I didn't stand there and weep over the murder of my neighbour, like I did with Mrs. Nilly, now I knew what was really going on.
I shoved the limp carcass that at one time was a polo wearing (ironic, I know), SUV driving, golf playing douchebag that lived two houses down from me out the door. I then shut the door tight, making sure to engage the extra locks on the top, and went around to check the rest of the doors and windows.
Front door was shut, I remember doing that yesterday, but not locked. Lock and dead lock. A few windows were open in Mom's room, shut them, lock. Everything else was safe and secure, I even barricaded the fireplace with the living room couch.
Now that all was said and done, I had a safe place, and plenty of food since Mom went grocery shopping right before she left, I sat down, hugged my knees close to my chest, and started to rock back and forth.
"What the hell is going on?"
I tried turning on the TV a few times before remembering the power was out. I had too many questions and not enough answers.
When did the zombie outbreak start? How many people are left alive? Is Mom okay? Why did the power go out? How am I going to survive?
Okay, as for the surviving question. I break from my fetal position and run downstairs, since there's no light down here besides the sunlight now streaming through the open doorway, it's hard to find exactly what I'm looking for. I frantically grabbed anything and everything trying to find the distinct shape, until I found it lying on the floor near an empty soda can.
My lime green notebook with a Beevus and Butthead sticker on the front.
I bound back up the steps, and into the kitchen in search of a pencil.
Once I found one, a small black one with 'Friends of the disabled and eldery' printed on the side, I returned to my place on the living room floor, flipping through the pages of doodles and video game strategys until I found an empty page.
Okay, first, I'll make a map. Of the house.
I sketch the basic shape of my house, adding in rooms, doors, windows, and the back and front yards. I made a small seperate sketch of my basement next to it, and added basic map things like a legend and compass.
Flip to the next page, and draw another map. This one of the cul-de-sac. There's my house, Mrs. Nillys, Mr. Polos, etcetera, etcetera. And the streets, of course.
I look over my handiwork, and decide it's acceptable. Not sure how it's supposed to be useful, but it was fun to draw.
New page. This one...Game Plan.
All video games have a basic plot to them. Kill all the zombies, rescue the princess, defeat the wizard, find the cake, that sorta stuff. What's my plot? Kill all the zombies, and rescue my mom. Maybe get some cake, too.
Okay, maybe just rescue my mom, wherever she may be. Killing zombies seems like too much work, I'd rather just survive peacefully. Yeah.
Maybe kill a few of them.
So game plan. I start to make a list of things I need to do.
- Find out where Mom is
- Go get her
- Eat cake
Simple enough. But how to find out where she is.
Cell phone? I whip out my cell phone, and turn it on.
When I get emmersed in video games such as City, I tend to turn it off so I don't get interrupted during something important.
Five voicemails? Somebody's popular...
You have  new voicemails. Press 1 to-
Hi, honey, I'm at the store, and just wondering if you want grape or appl-
Dude! I'm at the concert! You never answered my email saying whether or not you wanted to go, but they're playing you're favourite song! Listen!
We'l- Die of- Their kids- Comandeer- Wiv- Def-
Honey? You haven't been answering your phone, is something wrong? Our car got pulled over by these police officers, they say something's happening, but they won't tell us what. They say they're taking us somewhere safe, though, so don't worry. I hope you're okay, call me as soon as you can. Love you.
Theo? Honey, you need to pick up. Right now. We're moving again, they still won't tell us what's going on, but the safe place was...breached, or something. I heard someone say something about 'infected'. Please be safe. I love you, I have to go.
Theodore Juliard Fry! You get your lazy butt off that couch and answer your mother! You're worrying me sick!
I breathe a sigh of relief at the knowledge that she's safe, and think,
Well, Better call her back.