[Teen and New Adult Zombie Apocalypse Romance]
"If you would've told me the last day of our peaceful existence would be a boring Tuesday in November, I would've called you an idiot."
High school senior, Casey Whitmore, is about to discover her life...
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Casey
Waiting for the dead to attack ended up being the longest twenty minutes of my life.
Unsure of what to expect, I was practically hyperventilating when the shambling horde of hungry biters was only a few houses away. Zombies couldn't throw rocks through our windows or use weapons of any kind other than their own bodies, but it didn't make our circumstances any less terrifying.
When the group finally made it to the road in front of my house, it surprised me to see they were somewhat docile, at least for now. It appeared as if they were moving just to move with no designated stopping point.
The decaying skin on their faces wasn't easy to look at especially around their eyes and mouths where the heaviest rot had set in. Their red eyes were void of any white and appeared to be sinking further into their skull, making their eye sockets and cheekbones extremely dominant.
Some awkwardly sniffed at the air and attempted to bite at nothing as if a morsel of human flesh was hanging in front of them. Others were merely shuffling forward with their mouth wide open.
Derek and I watched as dead people of all shapes, sizes, and colors staggered aimlessly onward, groaning and moaning like a bunch of cows. There had to be at least seventy-five of them.
This virus had killed so many people and it didn't discriminate. There were kids, mothers, fathers, grandmas, and grandpas. And lucky for us, they were all taking a pleasant zombie stroll down my street at ten in the morning.
Derek and I knelt at separate windows with our guns aimed and ready.
"Have you seen anything like this yet?" I whispered, shifting on my knees.
Derek shook his head very slowly, unable to take his focus off the massive amount of zombies. "No. We've only seen the ones locked in their homes when we search for supplies."
Watching their rotting corpses as they shambled together made it hard not to question where they'd all come from.
One grandpa slowed almost entirely and stuck his nose high in the air. Grandpa's head rotated in jerky movements, telling me he was sniffing the air.
A little girl walked in front of Grandpa. She couldn't be over six or seven years old. Her princess butterfly dress and ballerina flats told me all I needed to know. She hadn't been sick and in bed when she changed. Someone had attacked her.
A flaming ache tore through me at the memory of being bitten. Mrs. Cunningham's teeth scraping against my bone had been awful, but the infection had been worse. Within minutes after she'd bitten me, I'd become so sick I couldn't get out of the tub.
My eyes wandered over the little girl, stopping on the bite on her ankle. She must've been trying to get away when she was bitten. She didn't deserve that, and neither had I.
