If there was a time when his world wasn't some desolate wasteland, Nicholas didn't remember it. Actually, he did remember it, but it seemed so long ago even if it was only about six months prior. He didn't know when he started considering the world a wasteland. It seemed to be around the time his father died and his neighbors fled, leaving only his little sister, his mother, and himself out of the people he knew and trusted. For the most part, it had been his mother taking care of him and Alissa. She was much more experienced in all types of salvaging and physical labor than he or his sister were, considering his life was spent playing video games and Alissa was only ten. The three of them had stayed holed in their house as long as they could, but the more people died, the more monsters rose.

A zombie apocalypse was never supposed to happen in any version of reality, of that Nicholas was sure; not for real. It was meant to be something impossible -- a fantasy of nerds like him who thought they could fight for themselves even though they barely knew how to shoot a gun. Nicholas had personally never shot a gun in his life, and if there was one way to stop a member of the undead, it was by killing their motor functions. If it didn't kill them altogether, at least they couldn't chase you.

The infection had started sometime last year. In fact, the first known case was written off as a version of the common cold in a two year old. It was so overlooked because the symptoms were so mundane until they weren't. And when they weren't, it was too late. Whatever poison was in the infected's veins had already spread to their brain by the time it was noticed, and because the illness was so difficult to pinpoint, it spread like wildfire. There was hardly a declaration of a state of emergency before people were dropping like flies -- then rising. When they started rising, that was the problem.

Members of the undead, affectionately referred to then on out as zombies, were walking right out of morgues. Out of the hospitals they died in. The houses. Nobody understood it. No scientist or doctor could reason it. They didn't even have the time. People were urged to stay indoors and [i][b]do not interact with them.[/b][/i] It wasn't easy for the people who saw their deceased loved ones coming to the front door. Of course they'd invite them in.

That's how it got so bad.

Six months have gone by, and as far as Nicholas is concerned, the world is done for. In reality, it could only be his city for all he knew. After all, neighbors were fleeing, convinced there was refuge elsewhere. Somewhere north, they'd said. His father had a plan to pack up and head north, too. Before he died. Well, Nicholas assumed he'd died. After all, he hadn't seen him in over three months, and he doubted his father would really just leave them like that.

He didn't want to believe that.

The falling of autumn wouldn't have been so bad if there had been electricity, or heat in general. But it got lethally cold in the winter, and Nicholas wasn't sure how much preparation he could do. Not since his mother fell ill two weeks ago, her health sharply deteriorating each day. He knew it wouldn't be long before he would have to burn her body. He didn't know if he'd be able to handle that.

It was cool on the morning he handed his unused rifle to Alissa, but not unusually so. If anything, he was glad that it didn't seem like it was going to get colder in those months than is usually did. As he handed the weapon to his sister, she looked at him both like he'd lost his mind and with confusion.

"I'm going to go out," he started slowly, "and see if there's anyone left. Yesterday I saw a group heading towards town, but I...well, I wasn't sure if they were alive." He paused, taking his hands off of the gun. "Anyway, we need help. I don't know how much longer I can take care of us. I'm going to find someone who knows something about survival. Okay?"

The little girl's eyes were lost but frightened, and she nodded, "Okay." Her small hands curled around the weapon, and she looked back at their mother lying on the floor of the Walmart they'd taken shelter in, dirtying blankets and pillows bunched around her. When she looked back at Nicholas, she only said, "Be safe. I love you."

"I love you too," he said, keeping a stoic expression in the utmost attempt to hide his sheer terror of going outside. The good news was that the sun was up. They didn't seem to come out in sunlight.

He set off scouring the neighborhood, armed only with a shovel that would do little to no damage if danger arose, but he wasn't about to leave his little sister defenseless. For the most part, the neighborhood was empty. There were cats and dogs roaming between buildings that didn't seem to be infected. The vegetation had grown over and infested most of the houses. Any house that didn't seem to be abandoned seemed currently empty, whether because its occupants were out or some other reason Nicholas didn't want to ponder.

Then he came to a crumbling building, ruins of a house. He swore on his life he saw movement in the window. Quick, frightened movement. Feeling a ball of fear and anxiety in his stomach, he ascended the short stairs and slowly pushed open the door. It creaked loudly, practically hanging from its hinges. There was a short wall immediately to his right, blocking the view of the room he'd seen movement in. Brandishing the shovel, he inched closer to the opened archway. "Anyone here?" he called, brief and barked even though his voice wavered with fear.