In a Zombie Apocalypse… Jim Survives. 

My heartbeat is in my throat. Breathe in. Breathe out. I stare at the body in front of me: lifeless, wide-eyed, scared. Breathe in. Breathe out. I’ve killed him. The initial plan was simple. I’d run away to the island. Everybody told me the zombies couldn’t swim! But (guess what!) they can! When I came to the realization that they could 1) swim and 2) were actively swimming towards my refuge, I had a sudden sense of deja vu to pop quizzes in school:  sudden, scary, and often totally unnecessary. WHY DO THE ZOMBIES KNOW HOW TO SWIM? I don’t even know how to swim. 

Where am I? Who am I? 

I sit on a rock by the shore with my head in my hands. I am alone on this island now. The others who had fled with me are gone now – they fought the zombies. Well, you may be asking “how are you alive then?” And I think that that is a very good question. The answer is: I was asleep. Getting to the island was exhausting – I had to maneuver a jet ski. Should I have thought of how exactly I would get to the island before I did? Yeah. Did I? Nah. 

Anyway, after my extremely fatigue-inducing journey, I went to sleep on my bed. In the little hut the others had built while I had figured out the jet ski. And while I tried to sleep, the others caused a ruckus outside. They had the AUDACITY to be fighting the zombies while I tried to sleep. Continuing with my story, I finally fell asleep. Then, I woke up and it was quiet. Yeah, of course it was quiet AFTER I had been sleeping. I voyaged outside to find the others all… gone. Bad news: I think they may be gone…. permanently. Good news: There are no more zombies! 

Then, suddenly, a weird little dude who strangely resembles Lord Farquaad, starts wobbling towards me. I kick him in the head and he falls over. Welp. That was easy. And we are at the beginning… because… what have I done?