Prologue
I tightly clutch my backpack, hoping against all odds my perm will last for a couple more hours until the next bus-stop. Although, when the feeling of impatience comes rushing over me, I feel compelled to find my compact mirror by sliding my hand down and unzipping a small compartment.
In over a span of a few weeks I've somehow managed to accumulate a bag full of 'survival' goodies. This excludes my womanly necessities such as make-up, shark week plugs, and a can of hairspray that has more than one use. Think personal flamethrower with a lighter lit underneath.
My fingers trace familiar grooves of a flat circular case. I pluck it out to see the fake gold it's plated with has remained unscathed then flip it to the other side to a pair of Japanese geishas dress gorgeously in multiple layered kimonos and their hair done up in traditional manner. It wouldn't be until a few seconds later that I'd unlatch the clasp with one hand while firmly resting it on the palm of my right.
In horror, I stare fixedly at my reflection, frantically playing with strands of my short sakura pink locks. I made absolutely sure they'd fall beautifully around my slender face. When I notice the dark circles under my hazel colored eyes, my plump heart-shaped lips form an even deeper frown.
I want to look my utmost best before I make a surprise visit to my boyfriend, David. And trying to avoid blood splatter from daily bashing in zombies skulls isn't a feat either. I can't keep track the number of times I've nearly got saliva or other bodily fluids on me.
That's why at our last stop I took it upon myself to cover my clothes with a plastic parka. The last thing I need now is to have my plaid mini skirt decorated with zombie guts. So adding the sleepless nights and following the no makeup rule until I'm standing physically in front of Bae was beginning to cut into my feminine ways.
I won't even think about the last time I had a decent shower. The thought alone made me shudder in my seat. Perhaps we might stumble on a truck stop with working showers?
I eye the other passengers, excluding my friend Willow and Nate sitting behind me, they all look terrified. My gaze drifts off at one elderly woman in particular. In her hands, she holds a sturdy bible the size of a hardcover Harry Potter book. I remembered her since she liked to preach every time we chose to stop somewhere.
She'd force people into prayer circles that I somehow always missed. Oopsie. My bad? In this time and place she had set her sights on a new target she wanted to convert into religion. She clicked her tongue in disgust at a teenager sitting a few seats up wearing a Rob Zombie hoodie. He crouched over his seat, his head facing down, and his leg kept bouncing up and down.
'Must be a nervous tick.' I thought to myself.
Either that or the old coot's disapproving glares were beating him down. Or, I guessed as he glanced at what he had in his possession, he was having serious withdrawals and needed a quick fix stat. I shook my head now, feeling like I could relate to the old bat.
This was not the right time to be a druggie. If he didn't get clean and sober up real quick he'd have more than just zombies to face. He'd have his own demons to contend with. That's if he could survive long enough before going insane. After all, sanity was a luxury nowadays.
When the bus jerked, hitting a bump in the road, I turned myself sideways. There was a little girl huddled in the corner at the very back of the bus. Her actions often reminded me of a feral cat.
Every noise or sudden movement caused the child to jump. No one dared approach her either, thinking it might be better to give her space for whatever ordeal she must've gone through. Other people I noticed were too busy worrying about loved ones to care about who they were riding with.
After getting my fill of people watching I pulled out my phone to snap pictures outside the window. It wasn't meant to chronicle the carnage as most of the people speculated. No, my reasoning was much more simpler than that.
The shutter went off, making a small click. A tiny muffled yelp reached my ears. Without turning to look, I knew I had once again scared the girl. I let out a sigh and rolled my eyes. There wasn't a single thing I could do to encourage the young child to lighten up a bit. Even if I wanted to.
I skimmed through photos, noting the ones that had city limits in them. Since we've run into areas without service, as a precaution, I bought road maps and took hotel coupon books (They had smaller sized maps) to calculate how long it would take us to get to our destination. We've taken so many detours and pit stops that it was getting harder to tell if I'd ever see my boyfriend.
Thinking this made me even more depressed. I turned in my seat, praying Willow and Nate weren't locking lips again when out of nowhere the bus driver screamed something. It was incoherent at first yet a rush of excitement that started from the front worked it's way to the back.
The bus began to swerve to one side, screams and cuss words were thrown into the air then silence. It was as if everything was in slow motion. I held tight onto the rail of my seat yet my palms, slick with lotion I had applied moments ago, caused my grip to loosen. I slammed hard against the floor of the bus. My chin hit the ground first, pain coursing through me as I saw stars and bit the tip of my tongue.
Minutes which seemed like hours went by.
Regaining my senses somewhat, even as we continued to skid across the road, I watched the little girl's small and fragile body fly up to land hard on top of a middle-aged man. Luggage fell on top of them. Curdled screams caused my head to look up front at the damage.
My eyes went from one person to another. Some had only minor scrapes, others had broken bones protruding out their skin. Most met a instant K.O. Given the apocalypse was upon them, it became luck if you died without getting eaten alive or killing yourself first.
"This seems strangely familiar" I say aloud to myself.
Memories start to flood in my mind. For a split second, I wonder if I am dying then realize I was having flashbacks. The shock took hold as memories start to replay back to me.
Yes.
It was all coming back to me.
I can still recall when all Hell broke loose...
It began simply with a flat ironer.
