Alex was a normal electrical engineer working in 2025. Life was good—until May 30th at 7:30 p.m. Alex had just arrived home from a long shift and switched on his TV.
"Breaking news from right here in Portland, Oregon. Reports are coming in of people encountering mindless, rotting corpses walking downtown. They seem to be extremely hostile. Avoid at all costs—I repeat, avoid at all costs."
I looked at the TV in complete shock as the words left the news anchor's mouth.
"There's no way I'm gonna believe this." I suddenly burst out laughing. "I can't believe they almost got me with that BS," I said, slowly calming down.
"Well, I might as well head off to bed," I added, slapping my palms onto my knees and pushing myself to my feet. But as I stood up, a blaring alarm suddenly rang through the air. I looked toward the source.
The TV was now displaying an emergency broadcast from the government.
"Warning: All residents of Portland, Oregon. Your town is now under strict quarantine. Please remain inside. Zombies, as seen in modern media, have mysteriously started appearing in your general vicinity. I repeat: Please remain indoors until the situation is under control. We are attempting to subdue all infected individuals. If you think you might be infected, do not—under any circumstances—approach others. Thank you for your understanding."
As the TV returned to static, I realized the gravity of the situation.
"W-What? This has to be some sort of sick joke. This can't be happening." I tripped over nothing. As I landed, I clutched my head in my hands and started sobbing. After about ten minutes, I was snapped back to reality by the sound of helicopters flying overhead.
I slowly crept over to my window and lifted one of the blinds.
"Oh my God," I whispered. The streets were lined with people, slowly shambling about.
I watched as my neighbor, Brenda, walked outside with her husband's pistol and opened fire on a few of the undead.
BANG, BANG, BANG. Three zombies fell to the ground.
Then a distinct clicking sound broke the eerie silence—the easily recognizable sound of an empty gun.
As the gunfire stopped, the undead began moving again, slowly at first, then faster. Unluckily for Brenda, they weren't as slow as she'd thought. She ran for her door, but the zombies sped up from their earlier shambling to a jog, easily catching up to her. Just as she placed her hand on the doorknob, one grabbed her arm, pulling her to the ground.
As she was pinned down, one of the monsters grabbed her wrist and pulled. After about five seconds, all you could hear were Brenda's screams echoing through the town. They ripped her apart—first her arms, then her legs, and finally her head.
"She's gone," I whispered, falling back onto the floor. My eyes were still wide with shock. The image of the kind, older woman who once brought me cookies being torn apart was still fresh in my mind.
"I-I gotta get out of here," I said, terrified. I ran for my room, grabbing my bag full of electrical supplies and my backpack.
Then I heard the sound of helicopters heading back this way—directly toward my location.