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Mechanical Failure (Zombie Short Story)

May 10, 2013

It’s hard to believe that just a couple months ago my biggest worry was the starter on my truck. The pickup was only a few years old and it was in great condition, but it had begun to stall on me every now and then. I finally had to have it towed one morning when I couldn’t get it to start. I should have gotten it fixed right then but the mechanic was able to get it running and I really needed to get to work for a meeting. I made an appointment to bring it back, but it never happened. It’s been running pretty well since then so I’ve decided not to ditch it for something else, though I could have my choice of any vehicle in town. I think I’m the only one left alive.

I always figured that the world would end with a nuclear blast but I was wrong. I had some friends that I used to talk to about the steps we’d take to stay alive through various doomsday scenarios. Most of these weren’t very interesting to discuss because there’s really nothing you can do but pray if the planet gets sucked into a black hole or if a supervolcano erupts. A zombie apocalypse, on the other hand, was always fun to talk about because it was something you could possibly survive and because it wasn’t real. Imagine our surprise when it actually happened.

I think one of the reasons that so many died in the beginning was that they just couldn’t comprehend that it was real. Part of the reason I’m still alive is because I’d played the scenarios out in my mind so many times that I was able to set my disbelief aside. As soon as the first stories hit the internet, I jumped into action, just to be safe. I filled the house with food and drinking water while most people were still nervously laughing about the odd news reports coming from Lansing, Michigan and Salt Lake City, Utah. I was able to get some good survival items online before those sites were flooded with orders. Some of what I bought even got to me before the mail stopped coming.

After hearing the first reports, I waited almost a week before I had bars installed on our front windows and door. At the time, my husband thought that I had lost my mind, since the reports were still only rumors back then. He was upset that I’d spent such a big chunk of our savings and he told me that I was going to be sorry when we couldn’t afford to go on vacation next summer. I said that I hoped he was right and then I asked him to go to Lowes with me to pick up some cinder block, rebar and mortar. He did it but he wasn’t happy about it. I remember him asking the cashier if we could return the supplies if we didn’t need them. I used them all.

In was late August when it finally became obvious to everyone that the plague was real and that it was spreading. Outbreaks were occurring all over the country, and rescue centers were set up in schools and churches. People rushed to them in droves, thinking they’d be safe. They were so wrong. Anybody that knows anything about a zombie apocalypse knows that you don’t want to be in a big crowd when the stuff hits the fan.

My husband tried to talk me into going when the plague first hit our little town, but I refused. We had a pretty big argument about it and he finally left, slamming the door behind him. He’s back now. I almost wish that I had gone to the school with him that day, because it’s torture seeing him out there with the rest of the dead.

 ~to be continued~

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