Rachel the Author

United States

Tennis player, martial artist, nerd, gamer and writer with a crazy imagination.

Message to Readers

Okay, so a little free writing. I don't know how far it's going to go. It may be a book, it might not. Who knows? Any feedback is welcome.

Idiot's Guide to Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse

February 6, 2016

PROMPT: Open Prompt

Oh hi! My name is Ozymandias, but you can call me Ozy.
Of course, Ozymandias isn’t my real name, but in this world it doesn’t really matter. If everyone on earth was turned into flesh eating zombies and your parents gave you the most stupid and terrible name in all of history, you would want to change your name too. Get a new image if you catch my drift.
So, before you go all crazy trying to figure out what I’m saying, let me explain. Life pretty much sucks right now. It all started about two months ago. Life had been as normal as it could be what with school, and YouTube, and Anime Club, but then everything decided to go all batcrap crazy. Some genius thought it would be a good idea to create a serum to bring the dead back to life. Like that’s ever worked out well. Anyway it didn’t work out right-surprise, surprise- and instead of coming back to be a normal person, they came back hangry for humans. Zombies. Legit zombies. The old fashioned eat-your-brains-get-bit-you-become-one type of zombies
Now zombies are every true gamer’s dream come true, but after about a week, it gets old. Real old. Like, older than a rotten tuna wrapped in sweaty gym socks hidden in a dead body that had been decomposing for six months and had fallen down a trash chute. actually, that’s what the zombies smell like, so it’s actually a pretty sound analogy. Don’t get me wrong, it was interesting at first what with all the pansies trying to make peace with the monsters, but it soon lost its luster.
My point is that, at this moment, 99% of the world's population has been turned into brain dead, flesh eating horrors that  can run and are constantly trying to hunt us down for their next meal. It’s a miracle that I’ve survived this long. It really is. How is it that I, a scrawny, nerdy, has never been able to do a pull up his whole life, complete dork of a fourteen year old teenager, have been able to survive? My guess? All those zombie movie and videogame all nighters spent with my friends. And everyone else thought that they were useless.
Now, to come back to the present, not that I really want to. The sky above us is dark with tinges of pink and orange in the east. My best friend Tyler and I are crouched down behind a filthy 2015 Chevy Malibu and we peek over the hood of the car at the building before us.
“There it is,” Tyler whispers in awe of what he sees.
“Yup,” I reply, equally as quiet.
“Do you think it’s safe?”
“Nothing is ever safe any more.”
“But it’s just…”
“I know.”
“Even after all this time.”
“A McDonald's,” I breathe out the words like they are sacred. We gaze up longingly at the golden arches that mark the fast food chain restaurant.
“Are we really willing to do this?” I gaze at my friend’s slightly rounded face. He turns to me and gives me a buck toothed grin.
“Are you kidding man? After coming this far? Heck yeah!” he whispers excitedly. I nod silently. Our plan from the start had always been to keep moving, never staying in the same place twice, and leaving notes for fellow survivors that we hoped were still out there, but when Tyler gets an idea, he always go through with it. No matter how crazy.
While we had been traveling through central Wisconsin heading out West, we had found this very McDonald’s. To be honest, Tyler isn’t the skinniest guy around. He still has, what we call, a layer of baby fat that never really seemed to come off as he grew up, plus he loves food. I feel for the guy. I really do. Plus, I would kill to get my hands on a Big Mac so when he decided that we were going to ransack the McDonald’s for food, I just went on along with him.
The street the McDonald’s is on, is completely deserted, but I know better than to let my guard down. I’m hungry, not stupid. I grip my baseball bat tightly and Tyler holds his shovel. Hey, when the apocalypse hits, you gotta know how to improvise. I make one last check of our surroundings and then nod to Tyler. He nods back and we creep slowly around the car. We crouch down low and we sprint towards the dark structure.
We get to the doors, and I carefully pull on the handle. It’s locked. Quietly, I pull out a bobby pin from my back pocket and within a minute, I get the door open. Tyler grins at me and we step inside the establishment. Everything is dark, dusty and neglected. The old menus are broken and without light, the Happy Meal toy display is tipped over, and tables and chairs are strewn about all willy nilly. I smirk as I slide over the service counters into the kitchen.
The kitchen is surprisingly clean for being in such an abandoned state. There are no dirty dishes or anything. Tyler and I stay close to each other as we slowly work our way through the kitchen. Near the back of the kitchens stands a tall metal door with a latch. The freezer. Tyler and I look at each other.
“Jackpot,” we say to each other. We stride quickly over the door and I pull on the handle. It doesn’t budge.
“What the?” I pull on the handle harder and rattle the door. Still nothing.
“What’s the matter?” Tyler asks as I pull on the door, trying to get it open.
    “Door won’t open,” I grunt.
“Let me try,” Tyler says. I move out of the way as he tries the door. He gets the same result that I do.
“Give me a hand. We might be able to get it open together,” he grunts. I pull on the door with him, but to no avail.
“Maybe we could-”Click.
“Hold it right there! One more move and it’s hasta la vista for the two of you,” a female voice commands from behind us. The two of us freeze in our spots and don’t even dare move a muscle.
“Now, nice and slow, turn around,” the same voice commands. The two of us slowly turn around to see the dim outline of another person-clearly the person who spoke and from the way she is standing, I can tell she is holding a gun.
The figure steps forward into the dim light, her gun unwavering. The girl is short and looks to be about our age with reddish hair, green eyes and freckles, but her face is hard as stone.
“You have thirty seconds to explain what your doing in my McDonald’s before I blow your brains out. Go,”she says coolly. Tyler and I look at each other. This isn't even remotely close to what we had in mind.


See History

Login or Signup to provide a comment.