After the Outbreak, when the whole world shut down for the first and final time I was a few hundred feet underground. I remember eating a Snack Pack and keeping both eyes on the monitor overlooking an empty overgrown meadow.
My radio system was tuned in to scan all channels, I heard nothing but screams and carnage.
For exactly one minute there was silence.
Not one filled with static or white noise, just absolute silence. The minute where we realized that living turned into surviving.
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Now you are probably wondering why I was hiding underground, why I was eating pudding like there was no tomorrow.
It's simple, there was no tomorrow. At least not for half the world.
I did warn people, I honestly tried. I had a podcast, a website, and a popular Facebook page. I even wrecked an Ellen show to let the people know, earning myself a restraining order and a lifetime ban from live television. No one believed me. Until the last red-hot second.
My accounts were flooded with views, comments, and pleas. I answered as many as I could, as fast as I could. I was only one person, it's not as if I was made of hands.
How did I discover the terror behind the pop cult hit of the zombie apocalypse? Is that what you're asking? Let me tell you a little something about 'wrong place, wrong time'.