Survival of the Fittest

Ch.1

so this started off as the weirdest dream ever, and just because I liked it so much I turned it into a book. the start is rather boring but I promise it'll pick up!

enjoy and don't forget to vote and/or comment please! xx

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C H A P T E R    1

So on the night of my sweet 16th the world kind of ended with a Boom. Both literally and figuratively speaking of course. The year doesn’t really matter, or maybe it does, but the last time I checked it was 2020. My birthday was on February the 20th and if I counted correctly that was 289 days ago.
289 days of pure, utter hell and craziness.

289 days full of death and destruction.

And I’m not being dramatic here; after all, the apocalypse came a thousand or so years too soon, there are zombies running around eating people, living or dead, and those that made it out alive have formed colonies and groups.

Those said ‘colonies’ and ‘groups’ being filled with total jackasses – I learnt that the hard way.

Anyway, my name is Samantha, and I am a survivor.

Wow, I’m so lame.

With introductions over I’d like to say that the only reason I survived this shithole is because I have common sense and a previous ability of knowing how to keep my head down and stay unnoticed – I’d like to thank my school life and parents for this.

And with that said, now’s the time to focus my whole attention on the activity that I’m doing as of now: stealing a car so I could finally get the hell out of this damned city of Melbourne. Fortunately, there are no living-dead around at the moment so with my gun tucked under my arm as I went from car to car it made things a lot more easier as I squinted into cars to look for a decent one. And by decent, I mean, one that isn’t cracked to shit, obviously broken, or have dead people that were caught and are half-eaten. Literally.
Shitshitshitshit, I couldn’t help but panic as I heard something not too far away, causing me to freeze instantly and turn my head slowly to where I heard it, hand at the ready as I touched my gun.

Okay Sam, now’s not the time to be picky about the cars.

Waving off the sound as nothing for the moment I quickly ran over to the car least broken and smashed up, wrenching open the door and holding my breath considering the person – or what was left of them – was dead and vomiting maggots, left eye and nose gone and skin dried up and peeling. “Sorry… uh, sir-ma’am… thing… I need your car,” I murmured touching its’ last piece of clothing gingerly with a grimace and yanking.

Realising I accomplished nothing and had to man up a little I dragged in a quick breath, squeezed my eyes shut, grabbed its arm and jumped back and yanked at the same time. Covering my mouth and opening my eyes at the same time to stifle my disgusted scream as the thing landed by my feet, its’ smell grotty enough it’d make a zombie puke.

Okay, probably not, but as I got into the ute and shut the door as securely and quietly as I could I gagged about a million times as I bent over and started the car using the key that was still in there.

Please have gas please have gas please have gas. I begged no one in particular as I twisted the car key once, eyes closed.

And… success!

“Go Sam, you got dis,” I grinned to myself not caring about the fact that I probably resembled a crazy person right now as I quickly sped away and drove and drove to nowhere in particular.