My alarm blared, and I reached for the snooze button. "Get up Cal, you'll be late." My mother called from downstairs.
"Five more minutes" I mumbled, still half asleep.
"Don't you dare hit that snooze button." She yelled up. She knew me well. Sometimes that was good, and at times, like now, not so much.
As I dressed, I noticed it was raining, so I grabbed my sweatshirt, which I recieved for a birthday gift the previous month, and headed down to breakfast. My mom wasn't the best cook, but she had her moments. I should have been excited. It was my first day of highschool. Other kids would be jumping for joy at the idea that they would have so much freedom. I had a bad feeling that something would mess up my day.
"What's the matter? Why aren't you excited?" My Mom asked curiously as I eyed a plate of sausage.
"Oh, nothing. I just don't feel right." I replied.
"Are you ill?" She questioned worriedly.
"No, no, I just have a bad feeling about today."
"Well, don't worry about it." She assured me "I'm sure it will all be fine. Now, I didn't slave over a hot stove all morning to have all this food go to waste. Eat up."
"Yes ma'am." I said hungrily.
On the long and monotonous journey to school on the bus, I was happy to get a chance to talk with my friend Micky. When we had met a few years before, we had seemed to be interested in the same things, and we became good friends. She had a slight obsession with hand held weapons, such as knives and swords and she also owned a small collection of katanas. She had her swords, and I had my guns. My father was a marine, stationed at Camp Hathwood, so I was familiar with a number of sidearms and assault rifles. I also had a small arsenal in my garage. Camp Hathwood was a quarantine camp out in the middle of the nevada deserts, a few hundred miles from the infamous Camp St. Teresa. What was so infamous about it, I didn't know. But whenever it was brought up, everyone tended to avoid the subject. Everyone except Micky. I had heard a little about it in the news lately, and I was curious.
"Hey, Mickey, what's all this about some Camp St. Teresa?"
She looked suprised. "Haven't You heard? I thought everyone knew."
"Heard what?" I asked.
"They admitted that they lost some people. Well not exactly people."
"What? Why is that so important? And what do you mean 'not exactly people'?"
"They said they lost some zombies."
"Are you serious? Zombies?"
"I'm serious. They did a big news story on it. It was everywhere. I assumed everyone heard."
"Wow. I thought that 911 recording from California was just some joke, but now, I don't know."
After that, I stopped to think. I had my fathers 9mm in my top drawer for protection, but I didn't think I would ever have to use it. I was shook from my thoughts after we arrived at school. As I got off the bus, I thought about saving some food and water just in case. After the usual first day events, it was time for lunch. The school had invested in a T.V. that they put in the lunchroom, and it was set to CNN.
"After several Campion virus infected patients escaped from Camp St. Teresa last week, the governor of Nevada has declared a state of emergency. All residents are advised to stay indoors until authorities arrive. If you come to meet one of said infected, promptly head in the opposite direction. They will appear to be intoxicated, staggering clumsily, and will attack you if you get too close. We also have news from the CDC. Apparently, infection is now only transferable by bite. Stay tuned for more information."
Over the next few weeks, I began to stockpile food and water in my garage, and started gathering equipment that I would need if something bad were to happen.