Prologue

Welcome to America! Or at least what used to be America. What used to be the land of the free, well, is now the home of the zombies. It has been five years since the virus struck; at first killing thousands almost overnight, but then one by one the virus reanimated the dead, turning them into hungry, mindless corpses. Hell bent on feasting on the flesh. Whether it be alive or dead. Human or animal.  If it was made of flesh it was dinner.

Quickly, we learned not to get bitten. 'Cause if you did you only had an hour to say your goodbyes. Though, for some, it took longer than the others to learn about how to kill a zombie. For the most part the virus attacks the brain of the living and thrives in the brain of the dead. Which is what reanimates them. So it is only natural that a devastating blow to the head is what should stop them. As for those who hadn't learned in time, they became lunch or one of them.

Big cities were the first to go. Transportation hub's everywhere made the virus international. As far as I know, there are no other survivors. I mean there might be but I haven't came across any. But what do I know anyway? I'm just a girl that had been forced into a bunker when this all started. And if it wasn't for the fact that we ran out of supplies about 2 years ago, I would have never seen a Z if my parents had had their way. But lucky me when my brother's had agreed with me; that it would be safer for the three of them if there was another set of eyes. That was when I realized just how fucked the world had gotten.

At sixteen, the world was at my fingertips. Getting prepared for the SATs dulled to this. Now at 21, I have to bury my father next to my mother. Who had caught a fever she couldn't break after the fourth year. Dad was trying to fight off a horde of Z's that came out of a building when we were scavenging a few towns over. Zakk and Jedd, my brothers, had to drag me back to the bunker. But they couldn't keep "daddy's little girl" away for too long.

So, here I am, with my brothers on the edge of the family farm. Sitting on top of a massive hill surrounded by the vast plains of Nebraska. In the distance I can hear my horse, Snow, neighing from her stall in the barn. I look at my brothers, who are only there to comfort me. But being here is the problem. And they know that. Which is why we're leaving tomorrow. Ironically, on the sixth anniversary of Z-Day.