Through the looking glass of fate and destiny, the Talbot bloodline became ground zero for her revenge. There was the rise of the super-predator, Eliza, an infected vampire that found she could control the hordes and wield them to do her bidding. Too many others wanted to take advantage, to live out every sick and twisted fantasy that ran through their diseased skulls. Some wanted to help, stay human, keep sane. Civilization came to a screeching halt everyone still human went into survival mode. One moment normal stuff, next moment dozens of zombies, then hundreds of them, then thousands. It started more or less how I figured it would. The fucking seasonal decorations–the things that I thought were just about the absolute worst that could happen were, in hindsight, that which I missed the most. Now I can think of little else but that safe, sweet routine of family and wholeness I want nothing other than that life back. Maybe I had a little wish, just a quietly nagging urge to get out of that rut and take back some of those good times.

Soak, wash, rinse, repeat the rut got a little deeper every year. Then it was about kids going back to school, Christmas shopping, all manner of school events, every season’s multiple practices and games, summer vacation going by way too fast. Gone were the days of reckless partying, sports cars, perceived freedom, hanging with old friends, and God, I missed that easy time. Mortgage, credit card debt, expanding waistline…the slow siphoning of my soul through a silly straw as I sat for countless lost days in rush hour traffic. Before the z-poc, I was mired in the drudgeries of everyday life: job I could barely stand, paid barely enough to feed us and keep a roof over our heads. Obviously, I had created this farcical world long before I got married and had a family. There would be a massive underground bunker loaded with all manner of cool, military grade weaponry, and occasionally we would have to fight off some rogue people–all the time swearing and high-fiving each other because we were the good guys. In this fantasy world, our walls were impregnable, our ammo unlimited, plenty of food, beer, and buxom babes–sorry, hon. What the hell, wasn’t like any of us were going in to work the next day. I thought I was going to be with a group of my best friends, drinking beer on the roof of some sporting goods superstore, keeping score of the heads we blasted off from hordes of the undead, taking bets on who could kill the most, even playing take a drink every time you missed or hit or maybe both. Where does one begin when the end has already happened? The zombie apocalypse has not been at all what I’d envisioned.

Zombie fallout 11