Autobiography of a Zombie

The Author

Jack woke up at the usual time, now equipped with his new diary and a pen. He travelled down his now familiar path, and met up with the now familiar face. Rose skimmed the cover and smirked, trying to decipher Jack's face.
"It's not actually a diary, it's just to make sure no one will read it." Jack assured. Rose rolled her eyes, and accepted the pen from him.
Jack sat and watched Rose write for hours, he figured it was best to read it all in one sitting. It was fun to watch her expression change and imagine what words she was birthing in ink.
After a while the sun met her eyes and she turned the pen around and wrote in the dirt instead.
"More tomorrow."
Rose closed the book and Jack took it back. This time Jack lingered for a bit, semi-curious where Rose was hiding during the day. Rose caught wind of the stalker and gave him a glare until he retreated.
Jack figured he'd read the entry on the way back, but when he saw how many pages long it was, he decided it would be a bedtime story instead.

After hiding the journal under his pillow, he met up with his dad.
"Morning kiddo." Stan greeted. "Rick told me some new folks came yesterday, I figured we'd meet them now that they're settled in."
"Really? Let me get changed!" Jack excitedly replied. He switched from his pajamaish clothes to his goodish clothes and they made their way out.

The walk to the trailer was awkward, memories of the last time they attempted to meet neighbors flashed through Jack's mind, but he had a feeling it would be different this time. Jack's nose was greeted with some umami smell, and he heard murmurs in a language he didn't know. When he caught sight of the family he noticed a pregnant woman and a son, about his age. They were both Indian. The woman looked over and smiled.
"Greetings, my name is Madhu. This is my son, Tahir. It is nice to be meeting you." Her accent was as thick, but her smile was sincere.
Tahir tried not to make eye contact with Jack, and Jack was too preoccupied with his father. Stan internally could have been foaming at the mouth, but he still was determined to put on a smile and be polite.
Stan simply didn't trust people of other races, and Jack was aware of this from many a drunken rant. Stan believed the virus was caused by the mixing of foreign and so called "white" diseases to create a punishment.
Jack stayed in school long enough and watched enough news to have learned the virus was a government experiment gone wrong, but he couldn't convince his father.

Jack snapped out of his thoughts and introduced himself to save his father the trouble.
"Hi, I'm Jack, and this is my dad, Stan." He stuck out his hand and Tahir shyly accepted it. His hair brushed out of his face and Jack noticed his eyes. They were an emerald green rather than his mother's oak brown. They were also filled with a kind of warmth that couldn't help but make Jack blush. Tahir blushes as well and said something to his mom in their tongue, before retreating to their camper. His mother smiled and explained.
"He wanted to make sure dinner wasn't burning. You want to stay and eat?" She offered, politely.
Jack could feel his dad's arm vibrating.
"Sorry, we've got a pot on at home too, maybe tomorrow though." Jack meant to offer politely.
"Tomorrow it is!" Madhu confirmed with delight.

Jack led Stan back towards their camper.
"I'm not eating their food. I'd sooner eat after a zombie." Stan stayed bluntly. "You shouldn't have offered."
"I'm sorry I was just trying to be polite." Jack whimpered.
"And it will be polite. I'll wake up sick tomorrow and won't be able to come. I suggest you do the same."
Jack thought again about Tahir and looked away from his dad.
"I can't do that, I'll go tomorrow."
"It's your funeral."

When he was sure his dad was asleep, Jack pulled out the journal. It wasn't exactly what he expected.

Hello. My name is Rose. I was one of the first infected. My father worked for the government so I was in D.C at the time the infection started. I was in public when an infected broke free and began to rampage. I thought it was just some weirdo so I attempted to fight back and it bit my fist. I would have kept fighting but government officials handcuffed him and knocked me unconscious.

I woke up in a hospital chair, I was being pumped with some blue liquid with numbers written on it. The heart monitor was blaring that my heart rate was too low, but I wasn't dead.

The workers seemed just as surprised to see me as I was, I noticed their guns were unholstered. They knew the moment they saw my face, those bastards found a cure.