Anyone can join in to continue the story, but don't write anything like "Hannah Montana magically comes to the rescue via teleportation device, courtesy of The Jetsons." We are telling a realistic zombie story here. I'll start.
Shaun speeds down the empty city road in his shiny red Camero. He puts on some tunes. Boulevard of Broken Dreams starts playing in his CD player. He decides that's not the right song for the situation he's in right now. He decides to put on Give A Little Bit. He makes a sharp right turn and heads down Main Street. He drives a few more yards and makes a left. He screeches to a stop. "Oh...nooo..." he grumbles. There in front of him is a small group of zombies. They notice him and start limping for him. He goes into reverse, and continues driving down Main Street. He looks in the side mirror. The zombies are a mere speck by the time he checks. "Heh heh heh. They aren't a challenge at all for my speed!" He looks back up and screeches to a halt again. There in front of him is an even bigger group of zombies. "Hrm..." he grumbles as he goes into reverse again. But this time he puts the pedal to the metal and races towards the zombies. "Hoo-waa!!" he screams as he mowes down several zombies. He then turns around and continues driving towards the undead and smashes into several more. He continues doing this until all of them are mincemeat. Then he peacefully goes on his way down Main Street.
He arrives back home soon and parks the car and brings his shotgun and food he picked up with him into the house. He has all the doors barricaded so he hops up onto the sofa piled on top and climbs through a window on the second floor. From there he makes his way downstairs and puts the food in the kitchen. He then runs back upstairs and puts the gun on his dresser. Then he goes back downstairs and chooses what to have for dinner. Some beets and garlic bread should do it!" he decides, and starts cooking the garlic bread.