Introduction

As the sun breaks through my window, I am stirred from a light sleep. My arms go to cover my eyes, attempting to shield myself from the waking hours, but it is useless. I turn on my side in a second attempt to escape from the light, but, yet again, the resistance is futile. It didn't matter if I had steel-enforced shatter-proof glass on my windows, the light would always win over. I sat up in my bed, groggy, and wishing for more sleep, but I knew that I would never get a full night's rest when I lived in Zombieland.

The day started out like any other--I ventured into my greenhouse (which was also made with steel-enforced shatter-proof glass) and tended the vegetables and fruits that sustained my life, gathering the fodder and food for what few animals I had housed in my basement. There were two chickens, a rooster, and two goats. They weren't very much, but they helped keep my alive longer than I would have ever expected. After tending to them, I escaped to the watchtower until night-fall.

I sat in my chair, holding my gun ready, waiting for the mutated undead to come into view. Up here in the mountains, they were rare to find, but I was always ready. I wasn't going to let them take what little home I had left.

Several hours passed when the first zombie of the day appeared. This kind was literally the walking dead, his walk a horrible limp, his head unable to be kept straight. I brought the gun up, aligning the barrel to his head. Pulling the trigger, an explosion of blood came from the center of his eyes. For a moment he writhed in pain, his decayed muscles spasming and twitching. In no time, he fell.

I waited a few minutes before going outside, expecting to see another zombie come towards their dead companion. I brought matches down to the zombie with me, throwing random and discarded branches onto it. I struck the match, dropped it on the corpse, and watched it engulf in flames, the same exact phrase running through my mind.

Burn, bitch.