It’s been over a month since a botany experiment turned airborne virus was “accidentally” released. Within this time the world’s population has been cut down to just over one billion living people-the rest have been turned.
In the small town of Nowhere, Iowa a former second year drama student of nowhere community college is waking up. The first thing he does is grab his fully loaded colt revolver, pulls back the hammer, and puts the barrel in his mouth. He closes his eyes and puts pressure on the trigger. He sits for ten minutes before finally acting. He releases the trigger, takes the barrel out of his mouth, and puts the hammer back into the safe position. He lets out a big sigh and puts the gun back into its holster like he does every morning.
He is Ted. Since the outbreak he has renounced his last name; he argues last names are symbols of civilization, which no longer exists. Now that he’s done with his usual morning suicide practice he can get to work; Today is a busy day. It is Saturday meaning he can’t play his usual game of backgammon against himself. He must go out for supplies and to empty his refuse bucket.
Ted grabs his shotgun and checks the area through the peep hole-no zombies. He releases the door latch, unlocks the deadbolt, and types in a random code into a non-existent keypad next to the door. Slowly he opens the door and points the shotgun otside. With a quick roll he exits the tiny shack that has been his home for the past thirty-seven days. He dumps the refuse bucket on the only still living tree for miles and begins his journey to the store.
With a series of quick sprints from alley to alley and a few dodge rolls to hide behind abandon cars he makes it to the store. Once inside he keeps his head low and is as silent as a ninja staring contest. He makes his way through the store and grabs whatever canned food he can get his hands on. He finishes up and closes his limited edition power princess bag that now full with food. He is about to leave the store when a loud, low grunting noise echoes through the seemingly empty store. With the shotgun in battle position Ted surveys the area for the origin of the sound.
He looks around for a couple of seconds before realizing his stomach is the originator of the sound. The sound is his stomach telling him he desperately needs to get to his refuse bucket.
“Crap.” Ted whispers to himself while grabbing his stomach with his free hand.
He can only last another two minutes and forty seconds before he springs a leak so he tries to come up with a plan. There’s not enough time to get back to his refuse bucket. He can’t go in a corner because they’re all filled up with similar excrement. Most of all he doesn’t want to go in his pants; they’re his last pair. He only has one option left but continues to think of an alternative when his stomach les off another growl.
“Screw it.” He says to himself.
Ted runs across the store and goes into the public restroom. Inside the only still standing stall Ted reaches into the holder that is supposed to be filled with paper toilet seat covers. He probes around inside the holder and comes up empty; well, not empty but not with a seat cover.
“They never freakin refill these things.” He says while wiping the stuff he did find in the holder off.
His stomach gives off one more growl to tell Ted that there’s almost no time left and he pulls his pants down and sits on the toilet. He proceeds to do his business quickly and is surprised that there is still toilet paper on the roll.
After finishing up, Ted pulls up his pants, grabs his bag, and heads out the door. Ted feels fine except for some mild itching in his rear end. He assumes that despite the lack of seat cover the toilet seat was clean and the itching is because he has very sensitive skin. Ted is wrong. Halfway home the mild itching turns to intense itching, the intense itching turns to a burning sensation, and Ted is knocked to the floor by the pain. He spends ten minutes scratching before he passes out.
The next morning he picks his head up from the ground. In the distance he can see four figures. He sees a black, bald man with a dress shirt and red tie, an old man in a green jacket and beret who pretends to be a veteran, a younger woman in a red jacket, and a tall white man in a black vest. Each one of these people is holding either a shotgun or an assault rifle and they walk very cautiously in Ted’s direction.
Ted tries to say something to them but all that comes out are a series of random growls.
“There’s one.” says the old man while pointing rudely at Ted.
The four then aim at Ted when a zombie comes from behind Ted and rushes toward the four. The zombie is yelling and screaming and in the panic all of the four gun totting survivors miss the zombie. The zombie then begins to rip the four of them into bite-sized chunks while growling loudly.
Ted pretends to be dead and tries to slowly crawl away when he notices the zombie’s growls are getting more coherent. He can even understand the zombie now.
“Stupid freakin’ survivors” the zombie says while eating the contents of one on the people’s skulls “one zombie shows up and they can’t kill it.” He takes another bite “they’re all the freakin’ same”
Ted stops when his stomach begins to rumble with hunger. He opens his eyes and can’t help staring at the pile of parts that used to be four people. He almost begins salivating when the zombie turns toward him.
“YOU!” the zombie says.
Ted curls up in the fetal position expecting to the next devouree.
“You” the zombie repeats, “why don’t you come over. There’s plenty to eat”
Ted then becomes very confused but takes the offer because his hunger is getting the better of him. He runs to the pile of flesh and begins tearing the meat off the bones and eating it. For a few minutes the two eat in silence. Ted ‘s hunger subsides and he immediately spits out the ear that was in his mouth.
“Why did I do that?” said Ted
“Do what?” said the zombie
“ Eat those people. People shouldn’t eat people”
“That’s true but neither of us are actually people so I think we’re good”
“What? What do you mean neither of us are people?”
“Umm- are you ok.”
“What did you mean?”
“Crap it’s your first day isn’t it?”
Ted said nothing while his brain tried to process what had happened to him.
“I’m a--“ Ted said “I’m a—“
“That’s right,” said the zombie “You’re one of us.”
Ted sank back into the fetal position and began rocking back and fourth.
“Don’t worry buddy.” Said the zombie “I’ll help you. My name’s Smevin by the way”
“Smevin?” Ted got up from the fetal position “is that your real name?”
“I don’t really know. But I like the sound of it so I keep it. What’s yours?”
“It was Ted”
“Was?”
“I can’t keep it now. My life has been flipped around. I am no longer Ted. From now on my name shall reflect how backwards my life has become. My name is now Det.”
“Det?”
“Yeah”
“You think Smevin is weird and your gonna call yourself Det?”
“Yes. It is to symbolize—“ Det was cut off by Smevin
“Yeah, yeah. You already said that. I guess if it helps you cope and you don’t flip out and kill yourself it’s cool.”
“Wait a second. Weren’t you trying to kill yourself when you attacked those people?”
“Yeah. I get a bit depressed when I’m hungry. I figure they’ll either kill me or I get a meal. Either way my depression is gone.”
The hunger then overtakes Det again and he quickly eats a leg. After finishing he offers Smevin a piece and Smevin eats it.
“So anyway.” Det says, “What’re supposed to do now.”
“Well,” says Smevin as me picks stray bones from his teeth “we just gotta keep going. We gotta live out our undead existence as good as we can. It won’t be easy but we can manage; all you gotta do is know when to attack and when to retreat. Think of it as playing a big game of red light green light, except with more bullets."