle power. And I know just where we can get that.

We ventured the streets, hiding behind cars. We were careful not to make noise, not wanting to give away our position to those monsters. Whenever a zombie was in our way or spotted us, I slice him up with my sabre.

A couple of blocks away, hordes of zombies were all heading to one direction. As we got closer, gunshots can be heard. I knew exactly what- or should I say who- was causing this ruckus.

"The Puckets." I said as I got my shotgun ready.