I remember a time before the Outbreak. Back in this time no one really had anything to fear. Fear back then was a tidal wave compared to the tsunami of dread that will never retreat. This time wasn't so long ago; in fact it was about a year. If time wasn't imposed by the moon and the sun, but by how long it felt, it could've been an eternity.
The fad of the moment just happened to be zombies. Zombie movies and books were coming out faster than the gays. And I'm not being a homophobe either. I had plenty of gay friends, but once you joined the legions of the undead you really weren't considered anyone's friend anymore… or gay for that matter.
Anyway, back to story time. This die hard zombie fan takes his obsession to the extreme and decides that hey, I want to live in a world where cannibalized corpses try to shred me to pieces. Thus, the end of the world commenced. What the whack job did was create a virus that cuts off all the functions of the brain except for one: hunger. The hunger amplifies everything, including locomotion, strength, and adrenaline. So they never tire, never falter, and are always at their peak; pretty much impossible to compete with but we make do. I guess it kind of helps that there is nothing even remotely cunning about them. I'm telling you, they're about as dim minded as a burned out light bulb.
Sadly, no one paid much attention to the cons of a zombie apocalypse; they chose to be ignorant of its dangers. Not that I can blame them. Raiding stores of everything you could possibly dream of seemed pretty glamorous and who would want to taint that with thoughts of dying? When the world went to shit, everyone did the initiative: loot the malls and break any rule they could. It was a druggie's fantasy world. But when the allure wore off and people finally woke up and smelled the rotting flesh, it was by no means a dream come true. If anything it was nightmare. The world was enveloped by chaos and there was nothing that could've been done to stop it. Law enforcements were a joke and everybody went about their business freely, going as far as murder. Not to mention the decaying cadavers that we frequently had to dodge. This was no heaven on earth; it was a hell of colossal proportions.
This new hell, that even Satan would've been wary of, was tough to survive and I doubt we would've made it if we weren't well prepared. It was a small consolation that we incidentally readied ourselves for this tragedy and sometimes I hated myself for it. If I hadn't have gotten involved in the zombie trend maybe that would've lessened the fuel to the lunatic's bizarre delusions and this catastrophe could've been avoided.
It was all supposed to be a joke. None of us thought it would actually come in handy. Every Saturday, we'd dedicate ourselves to a pretend zombie survival course; one that we'd created ourselves. It was pretty basic. All we really did was spend half the day paintballing and then the other half we'd spend in a mock sword/knife combat. I guess you could call it larping but it was too much of a nerdy term for me to be keen on using. That's how my gang and I came to be. We were all just buds of common friends with a mutual fondness for reanimated carcasses. Our crew was made up of Blake (my one-of-a-kind best friend), Daniel (my pyro of a little brother), Stacy (Blake's quirky twin sister), Cisco (Daniel's equally mischievous childhood friend), Lulu (whom, despite the name was a tomboy at heart), and finally me: Rory. Daniel, Cisco, and Lulu were all 12 while Blake, Stacy, and I were 17. I have to say though, if the nut would've settled for role playing like some nerds (i.e. us), this sort of predicament could have been avoided.
Unfortunately for us, nothing useful will come ever out of wishful thinking, so it's best not to dwell on what was lost and instead focus on what there is to gain. The virus is running its course and we can only hope that we are able to endure its hardships and outlive the things that ruthlessly hunt for us.
