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Marla sighed. Break time was over. She retrieved her laptop and got to work.

Taylor and Kyle passed a bottle of bad whiskey back and forth, their thighs and bottoms growing cold from the log they sat on. Katie and Brock made out in the backseat of Kyle's car just behind them. It was their official end-of-the-world party and so far it hadn't gone how Taylor hoped.

Kyle was helplessly in love with Katie, while Taylor was helplessly in love with him. Brock was just happy to have someone to bone. The whiskey she stole from her dad's stash helped, but didn't sooth the burn completely.

Overhead the moon was almost full. She stared at it in her liquor-induced state and wished for Kyle to make a move on her, too. Instead he sat, staring into the forest beyond the campfire. Taylor inched towards him, making sure her leg brushed up against his, and followed every tip Cosmo ever offered a girl for hooking up. None of it worked.

But t
he whole thing was an excuse to get together and do things she'd get grounded for, so even if she didn’t hook up with Kyle she still got to drink and maybe smoke some weed. Mildred, Montana was close to North Dakota, but so in the middle of nowhere that she doubted the virus would get there. Nevertheless, they brought a baseball bat and machete and joked about killing some zombies, feeling like a bunch of badasses. She couldn’t wait to tell Natasha about it at school.

They aren't zombies
, her little sister said.
They are sick people!

Taylor rolled her eyes and left for the night
, climbing out of her bedroom window. They were zombies and it was the apocalypse. Plain and simple. It was cool.

"Hey, did you hear that?"

Kyle pushed himself off the log they sat on and took a few steps forward.

"I didn't hear anything."

"Listen."

Down the slope ahead of them she heard twigs cracking, but that wasn't anything unusual. They were in the forest a few miles outside of town; there were bound to be animals.

He picked up the baseball bat they'd painted the words
Zombie Killer
on and said, "Go get Brock."

Taylor got up but only took a few steps towards the car. "I don't want to," she whined. "Not when they're all over each other." They had the windows rolled down. She could hear them going at it.

"I just heard it again. Taylor you—"

Two people came running up the slope. She couldn't believe how fast they moved. Their bodies and eyes glinted in the campfire as they closed the distance between them, like they were wet. She thought they were pregnant women until she noticed the close cropped hair and realized they were men with huge bellies.

"Run! Run to the car!"

A spike of adrenaline coursed through Taylor’s veins.
They spun and made a dash towards the car. Taylor took one glance behind her and saw another handful of people—
zombies
—run into the firelight. These ones didn't have the big stomachs.

Kyle tripped behind her. She heard him go down but didn't turn back.

"Wait, help me!" he yelled.

She made it to the car and jerked the passenger door open.
Brock was frantically trying to start the car, but it wouldn't go.

"I can't drive a clutch!" he said over and over. "I don't know what to do!"

The car made a series of clunking noises as he turned the key.

Taylor looked out the window. Some of the regular zombies were on Kyle, beating him and biting him. The rest were almost on the car.

Katie was in the backseat, half naked and sobbing as she groped around for her clothes. Brock abandoned trying to start the car and was halfway out the door. Taylor wished things had gone differently.

The rest of the zombies were finally at the car. The normal ones went straight for Brock, but the two pregnant looking ones shoved their stomachs through the windows.

One of them was laughing, singing the words to Ring Around the Rosies, his voice gleeful.

She closed her eyes as their stomachs exploded, launching t
housands of worms into the car.

***

When Taylor went home, it wasn't to give her mom a hug and tell her she was okay. It wasn't to report the deaths of Katie or Kyle or Brock.

It was to kill her family.

The second she woke up in the front seat of Kyle's car, covered in blood and ooze, holes all over her body where the worms burrowed into her, she wanted to kill her family. Really, she always had. They cramped her style, never let her do what she wanted. It's just that now she could see clearly. Now there weren't any feelings stopping her from doing what she really wanted.

Her legs were stiff. She found her hands convulsing, head twitching to the right every time her left foot hit the ground. It was hard to walk. She wondered what was wrong with her, but the sensation was fleeting.

Kill mom. Kill dad. Kill Libby. Killmomkilldadkilllibby.

Her mantra was at full blast in her mind. Soon it blocked any rational thoughts she might've had left after waking up.

The hardwood of her porch slapped against her bare feet. Taylor heard her parents yelling her name as they came to let her in.

Killmomkilldadkilllibby
.

They couldn't stop her. When she ripped mom's throat out with her teeth, some of her skin got caught in her braces. Daddy carried a gun but he couldn't shoot his little girl. He dropped to his knees and sobbed as Taylor pounced on him, pressing her thumbs into his eyes until she felt them burst like smashed grapes.
She bent down and sucked up the mush from his eye sockets.

Her little sister escaped through the open front door, but Taylor caught her. "Where you go
ing, little girl?" she screamed. She put her foot on her sister’s chest for leverage as she tore her arm off. "Where you going?"

Once the blood stopped squirting from Libby's
shoulder where her arm used to be, Taylor stood. Down the street the Biver's lights were on.

Kill everyone
, Taylor thought, taking Libby’s arm with her.
Killthemkillthem.

Dom lived in a quiet neighborhood. There were many elderly couples in the senior citizen complex next to their apartment building. Across the road was a strip mall with a pawn shop, a Rite Aid, and some beauty parlors. Living on the outskirts of Seattle meant a somewhat less crowded population, more space, and dinky little shops no one cared about.

The perfect place to swarm for resources.

He wondered if there hadn't been a sporting goods store there, would the neighborhood have fallen into chaos as fast as it did? The lure of survival goods and ammunition was probably overwhelming to the frantic urges of desperate people. With its huge parking lot, it was easy access. If Dom lived in Seattle proper, he’d travel far to try places like this, too.

Then again, he did when he went across the bridge to Wal-Mart. And it resulted in two near death experiences.

Brian had been keeping an eye on the street after they saw a news report on a roaming gang of looters in the area when two men parked their trucks and headed for the store. They both had a handful of friends with them, but it was obvious they didn’t know each other.

When the groups spotted each other, they approached the doors to the shop with hesitation. They gestured to one another. Hands up in front of them
in the universal gesture for peace.

At first it seemed okay. They tugged at the doors—locked, since the store didn’t open until mid-morning—then seemed to discuss something for a while. One must’ve said something the other didn’t like, and that’s when the first punch was thrown and the two groups merged into a brawl.

After the first punch landed, it went downhill from there. One pulled a gun on the other, shot and killed him, and then everyone gave up on talking or being rational. No one could ever be the hero, not when the whole city was turning against each other. Eventually someone broke the big display windows in the shop and they started scrambling in like ants.

From there
, people driving by stopped and entered the fray. Some of them headed straight for the shop. Others entered the fight; whether to try and stop it or take a side, Dom wasn’t sure.

Dom couldn't look once the rioting started. Brian updated him every ten minutes on what was happening. There was something about the ragtag group of neighbors fighting each other that made his gut tighten and his head spin. Soccer moms, people still in work clothes, and even a few that were definitely too young to be there.

"They finally broke the doors," Brian interjected, breaking him from his thoughts. “But they’re still using the windows.”

The fight spread to the Rite Aid. They were looting the stores and fleeing back to their apartment
s or vehicles. Despite Dom telling her she shouldn’t, Chelsea joined Brian in watching from their fourth story view.

It was like a videogame. They were so displaced from it, it started to become surreal. This wasn't reality. They weren't across the street from people hammering each other's faces into the concrete, shooting each other. They weren't waiting to see who lived or who died.

And it most definitely wasn't the end of the world. 

***

Dom couldn't remember what town the incident happened in. He couldn't remember what news channel he watched it on, what he'd been watching before, or what happened after. All he could remember was the sight of the naked bodies hanging from the overpass in Montana.

The camera panned across the bodies one by one, each of them mutilated with holes and gashes in their bodies, rope tied around their necks. When he saw the two children side by side, intestines looping out of their small
stomachs, he heard Chelsea turn, dash into the kitchen, and retch into the sink.

"It's…it's hard to watch," the news anchor choked as the footage ended and was back on him. His face was white, eyes flat. "Reports of violent, insane acts are showing up all over areas that have been infected. Officials have reported that in some cases, infected individuals are exhibiting signs of complete insanity. These individuals cannot be reasoned with. They can be highly manipulative. We have Erik Eskilson from the CDC with more details."

It cut to a gruff man standing against a gray background. A CDC badge hung against his chest. "The rate of infection is progressing rapidly. Though the CDC does not have all the answers, please rest assured we are working nonstop to figure this thing out. What we originally thought was some type of infection similar to rabies, is actually a parasitic infection that is transmissible through even the slightest contact with infected bodily fluids. The parasite is a type of worm that utilizes the host body to replicate and mature. In its smallest form it is microscopic. They can grow up to two feet long at the biggest."

The shot cut to photographs of white, slimy creatures with rulers next to them for reference. Dom felt confusion sweep over him. Why were they just now revealing that it was a parasite? From what he knew about parasitic worms, they made you sick and
could eventually kill you after they took over in your intestines. That had
nothing
to do with the bodies hanging from the overpass.

"When a healthy person comes in contact with the parasite, they fall into a coma. This is the incubation period the parasite needs in order to try and take over the host body. From this point the public is aware of the symptoms such as the yellow, foul sweat. If the host isn't capable of bearing the worm to full maturity—the big ones you just saw—they release chemicals that cause imbalances in the brain resulting in unusually cruel and violent behavior. But please remember,
they are still carriers
of the parasite. Some of them can almost pass for healthy, but
they are not
. The hosts who do bear the parasite to full maturity will rise and attempt to find a densely populated area of unaffected people before…"

The man looked at his feet, then up at the ceiling as he took a deep breath. "Listen, there's no other way to put it. They find any way they can to burst their chest cavity and stomach, releasing the parasite into the world. The parasite is relatively fast moving and can burrow through skin in moments. The only way to stop this is to stay away from any form of the parasite. Stay in your homes, stay out of the streets, and do not attempt to rescue anyone who may be a host."

The channel cut to another official who rattled off new procedures, but Dom was already holding Chelsea in his arms and didn't listen to a word he said.

This was unreal. This was worse than fucking
zombies.
You knew a zombie when you saw one. But crazy people? People with worms in their bodies waiting to
explode
on you?

Brian came from his room, a look on his face saying he'd learned of the news, too. "Do you think they're still hiding anything from us?"