I, David Hernandez, was being chased by my classmates. Not in the P.E. nightmare way, but in a “running for my life from carnivorous zombies that only have an appetite for human brains” type of way. I had been running for about an hour before I caught sight of my safe-haven, an array of blue, red, and yellow flags blowing in the air. I began to slow down, catching my breath.
My asthmatic self couldn’t believe how I had kept going for so long. I took a deep breath, savoring the warm, yet refreshing, sips of bottled water that I had managed to loot throughout the week. Suddenly, I was startled by the sounds of moaning and snarling.
I looked back, and the sight sent a chill down my spine. I was staring straight at a living horde of zombies. I still couldn’t believe it. Nancy Hargrove had infected each of my classmates, stopping by the teachers’ lounge for some appetizers. Now, the entire student body of St. Augustine High was limping towards me, rotten flesh and decomposed brains everywhere. I began to sprint as if my life depended on it, because it did. Taking ragged breaths, I got closer and closer to my, now, forever home. Over the trees, the sight of the bright yellow IKEA sign propelled me forward, providing me with unmatched motivation.
Without looking back at my assailants, I scurried towards the front doors, skipping stairs and hopping over signs, before I reached the large glass automatic doors, rushing in as quickly as I could. Once they closed, the sounds of the zombies grew faint. I was met with an abyss of displays, furniture, and escalators. I wasn’t worried, though. I knew my way around.
I found it strange that there were no employees around, or undead employees. Yet, my famished, heartbroken, starstruck, and utterly exhausted self had no time to ponder the contents of the Sweetwater IKEA, a place steeped in so many of my memories. Now, I was determined to transform it into the haven of my post-apocalyptic existence.
I rushed up the escalator, not waiting for it to push me upward. I ran towards the cafeteria. I hadn’t eaten in 3 days. I couldn’t help but crave sweet cinnamon rolls, or a juicy hot dog, or even creamy soft serve.
I ransacked the kitchen like a feral animal. I filled my mouth with anything I could find, eating most things frozen. I choked down the first supply of cold water I had seen since the apocalypse broke out. My parched throat was instantly cleansed, and my knees gave out in a food coma. But I had no time to wait and let it sit.
The next plan of action was to find an adequate shelter. You might think this would’ve been easy, given the fact that IKEA is crowded with a maze of displays and furniture. However, it was surprisingly difficult. My tolerance for sleeping conditions had drastically decreased. I tried everything from bunk beds to kings, ultimately resorting to those kiddy carnival sets made of cheap fabric. I remembered the one I had in my kindergarten classroom. It was completely and utterly mine. When we would get released for recess, I would tackle the other kids to get there first, locking myself in for the entire 30 minutes.
I went around the entire store, storing any blankets, sheets, food, and weapons I could find in my little area.
Night was approaching, and I could already see the sky darkening as the 7th day of the national zombie outbreak neared its end.
A whole week. For a whole week, I had been evading zombies, sleeping in rain puddles, and living off stale bread and the hopes of survival.
A whole week. For a whole week, I had been traveling to the nearby IKEA, just five minutes away from my house.
A whole week. For a whole week, I was in denial, contemplating the death of my family, friends, and my prospects.
A whole week.
As I thought away, exhaustion crept up on me, engulfing me like a flood, drowning me in sorrow. I dozed off, the lack of sleep catching up to me. Right as I was about to pass out, I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. But I wasn’t sad. I would say I was just miserable. But I convinced myself that maybe I could rebuild myself, one allen key at a time.
As I fell asleep, I finally noticed the deep, gaping wound on my wrist. I instantly recognized the shape. Teeth marks.
