The story.

I was in Arizona when a small outbreak happened in my mountain community area.
I had heard about some of the neighbors getting sick, and all sorts of horrible things.
Naturally, I didn't get along with many in the area, except for a few close friends, so I didn't care.

Well, one night, I was at home with one of my best friends eating frozen burritos and playing video games like old times, when I heard a scratch at the door.
I assumed it was one of my dogs, and not a (sub)human, so I opened it.

Much to my dismay, it was a psycho covered in blood. At a brief moment I thought it was one of the neighbors being an idiot trying to sink into my ego by dressing up like a zombie.
But...that horrible smell, the missing eyeball and the cold hands of rigor mortis going at my neck, was enough evidence that this blood stained jerk off was an undead fiend wanting to feed upon human flesh.
I held him back for as long as I could putting my right hand just underneath his jaw to keep it from reaching my body.

I screamed for my friend to help me, but there was no time to leave the sudden scene for a weapon.
But luckily, in the living room (where the incident occurred) there was a nice fire place poker.
My friend grabbed it, and lodged it firmly and deeply into the zombie's head, killing it off for good.

Luckily I wasn't even scratched, but that rotten smell that was now on my clothing didn't let me forget that we're in big trouble.
In our own freakish paranoia, we locked the house up as tight as we could, and tried calling locals to see if they were okay.

First we tried my friend's family......no answer.
Next, my mother.....No answer.

I would have called the family next door, but I knew they were done for because the zombie at my doorstep was the father....

We tried calling as many people as possible, even 911....nothing...well...911 had us on hold too long, so we gave up.
It wasn't until a couple of days later that we actually step outside the house as armed to the teeth as we could be, to see what had happened.

Every house seemed to be smeared in gore with several windows broken.
Not too long after venturing a little way from the house, we heard another zombie moaning in the sunset.
Scared out of our wits, (yes we were scared. We wanted to avoid as much confrontation as possible for we were low on a weapon supply) we ran back to my house, only to discover that leaving the door open wasn't a good idea....We spotted 2 of them in the house...fantastic.....

Not taking any further chances, we shut them in hoping that they didn't have enough operational skills to turn knobs.
But from there we were without shelter....
Just to stay as close to home as possible, we actually never left the vicinity.
We stayed in the shed.....

A couple of hours went by....My friend (who is a diabetic) needed his insulin and other medicines...which were in the house.... I was hesitant...but I knew i had to do something...Not knowing what to do, I started looking around for better weapons than what we had at the time..
Amazingly I found a barretta handgun in an "igloo" cooler with a full clip...I didn't know how it got there, who it belonged to, or WHY it was there, but questioning such a thing was unimportant at the time.

Holding the gun tight, I entered the house through the back door...moving very quietly listening for heavy, dragged foot steps....I heard none...So I quickly ran into the kitchen (which is basically where the back door is located if you exclude the miniature hallway that comes with it.) and grabbed the large gray ammo box full of medicine. (Yes, he kept his medications in a WWII ammo case.) I was about to run out the door as quickly as possible, but I remembered that insulin has to remain cold...so I tore through the refrigerator frantically looking for it...creating a lot of noise...

That noise alarmed the 2 zombies that were in my house, and they made their way to the kitchen.
Both emerged from the living room, coming into the dining room, coming into the kitchen...
I didn't know if I should shoot them, or run....
I decided to try to kill them...Of course my aim was a bit off so I wasted about 4 bullets hitting them in the shoulders and torso...I said "screw it" and ran back for the shed shutting the back door on my way out.

I made it back into the shed with everything needed, and we remained there in that one cold, musty room for over 24 hours trying to sleep, for we hadn't slept in 2 days prior out of fear...

We awoke the next evening around 6:00pm incredibly hungry, but not willing to risk going in the house for food.
To add to the trouble I never did shut the fridge....so the food went bad for sure....damn me....

A few more hours went by and we decided that we needed food....no matter what.
But as soon as we tried taking a plan into action, a zombie emerged appearing in the window...trying to force his way through... This was not either of the zombies in my house, for they were both female....but this stout muscular zombie would not quit...He eventually forced his way through the window, as we tried fighting him off (without the gun) to try and barricade it.
We succeeded but the zombie only made it's way around to the door pounding on it endlessly.

After trying to come up with more ideas we decided to push our way out of the shed, look for food in other houses, and return. Yes, RETURN TO THAT SHED. It took us a little while but we made it with little confrontation, only killing 3 zombies in the process.
We found and took what food we could carry while still being able to defend ourselves, and made it back....But there was a problem...one of us locked the door to the shed....You might think we could have gone through the broken window, but we barricaded it too much to fight our way through it...It would have just been wasted effort.
Damn.....this secluded outbreak really did make us clumsy....

Only having one idea left, I suggested we get on the roof.
We made it okay....but that clumsiness kicked in again, and I dropped the gun on the way up...
There were 2 zombies outside of my house and 2 inside....wow...how convenient...Their constant moaning had driven us mad....Mad enough that I was going to risk going back down to the ground, and getting to gun...Just to neutralize the noises so we could sleep AT LEAST more than one hour without being annoyed to death.

I made my way down, but was nearly taken by the 2 zombies.
Close, but no cigar...
I had effectively taken care of them.
Upon making my way back up to the roof I noticed I had a scratch on my arm and it was bleeding...I didn't know if the zombies did it, or if the shingles on the roof had scratched me....but either way...My friend was frightened.

We discussed what might happen, and what must be done.....
I was to kill myself. I didn't want to risk my friend's life, and I didn't want to gamble with the 50/50 percent chance of it being a zombie inflicted wound.

Though the decision was agonizing, I put the gun to my head....said "Goodbye bro......I'm sorry." and pulled the trigger.....but nothing happened....
It turns out that the clip was now out of bullets....
Although I was relieved in some sense, I was also disappointed.

I couldn't kill myself, I wasn't going to sacrifice myself to a blood feast, and my friend wouldn't kill me...
So we compromised.
I would sleep on one edge of the roof, while he slept on the other edge parallel to it.
If I made to many movements that night...I was a zombie. That was our conclusion.

We fell through with it, and went to sleep................................


I awoke the next morning.
Glad to be alive!
But, My friend....he...he was gone...
I called out for him. I looked for signs...I had nothing.

His medicine box was even gone.

Where? Where did he go?

That day, I found that the zombies all throughout he neighborhood had gradually made their way into the desert and the mountains.
I assumed that the areas were all safer than they were over the last 4 or 5 days.
Except for my house of course.

Assuming that my friend was either dead, or on his way to a safer place, I took no considerations as to search for any other friends or loved ones...
Over time, I had made my way into a small area in Northwestern Kentucky.
If I told you how I got here, you'd rely heavily on my source...and that source would not know how to handle all of you.
Sorry...

I've been here for 18 months without contact of my friends or family.
I plan on returning this winter.
And when I do, I WILL find out what happened to my friend.
I will find out everything.