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In the following weeks I lost count. Lost count of the date. Lost count of my death toll. Lost count of people who helped me and perished. Lost count of the zombies. Lost count of the corpses. I had not felt a bit of sadness for a month, before the crisis began. There is one day I will remember. One day that is burned into my memory. A day no one could forget.

I was strolling along a curvaceous mountain road, somewhere in the Appalachians, when the smell of death became quite apparent. It was a foul, odiferous, scent; I had come to think of it as old death. I moved swiftly to the finale, two corpses. This was rather ordinary to me, though these were rather unsatisfying corpses. They were both gutted, their insides torn to the surface. I glanced at the face of the cadaver, and noticed it looked like my mother.

Suddenly, I broke down. Tears poured out of my eyes. I sobbed uncontrollably and convulsed violently. Blood began to pour out of my nose. I fell to the ground and had about thirty flashbacks in the course of a second, but I felt each as if it lasted forever. I left my parents! They must be close to suicide without me! I cried for several hours, contemplating my arrogance. They could be dead! They could be walking the earth. The tears continued on into the night. Eventually I cried myself to sleep.

I woke up the next morning with my head in a puddle of mixed fluids. I took some water and cleaned myself up. I tried not to think of that past day. My eyes hurt from crying. I got up and walked down the mountain road. That morning was a particularly cold one, so fall must was coming. I needed to find a place to shack up for winter. I walked all the way back down the mountain and changed to a road that had an onramp to a highway. I was stunned to find no cars on the highway. Maybe the tragedy is coming to an end. Maybe everyone is a zombie except me.

I walked along that road for quite some time, hoping that I would find the name of a city I knew. With a few hours and no luck, I decided on Monroeville. This city also seemed strangely deserted, by man and beast alike. Coming upon a hardware store, I stopped for supplies. I found a pocket color T.V., which I took graciously. Next I stopped at the grocery store and got more food. In a few hours, I pretty much raided the town. I left Monroeville with a hunting rifle, new clothes, a med kit, and everything else I had previously taken. At least now I didn't smell like a foot.

I took care of myself from then on. I bathed in creeks and rivers when needed, wore deodorant, and changed clothes at every opportunity. Months traveled on. I shacked up in an old cabin somewhere in Ohio for the winter. I came near to suicide with abhorrent boredom. I did nothing but play cards all winter. I wished I had a woman, someone to keep me company. Someone to aid me. Someone to talk to me. Someone to engage in…

As soon as winter passed, I stepped outside. I saw a zombie right outside the door. I smirked, lifted my rifle, and blew his brains out. My quest for the unknown lurched on. Newscasts became more and more desperate. I watched in horror as the leaders of countries and states became victim to the crisis. I was evading cities more than ever now, walking along riverbeds and creeks. The woods are my home now. I live in peace and harmony with nature. I catch my own food and built an underground shack deep in the woods of Nebraska, or so I think. I say underground because I took the time to build it at the foot of a hill and cover it with dirt and leaves, my doorway a tiny crawlspace.

I stopped there. I feel no need to go further. I have attained peace. My days are no longer clouded with gunshots, explosions, or screams. I found living by myself to be the best route for me. I never saw another human being again. There was one final day when the crisis left me. Another day I will never forget.

I sat in my tiny oak chair and watched the news by the firelight. My batteries were running low, so this would be it for my updates. There were no world leaders, just the President and the Attorney General in heated argument. The tensions arose between them, and their patriotic backdrop was shaking ever so slightly. The more heated it became the more the backdrop shook. Their fight climaxed with the president screaming "THERE IS NO HOPE FOR THIS COUNTRY!" Just then the backdrop fell and zombies overtook them. My eyes glazed over as they kicked and screamed. Suddenly the sound went dead and they fell to the ground. They fell, mentally, and physically, with their insides torn.