Nine Weeks


The first three weeks were a living hell. Zombies, like something out of a movie. They were relentless, tireless and viscous. I even witnessed one go after a small child, the mother died trying to protect her daughter. Her sacrifice didn't do anything to save the girl, she should have saved herself. Those three weeks turned any of us survivors into hardened soldiers.

Then, something happened. Summer came. The zombies couldn't take the heat. I don't remember if it was one person, or a group of people all at once who noticed. Their bodies were starting to break down on them, suddenly they couldn't run without losing an a leg. It'd be a lot easier to smash in their skulls. The combination of summer heat, bugs with constant wear and tear, they couldn't keep going.

After that, things got a lot easier. Soon the zombies were a nuisance. Society rebuilt, and was able to work together to provide some relief to those in colder areas. We all agreed that cremation was probably the best way to go about disposing of corpses from this point on. Almost everything was the same as before things started. Euthanizing sick people became more common, healthcare became basically free because nobody wanted any accidental zombies running around.

I kind of miss that nine weeks of hell. No rules, do what you want. Now I'm back to working on rental cars for a living. They don't usually take anyone over thirty, but I might try to enlist. Go to one of the cold areas, fight zombies for a living. Maybe it's best I don't get caught up on trying to relive a brief moment in history. I wasn't that good at it anyway.

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