The End

We haven't always lived like this. It used to be just Mom, Dad, Joey, Louisa, and I. Then things changed. People changed. Families had no choice but to move to safer areas, or, sometimes, to kill one another. It was better, they said, for their loved one to be dead than for them to be a mindless zombie.

That's what happened to Jack. He had a wife and a son, but they got infected. He didn't kill them, though. He moved. As it so happened he didn't move very far. Just across town, into our house. Dad knew Jack from work. Work was a bit of a moot point by then, and none of us had really left the house in weeks. So when Jack showed up on our doorstep, we couldn't help but let him in. I was the first one to realize that something was off about him, but when I told Mom and Dad, they shrugged me off, saying it was okay for Jack to be acting like that. His family had been taken from him. I disagreed.

Sean didn't have a family. His parents had died years ago, and he had no siblings. He never got married. He lived on his own in an apartment downtown. He had also worked with Dad. After Jack came, Dad made a trip to Sean's apartment to see how he was doing. Not so well, apparently. According to Dad, Sean hadn't eaten in a few days and he looked incredibly tired. Who could blame him? The infection was everywhere and nightmares were free. His apartment was a mess, which was very unlike him. Dad offered to let him stay with us, and Sean accepted.

Life isn't easy or fun. It's an obligation. Live, be a zombie, or die. The first choice has quickly become the most accepted, the one that everyone wants, and the one that everyone will do anything to maintain. It's scary as hell and sometimes I wish that I would get infected or just die. But, aside from my family, I have a reason to continue living. I want to see this epidemic through and help rebuild the world.