The Flip Side

Death. Death everywhere. Explosions, gunshots, screams and cries. That's what the normal is.

I wake up with a start, catching my breath from the horrifying dream. Oh wait. It wasn't a dream. Just a memory.

The world ended about a month ago. The zombies are upon us. Or whatever of us is left. The government lost control weeks ago. We were left hopeless for the dead. Literally.

My name is Anna Walker and I am 22 years old. According to Taylor Swift, (apparently spotted as a walker weeks ago) your 22nd year is supposed to be about finding love and loving life. But, so far my 22nd year has involved a lot of tears, pain, death and baseball bats.

I've been alone for a couple days. My baby brother died a month ago, my mom shortly after, then my sister, then my dad a little while ago. I walked in on him bloody on the ground with a suicide note. Apparently I wasn't cutting it for company.

My weapon of choice is my old wooden baseball bat, signed by Babe Ruth. Blood has covered most of it. I stole it a couple weeks ago from an abandoned mansion in suburban Atlanta. Right now, I'm living in a Volkswagen minivan (vintage, of course) with just a few cans of tomato soup left. I guess I'll do the usual soon. Choose a house, check inside, steal weapons and food then go live in a side road in my van until I die, or need more food.