Last Year's NaNo

For National Novel Writing Month last year I wrote a zombie story. I completed my 50,000 word goal before November 30, and then I put the story aside for a while to give myself a break from the marathon of writing but during the year I kept working on it until now I consider it finished. 

I'd like to edit it so it lends itself more to be easily read and to make it a better story in general. Once I'm done with that I don't know what I'll do with it, but it's fun to think that I actually wrote and completed a story. In my Word doc it's 109 pages with standard size font and all that.

Just for fun I thought I'd put up about the first page, so if you're interested in zombie stories then feel free to read on.

And then I recommend going to Amazon.com and checking out two fantastic zombie stories by Mira Grant called "Feed" and "Deadline". I'm waiting on the third book of the trilogy, "Blackout" to be released next year.

            I woke up for the third time that night. That must have meant it was a quiet night. I went and did my usual check of the area anyway. Bree was on the other side of the room staring out the window, hunting rifle resting on her lap. That definitely meant it was a quiet night. Usually she would be staring through the sight on high alert. Now that I’d checked on Bree I looked to my right. My own weapons lay there. One handgun, one machine gun. There was a golf club there too. The golf club was covered in blood, like most of our things we carried with us.

            “My watch yet?” I asked Bree as I rubbed at my eyes. I could feel the grit from my hands trying to make its way into my eyes and I had to blink to clear my eyes.

            “No. But you can get it. ‘Bout to pass the hell out,” Bree said.

            I slipped out of my sleeping bag and got to my feet. I slept in my boots so I didn’t have to worry about fighting with them in the middle of the night- learned that the hard way.

            Bree handed me the rifle and stretched. Her sleeping bag was over by mine and she climbed in, clothes and all just like I had been. I took her seat and pulled the stock of the rifle to my shoulder so I could look through the sight and out into the darkness. It was almost impossible to see anything but over the past weeks I’d gotten used to how to discern the real threats from those that my mind made up. And my mind was very good at making things up.

            About a week after all hell had broken loose I had been on night guard duty when I nearly got us killed. Bree and I had holed up in the first abandoned looking building we could find. We were both exhausted, cranky and on the verge of giving up and just laying down in the middle of the empty street. I had taken first watch so it meant I was looking through the scope of the hunting rifle that Bree and I shared and I was slowly scanning the street that I could see through the window. I didn’t notice that I was suddenly looking through a window of a building across the street rather than the street itself. Something moved and my nerves, which were already on the breaking point, made me react without thinking. I fired 2 shots at what my brain told me was a threat that was going to call its pals and get us both killed. Bree woke up immediately at the gunfire. After a rapid and panicked exchange about what was going on we realized I had just put two holes in a curtain that was moving in a breeze from an already broken window. Except that meant we could no longer stay there. I was sure Bree was as upset with me as I was with myself, but to her credit she didn’t say anything. I think she was too tired to say anything. Fortunately we cleared out of the area before things got hairy but I learned my lesson after that.

            For now I continued my search of the area I could see from our window. I alternated viewing through the scope and just my eyes to keep myself alert and make sure I didn’t repeat my mistake from weeks ago.

            That turned out to be a smart move on my part. During one of my scans of the street while the rifle lay on my lap something attracted my attention down the far end of the street. There were abandoned cars, trash, broken glass and other assorted items that littered the road but at the far end I saw something get knocked over. The crash made me jump just like most loud noises did lately. I grabbed the rifle and brought it up to look through the scope. Pieces of trash scattered from whatever had been knocked over. That’s when the crash was followed by the low howl that had been the stuff of my nightmares for weeks. I didn’t wait to see where the noise was coming from.

            I shot to my feet and quickly slung the rifle over my shoulder.

            “Bree! Up, get up, we’ve gotta go!” I scrambled to wrap up my sleeping bag. My other things were already stuffed in my small pack, I just had to affix the sleeping bag and grab my guns. Adrenaline had me fully awake but my hands were shaking slightly in fear as I struggled to move as quickly and yet as quietly as I could.

            Bree was awake from the moment I sounded my warning. Next to me she started to pack up as well, having scrambled out of her sleeping bag. I grabbed my handgun and shoved it into my pants movie style- I didn’t care right then about gun safety or the fact I could shoot my foot off. It was the least of my worries at that moment. I strapped the sleeping bag to my pack after fumbling for what seemed like eternity with the clips.

            “Come on, come on, move!” Bree urged me. Her pack was already on her shoulders with her shotgun held firmly in her hands. I looked up and slung one strap over a shoulder and grabbed my machine gun.

            “I’m set, let’s go,” I replied. Bree led the way out of the room we’d holed up in. We had planned our escape before setting up to get some rest and we left through a second door. It wasn’t the same one we’d come through when we arrived. The stairs were right outside the door and we raced down them as fast as we could without risking killing ourselves or running straight into the monsters we were trying to outrun. The last thing either of us needed was to trip and break an ankle. Even a simple injury like a sprain meant death in the new world we inhabited and just barely managed to survive in.

            We made it down the second flight of stairs and right away our pace slowed. I gripped my Mac 10 and stayed behind Bree close enough to not lose her in the dark but far enough away that we both had room to move and I could watch our backs.

            Bree pushed open the door we had jammed closed. I tried not to cringe too much at the excess of sound.

            Down the road we could hear the faint moaning and groaning.