Can You Survive the Zombie Apocalypse? Read Online Free Page A

want to embarrass yourself.
    You find some still edible food in the kitchen. You make the best meal you can—peanut butter and jelly on Ritz crackers with orange soda. You apologize, and explain that most everything else seems to have gone bad.
    You talk some, about what you’ve been doing, how she’s been. She doesn’t work at the flower shop anymore; she’s a cashier at the local Target now.
    â€œNothing wrong with that,” you say.
    She frowns from behind her cup of soda.
    â€œI didn’t mean it like that.”
    â€œIt’s OK. Things don’t always turn out the way we plan, huh?”
    â€œTell me about it.”
    â€œBut you’re in New York City right? I saw on Facebook. That’s exciting! I’ve never been.”
    â€œYeah, it’s OK, I guess—my rent is like, just, absurd.”
    â€œI still live with my parents, so…”
    â€œTrue.”
    You finish your meal in silence, then get the generator from the garage and get some power going. Together you go through the house. Looking for food, things that you can use. You watch old movies she’s never seen before. Play the same old Nintendo games you used to play when you were kids. With the specter of death hanging over you, you grow close quick.
    You’re outside playing Ping-Pong when Kim suggests you go for a swim in your parents’ pool. Um… yeah, only been waiting near twenty years to hear those words. You get to work skimming the pool.
    Kim steps out of the house in just her underwear.
    â€œI hope this is OK,” she says. “My bathing suit is all the way across the street.”
    Ohmygodohmygodohohhgohgdoghdoghodhgd…
    You try to get the words out. But all you can do is stare. She’s stunning.
    You stutter. “Sure, sure, that’s fine, of course.”
    That night you make love on your back lawn. Then you lie on your backs, looking at the stars. It’s like a movie. Nothing could be more perfect. Once again, you thank the Lord for the zombie apocalypse.
    You wake up with Kim’s head on your chest. A little puddle of drool has formed below her mouth. It’s cute. Imperfect. Human.
    You’re in love.
    You give her a nudge and a kiss on the forehead.
    â€œGood morning.”

    She looks up at you with her big doe eyes. “Good morning, you.”
    You. She just called you
you
.
    â€œI’m going to go try to find some stuff for breakfast,” you say, stretching. You stand and start getting dressed.
    â€œYou’re leaving?”
    â€œI’ll be back in a few,” you say. “Who knows how long we’ll be here, and we’re low on food.”
    â€œAnd toilet paper,” she says.
    Wow. Just conjured up an image of her taking a dump. And it didn’t gross you out. This truly
is
love.
    â€œAnd toilet paper,” you say. “I’ll be back. Lock the door behind me. Keep all the gates locked.”
    â€œI will.”
    You take the pistol. Three bullets left.
    Click here .

PLACING YOUR TRUST IN THE ARMY
    The hazmat guy leads you into the military trailer. Inside, machines buzz and hum. Men work, some at computers, others with test tubes. Along the wall are four see-through Plexiglas cells like you’d find in a modern prison. Three of the four cells contain one civilian each: a child in the first, a young, normal-looking guy with a shaggy beard in the second, and an elderly black woman in the third.
    The last cell is empty.
    You’re starting to regret your decision.
    They lead you to the fourth cell. The hazmat guy types a code into a keypad on the wall, the door opens, and he shoves you inside.
    In the cell next to you is the elderly black woman. You try to get her attention, but she’s too busy sobbing.
    After the first hour or two in the cell, you begin to bang on the glass, trying to get some attention. Nobody notices—soundproof, you guess. At one point, one of them sees you. He taps another