Not Ready to Die

“Two months. Two long months. That’s how long it has been since I last saw human life. My friends have all been infected by the virus and were forced to stay in Coachella. My guess is that they are all as good as dead now.” I released the record button for a moment and fought to hold back the tears. No time to be sad now. I sighed as one tear ran down my cheek before I pressed the RECORD button to my portable battery operated recorder. “I know there was nothing I could do to save them, but sometimes, I wish I at least tried.” I let out another deep sigh as I stared out the window to an empty road in a 2013 KIA Optima, which I stole about two days ago.

“Funny thing is, I remember when the city of Los Angeles used to be covered with moving vehicles and people roaming freely to get to where they need to go. When I was there two days ago, those vehicles are all now parked in random areas, destroyed, or inside of a building somewhere. And the people, were no longer people. Everything is so messed up, and I feel like the longer I am alone, the more I start to lose my mind. You may only be an audio recorder, but you’re the only friend I have left. You’re the only thing left to keep me sane.” I released the RECORD button once more. “And that’s the sad part.” I thought out loud.

It was time for some fresh air. For the past two days, I have been sleeping in the car, and I always wake myself up from the same dream.

I would dream about my life before the apocalypse even began.

My parents, whom have taught me so much growing up. Both of my parents are survival experts and know the ins and outs of every life or death situation, well almost every life or death situation. I’m sure they were never really taught how to survive a sudden zombie apocalypse, but so far what they have taught me seems to be keeping me alive just fine. My mother learned the art of boxing since the day she learned to walk. And my father was in Japan for ten years and learned the arts of Ninjutsu, Jiu-Jitsu, and the samari sword. He also sent me to Japan at the age of twelve to learn the same things. I came back at twenty-two years old and mastered all three arts, and I speak fluent Japanese.

Before I was sent to Japan, both of my parents spent every day of my life teaching me the ways of survival. I mastered archery, shooting, gun repair, boxing, hunting, making a fire, making shelter, reading a map and compass, and how to disinfect food and drinking water. When I came back from Japan, I was taught how to drive a car, a truck, a motorcycle, and a boat. Needless to say, I was a badass.


I got out of the car and made my way to the trunk. Opening it with the keys and grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the many I stole from a Wal-Mart back in LA. I then closed the trunk and sat on top of the car and checked out my view of LA from miles away. It was too quiet, no sound but the breeze brushing by.

It’s the middle of the afternoon so there isn’t much activity out from the zombies. As I sat there and stared out, I started to remember that day. The day the entire state of California went to shit.


I had just arrived at my friend Katie’s house. She was throwing a pool party for me for graduating community college. It’s not as big as graduating from a University, but it was a start. My boyfriend, Roger, was there as well. Rumors had spread around the party that he was going to propose to me that night. Katie kept trying to get Roger and me alone, and the moment we finally were alone in her house, the SWAT team broke down Katie’s door and took us all away. They repeatedly asked us if any of us were sick. Katie had been sick with the flu the night before, but none of us thought anything of it. As soon as she told one of the members of the SWAT team her condition, without further hesitation, Katie was shot in the head. From there, all of us were forcefully pulled apart from one another.

I fought out as much as I could and one of the members made the mistake of letting me go. Since Katie lived on a hill, I knew it was a dangerous route, but it was my only chance at freedom. I ran all the way to her back yard and hopped the fence. Starting a long and painful fall down the hill. When I finally reached the ground, I had popped my knee out of place, but that didn’t stop me. I limped as fast as I could, and the SWAT team members continued to fire at me from Katie’s backyard.

I took shelter next to a dumpster nearby and popped my knee back into place, quickly covering my mouth with both hands to prevent from screaming. As soon as my knee was back into place, I made my way over to my parent’s house, without getting caught. And thanks to this fall, that made me about eight or nine miles away from where I was.

When I finally made it over to my neighborhood, it was as quiet as it is today. Either the SWAT team had already evacuated everyone, or they were on their way to do so. I quickly ran into my house and called out for my parents. No answer. I went upstairs to find my mother had also been shot in the head. I also noticed blood had been spilt at the doorway of the bedroom and led out to the stairs. My father laid next to my mother face down on the floor. I quickly ran to him and turned him around, only to see that he had been shot once in the throat and multiple times in the stomach. I had burst into tears at the sight of both of them. It was an image that haunted me for the past two months.

Later on that night, the team had gone around and pretty much bombed every house in the entire neighborhood. I only survived because in our basement, my dad dug deeper and made a safe room for all of his weapons, ammo, food and water supplies.

I stocked up everything he had into four duffle bags. It was too heavy for me to carry, so luckily in another neighborhood nearby, I found a Jeep with a full tank of gas. The Jeep almost looked like mine. With that, I drove as far away from Coachella as I could. Along the way, I made stops at local clothing and drug stores to get what I needed. An apocalypse doesn’t stop periods. I would shower in abandoned police stations and steal more weapons and ammo. I also stole cross bows and arrows, and I would break into random houses and take shelter. In two months, I had committed more crimes than the state of California would allow me to if this world were still alive, including murder. I’m not going to tell you that in the entire two months of being alone that I never ran into a zombie, because I have. More than I could count. I manage to escape by a thread almost every time. Surviving a zombie apocalypse is definitely a job that you cannot accomplish alone.

And if I continue to remain alone, I give it a month before I am just as good as dead.

About three days ago, the battery power on my Jeep died on me. It amazed me that it made the two month trip, considering all the gas I stole from other cars just to fill up the jeep. The Optima’s a lot faster and doesn’t take so much gas, which made it a better choice. It was also jet black with tinted windows, so it camouflaged really well at night.

Along with stealing things I needed, I also stole things to help keep me sane. I stole CDs, notebooks, coloring books, pens, pencils, crayons, pencil sharpeners, video camera, digital camera, a laptop, batteries of all sizes, and a portable recorder. I know the electronic stuff was of little to no use to me, but it did help to have it when I would come across places that had some electricity left. I used the video camera to document the places I go. The camera to take pictures of anything I needed to remember as well as the zombies. The laptop to unload it all, and everything else just because you never really know when you’re going to need them. I would probably need the notebook for in case my recorder were to ever give out on me.



The sound of thunder suddenly broke me away from my deep thoughts. I looked up at the sky and took notice to the storm that was approaching. Time to move. The closest town to LA was Huntington Beach in the direction I was in.

I ran into the car and drove all the way, I only lost about a fifth of a tank of gas so I was still set.

When I drove up to Huntington Beach, it was even quieter than LA was. I made my way into a close by neighborhood, which was filled with nice houses, and decided to use one of them to take shelter. It was going to be getting dark soon, so everything I needed to unload and board up, I needed to do quick.

I stopped at a two-story house with an ocean view and unloaded the weapons, food, ammo and water quickly. By the time I had gathered enough wood to board up the house, I started hammering away, until I heard a voice off in the distance.

“HELLO? HELLO! HELP ME PLEASE!”

Notes

I know I am behind on No More Lies, No More Pain, but this story has been going off in my head lately that I had to get it out. Hope you DeathBats enjoy the first chapter! <3