Clare

The morning started out like any other.

Sun shining, mailman whistling as he dropped off letters and bills, her mother humming in the kitchen as she made Clare's breakfast.

Clare herself was sitting in front of her vanity, pursing her lips in irritation as a stray lock of hair evaded her attempts at curling it. She clutched the cinnamon strands, pulling them out and entering them into her curling iron. Letting the curling iron work its magic, she released, the irritating strand coiling perfectly against her head.

With a smile, Clare blew herself a kiss in the mirror, grabbing her phone off of her bedside table and her backpack from the floor. Hopping down the stairs, she called out, "Mom?"

No answer.

"Mother.. Mother of mine? Helen Edwards!" she cooed, waltzing into the kitchen. Her mom was nowhere to be found. "Mom?" Clare called again, turning in a circle. The entire house was empty, save for herself.

Clare shook her head, her mother had probably ran out of pancake mix or something, and had gone to the grocery store without telling her. Clare walked across the tiled kitchen, opening a cupboard and pouring herself a cup of coffee. Humming, inhaling the delicious spicy aroma, Clare raised the cup to her lips.

Suddenly, a hand closed over her shoulder. She jumped, sloshing coffee down the side of her mug. "Jeez, mom." she laughed, turning, "You scared-" Clare gasped, backing away, coffee cup crashing to the floor and shattering on impact.

Helen Edwards stood before her daughter, eyes pitch black, pulsing in their sockets as they took in what looked like a tasty morsel. Her skin was pale, veins visible underneath a sheen of sweat. Clare held a hand to her mouth, "..Mom?" she whispered.

Helen cocked her head to the side, her mouth hanging open slightly. With no warning, she lunged forward, reaching out to grab Clare. Clare squeaked, jumping back.

Helen growled, a completely inhuman sound. Clare stumbled backwards into the living room as Helen advanced on her, dark eyes narrowed in hunger. Clare gasped, the back of her knees hitting the coffee table, she tumbled to the ground.

Helen, in her state of distress, followed after Clare, desperate to take a bite out of the girl. Helen's teeth snapped near Clare's ankle. In horror, Clare pulled her foot back, jamming her heel into her mother's face. Helen backtracked, howling.

Clare took advantage of Helen's distraction, jumping up and running from the room.

She slammed her door shut, turning the lock, falling back against her door.

"What the hell is going on?" she breathed. Clare stood uneasily, stumbling to her window. The mailman was gone, his truck toppled over in the middle of the street, envelops scattered everywhere. Bright, red liquid—blood—stained the envelopes. Clare tore her eyes away from the scene, looking across the road.

"Oh." she gasped.

Her neighbors, looking exactly like her mother, pale, veiny, hungry, stood side by side on the sidewalk across from her house, gazes fixated on her window.

Clare ducked down, hiding just below the window's edge. She wiggled her cellphone out of her pocket, dialing her dad's number. He was on a business trip in the States, had been for days now.

She waited, "We're sorry. The number you have called has been disconnected-" Clare snapped her phone shut.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she peaked her head up above the window's edge. The group that had been standing on the sidewalk was now gone.

Clare gasped out a sigh of relief. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until the crushing pressure in her chest vanished as she exhaled.

Relief coursed through her veins, and then, someone knocked on her door. Clare stilled.

Scratching followed the knocking, then, a body slammed against the door. "Oh my god." Clare jumped up, leaping across the room and shoving her body against the wood as the door rocked in its frame.

Snarling, growling, and howling sounded from the other side of the door. Clare guessed that the group from the sidewalk had entered her house. Clare struggled to keep the door shut, pushing with all her strength. Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Clare huffed out a breath, slamming against the door one last time, she fished her phone out, flipping it open as Eli's name flashes across the screen.

"I'm kind of busy right now," she said, shoving against the door with her shoulder. "We're coming to get you." Eli said, ignoring her.

"We? Eli, what in god's name is going on?" she asked, slamming against the door with a cry. The lock jiggled, and Clare grimaced.

"Zombies, Clare, zombies."


Bianca and Fitz

"Oh, hell no." Bianca spat, shoving the ugly creature away from her, "This shit is not kosher." she grimaced, picking up the baseball bat she'd been toting around since early that morning.

With a grunt, Bianca swung her weapon, the metal bar arcing and smashing into the zombies face. It went down instantly, falling to its knees on the sidewalk, slumping to the side as Bianca kicked it away.

She wiped the bat off on her shirt, the offending red goo splattering her face. She grimaced, "Ugh." wiping the blood from her eyes, nose, and mouth.

You see, Bianca DeSousa was on a mission. Her boy, Mark Fitzgerald, was at home, house arrest, you know? The dumbass had brought a knife to a Degrassi dance, whipping it out for the world to see.

Bianca thought he was a fucking idiot, but kind of a badass. So that's why she'd left her apartment at precisely eight o'clock that morning, leaving a trail of bodies in her wake.

She'd seen zombie apocalypse movies, had even dressed up as Milla Jovovich once for Halloween, and she knew that if you wanted to survive the end of the world, you needed some badass people by your side.

Bianca wasn't school smart, but she was street smart. She strolled across the sidewalk, whistling a show tune with ease as people ran around her, yelling and screaming as zombies fell on them. Bianca considered helping them, but then again, since when had any of them helped her?

God, she was such a bitch. she realized with a start, shuffling out of the way as a middle-aged man met his end at the teeth of a particularly nasty looking zombie.

Fitz's house was on the next street over, probably surrounded by the ugly undead fucks. Bianca sighed, patting her bat.

As it turns out, there weren't any zombies.

Of course, Fitz lounging on his front steps, hunting rifle across his lap probably had something to do with it.

"'Sup, B?" he nodded at her, cigarette stuck between his lips. Bianca walked up his front walk, pulling the cig from between his lips, placing it in her own.

"Thought I'd come bust your ass out of house arrest so we could go save the world, or some shit like that." she spoke around the cigarette, smoking billowing into the morning breeze. Fitz smirked, holding up his left leg, rolling his jeans up, "Can you work an ankle bracelet, DeSousa?"


Fiona

Fiona tipped her head back, the liquor sliding down her throat. She tossed the shot glass away, the glass shattering on the hardwood floor. Her floor was covered with glass, the clear shards twinkling as her chandelier swung in time with the whirring fan.

Fiona sat on the ground, leaning against her couch. She was clad in her favorite sun dress, the yellow one with the white lace on the bottom.

She was plastered, too.

Fiona'd been outside that morning, checking the weather to see what sort of hairstyle would be appropriate for school that day. After seeing the whole shitfuck that was the end of the world right in her front yard as the owner of the coffee shop across the street foamed at the mouth while chasing what she assumed was a customer, Fiona had decided to forgo school.

In doing so, she had guaranteed herself a low level of consciousness for the day.

Fiona giggled to herself, wrapping her fingers around the lace of her dress.

The pretty brunette didn't seem to notice as her front door ghosted open, she was too preoccupied with her dress. Feet tapped against the floor, and Fiona finally looked up, "Declan?" she asked, squinting up at the figure standing over her.

"No, bitch. I'm not your dorky, yet studly, brother." Holly J snapped, yanking the girl to her feet. "Get yourself together, we're gonna blow this popsicle stand."