How To Survive A Zombie Apocalypse

How To Survive A Zombie Apocolype- Three

I drove down the street as fast as the car would go, very aware the zombies from before were still following me. Between trying to drive for what must have only been the fifth time in my life, watching out for zombies and most importantly, trying not to stall the damn thing, I didn’t realise I was lost until I was way to lost to retrace my steps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shouted, hitting the steering wheel.

The street I was on seemed to be deserted and it was so tempting to get out and make a run for it to one of the building surrounding me, just hole up there and wait for all this madness to pass. I didn’t though, that would have been a bad idea. I looked around me and nearly cried with happiness when I found a road atlas. I flicked through it until I had found where I was and tried to make some kind of plan. The small track I’d been aiming for didn’t seem to be recorded so that was out. I took the pen that had been lying on the dash board and began to try plot some kind of route. I decided to drive parallel to the main highway out of the city, but far away from it… Through the desert. I know it doesn’t sound like a good idea but honestly it was the best I could come up with at the time.

The tricky bit was getting from the highway to the dessert, ideally I didn’t really want to be going on the highway at all but there wasn’t much choice. Though a few miles down the highway there was a small turn off that led to what must be a tiny shack or cluster of house. I used dashes to show where I wanted to go then set off as I heard the growl of zombies way to close to me.

“fuck sake.” I muttered before stepping on the gas. As I drove out into the desert I was surprised to find wetness on my cheeks. I looked at my reflection in the windscreen. I was softly crying, tears creating clean tracks in the dirt that had somehow gotten onto my face. I let myself cry until I saw the first of the major rock formations that were now my life line. If I didn’t concentrate I could end up dying in the desert. Lost and alone.

My route was long and probably saved my life. I was out in the desert for about two weeks, surviving on the tiny clusters of civilisation that dotted the desert, they were usually deserted, or there were very few zombies. I came across no people though. Finally, just after Moapa I joined route 93, heading towards the small town of Caliente. I’d never heard of the place until I saw it in the map book. Maybe it hadn’t been touched by the virus and they still had planes going back home. See at that point I didn’t know just how bad things were. I’d only seen a few miles out of Vegas. I’d taken the majorly long way round, the journey, if I’d stuck on the highway, shouldn’t have taken longer than a couple of days if that.

As I rolled cautiously into town, my last hopes of a contained epidemic were crushed. Even from the outskirts I could see smouldering buildings and the old shells of burnt out cars. Blood covered the road along with the bones of the deceased, tiny scraps of flesh still clinging on. I swallowed the bile rising up my throat and pushed on. I needed gas and the nearest station was too far back for me to make it. I rolled down my window a quarter of the way, just to make sure if any zombies came sniffing around, I’d hear them before they ate me. I heard nothing though and before I could do anything to stop myself, I’d relaxed. Trust me, it’s not something I’ve done since.

I came to a block in the main road and had to drive into a more residential area to get around. That’s the first time I ever saw a group of zombies not in  the middle of a feeding frenzy. These were sluggish and slow, like the ones from the scrap yard, only slower and clumsier. There were seven of them, some crawling around the street on all fours, some were sat against buildings but most were stood up, swaying slightly or wandering aimlessly, one step a minute.  

As soon as I turned onto the street they all looked my way, eyes becoming filled with the same hunger as their siblings in Vegas. With unsure movements they began to stumble towards me. I put my foot down and ran over most of them that were on the street, two of their heads cracked either on my bonnet or on the tarmac. I remembered to roll my window up only when one of them tried to stick their hand in when it had grabbed onto my wing mirror.