We all knew it was going to happen, but we just didn’t know when. As I laid there hiding under my bed, I heard the scratching of the zombie nails on my door. They wanted to eat me!

I had to act fast or the end of me was coming. Suddenly, my life flashed before my eyes; seeing the memories I created with my family and the soon to be future. Trembling in fear, I remember my family is still in the house. I swallowed my uneasiness, crawled from out under the bed, grabbed the emergency knife from my desk drawer, and started murdering the dreadful, brain-eating zombies. One-by-one they fell to the floor as I slashed them with the knife I had in my desk drawer. Each killing had a different amount of adrenaline that flowed through me. My attractive neighbor that lived down the street had turned into a zombie and, unfortunately, I had to kill him for my survival.

As I killed the final zombies that remained in my room, I made my way to my parent’s room. Being an only child was a benefit to me, not having to save another person from this dramatic zombie takeover.

I finally made it to their room, finding them curled up in a corner poking the zombies surrounding them with a broom. I sliced the heads off the terrible zombies and made it to my parents. Praising me for saving them, we began to walk downstairs to collect the supplies from our emergency cellar. The supplies included: a jug of water, a tool box, a quilt, and my father’s gun. At this moment I was overjoyed to see the gun sitting there next to the box of emergency items. Adding the gun to the emergency box was the best idea that my dad has come up with in a while.

With supplies in hand, we walked outside where I lead our family in slicing the undead demons. We were trying to get anywhere but here because we were definitely not going to risk our lives in this town. Ashtabula, Ohio has always had bad luck: our mayor died of a heart attack only two days into his term and we had a food shortage last year. If this zombie apocalypse didn’t happen it was probably going to be something just as bad. Ashtabula was literally the most unsafe place in Ohio.

We were walking past the local gas station, killing zombies left and right, when we ran into our neighbors from across the street that I absolutely hated. They had the same expressions that my parents had when they were trapped in the corner of their room.

“Is everyone okay?” they asked me.

Not paying attention to them, I noticed graffiti on the window of the gas station. It looked fresh to me as if someone had just vandalized the building. The graffiti read “MOVE QUICKLY TO THE WEST! THEY’RE COMING!!” Thinking if this could be true or not, I realized that my nuisance for neighbors were still talking to me.

“Nadia? Are you in there?” One of them asked as they giggled at their own joke.

“I’m fine.” I responded.

“We were terrified when me and Bill got trapped in the corner of our bedroom. I was sure we were goners, but Nadia, here, saved us from being eaten from those monstrous creatures.” My mom mentioned.

I was thinking about the writing on the window of the gas station. Could going west really be the safest place to be? I could feel zombies running up behind us. In the moment, I made the decision to let the zombies eat my parents; as much as I loved them, I couldn’t deal with the extra baggage in this situation. I stood there as they were being devoured; it made me sick to my stomach. Along with my parents, my atrociousneighbors were also being eaten; this made me smile to myself because I never really liked them anyways.