Unexpected Events

By all accounts I am a clumsy, flannel wearing, leggings loving, high pony tail hair style, awkward lesbian. Not that any of this really matters in the grand scheme of things, but it should be duly noted considering that the very last thing that I am is an athletic, gun toting, sword wielding badass.

That was until the apocalypse hit.

I always thought that it would be natural disasters of some sort, or maybe a plague like illness, or something close to the Christian or Nordic end of days where the world ends in fire or ice respectively, anything at all that could be something much more logical than the stereotypical zombie outbreak, but alas I was mistaken. I mean come on who really watches those movies and thinks that sort of thing is actually going to happen? It always seems so cliche, so implausible, so absolutely ridiculous!

Anyway, the outbreak hit yesterday out of nowhere. There was no warning what so ever; not a misplaced stone or an animal acting unusual, not even an ominous looking cloud! One minute everything points to a totally ordinary day and the next the dead are rising from their graves biting, scratching, and bashing the skull in of any human unfortunate enough to cross their path. Before long bodies and brains littered the streets as people grabbed anything they could to fight the undead scourge.

I reluctantly dawned a shotgun, several daggers, a bow and arrow set, as well as a sword. As a result, I have spent the better part of the day slinging arrows, chucking daggers, and cutting off the heads of the undead until I could get to my current vantage point. Now I lay here on the top of the old drug store rooftop holding the shotgun in hand and trying my best to figure out how to aim and fire this unfamiliar weapon in hopes that I will be able to live through another day.

I look through the little site trying to line it up with the head of the closest zombie. I pull the trigger and pray to whatever God might be listening that I won't miss, but apparently there is no Gods listening considering I hit the ground several feet away from my intended target. I take a deep breath and try again with the same target; finding it surprisingly hard to hit such a slow moving creature as I instead hit the tree behind the undead monster drawing slowly closer.

They say that the third time is the charm, although I don't know who for as it wasn't for me. The fourth was no better, neither was the fifth. Frustrated and scared I braced my back against the concrete wall housing the stairs that brought me to this vantage point.

Come on, you can do this, you have to do this. I try to give myself a little pep talk until I finally feel like I can try again. I know that I can not rely on the bow and arrow alone so I slowly move back to the shotgun and try again and again and again until I finally hit a zombie, right in the middle of the forehead!

Scared that it was only a fluke, I aim towards the next target listening to the birds chirp as if they are cheering me on as I watch a carefree squirrel quickly race up the before mentioned tree, and after one last quick look through the site I pull the trigger.

I am shocked to see the undead creature fall to the ground with a bullet hole right between the eyes. I go for the next target, and then another, and another; until there is a yard full of the undead that are now riddled with well placed bullets rendering them truly dead.

I have done it, I have learned how to shoot a shotgun! I know that this is going to be the most important skill that I could have learned, but I also know that at some point the ammunition and food is going to run out. This knowledge makes me wonder if learning this new skill is actually going to be worth it. I mean is starving to death really a better option than getting your skull cracked open by those undead things? I guess only time can tell, but for now I need to focus on this small victory and hope that, in the end, everything will sort itself out.