I won’t bore you with details about my life before all this – it’s pretty boring, and mostly doesn’t matter anyway. We were all somebody before, but survival requires that you adapt, and that’s what I did. Sure I had a family, a job – all the accouterments and all the requisite drama that goes along with them. All of that changed, and now I am somebody else. I’m not better or worse necessarily, just different. I will tell you this though – while I do sometimes mourn the loss of parts of my former existence, mostly I’m happier and more balanced.

My sister ran down the stairs. All ninety pounds of her. Cyclopes Guy had actually gotten into the garage by then and was already inside the door to our mudroom by this point. I didn’t actually see her get bitten, but I heard the screaming. I ran down to see him attached to her neck, more like a vampire than a zombie, but when he noticed me he pulled back like he was surprised, pulling a chunk of flesh and veins along with him. Candice (my sister) clutched at the font of blood spurting from the wound and kept screaming. Old One Eye had set his sights on me. I looked around for something to defend myself with, I mean I did weigh more than ninety pounds, but I was still pretty sure I couldn’t take this guy without some assistance. There was a gun rack hanging on the wall, sans any trace of a gun, but it was close and made of nice heavy wood, so I pulled it down and as he moved towards me I swung back, like playing baseball, and hit him across the face with it. The effort was enough to slow him down, but he kept on coming, of course. It wasn’t until I wedged his head between the two shelves of the rack and then twisted up and back, wasn’t until I heard the bones in his neck snap, that he stopped dead (ha!) in his tracks and slumped to the floor, the weight of him bringing me down on top of him.