Zombies were a thing of movies, right? That\'s what Lance had believed growing up, at least, but now at the age of 22, he actually had faith-- in zombies.
The first one he encountered was before the panic, in a seemingly normal day. The air was clear, sun filtering down through the skyscrapers, providing a patch of warmth here and there. Lance was waiting for the bus, already running late, but not having his own car to speed the process (who needed one in a big city, anyway?).
The man next to him groaned, sagging heavily against the painted metal mesh enclosing the bus stop. His skin was ashen, eyes sunken in. There was a burst open sore on his mouth, not tended to. Lance tried not to breathe, but had to, the rancid smell of the man hitting his nose.
He thought it was just another homeless man. Every year, the homeless were looking scarier and scarier with every year.
Suddenly, the man turned, leaning precariously towards Lance. Lance scooted as far away as he could on the bench, fishing in his pocket frantically for some spare change. Maybe that would distract the man?
With a hissed moan, the man opened his mouth.
Lance jumped, watching in horror as the man lurched to his feet, walking in shambling steps towards him. Lance ran away that day.
Since then, he had found out that you couldn\'t run away from all the zombies, not with the numbers of them around, and how they came out of the strangest places-- however, running did help in most cases.
Lance swung his school bag-now survival kit, over his shoulder, tightening the straps. It was warm out, but he still wore a long sleeved jacket, that extra layer of protection crucial. He had yet to hear anything about how long it took for the infection to hit, nor had he had much time to listen.
From everything he had read about zombies, from every zombie movie he had seen growing up, he knew that one place to go was the mall. The mall, however, was far away and the bottom level was open air, so that was not an option. The other was the superstore. There would be sporting good items (like basic shotguns, and if not those, then baseball bats) for the taking, as well as food, medical supplies, and new clothing.
Lance grabbed his skateboard from the corner of the small, run-down apartment, heading out into the daylight. He did not know he used to live there, only that the place was abandoned now, and his own apartment complex had a few too many zombies for his liking.
It was time to go to the superstore, and get ready for the long-haul.