P.S. I Survive

Today is April 31.

Monday. I think. It might be Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Or literally

any day. I’

ve lost count.

The bomb hit around three days ago. The fumes are strong

enough to kill in an instant.

But that’s the problem.

The bomb doesn

’t kill, like it was supposed to. It turns people into

zombies.

You

’

re probably thinking, Oh no, not another stupid zombie story.

Yes. Another stupid zombie story.

But unlike almost every other one that you read about or see in

the movies, this isn

’t made up. And it didn

’t start with a plague or

anything.

See? This one is different.

Anyway. Ahem. Where was I?

Convincing you this story is cool, blah blah blah, ah yes. The bomb.

The reason I’m in this dillemma in the first place.

You see, there are three things you need to know about me.

1) My name is Eric Dalton.

2) I am a world renowned, Nobel Prize winning scientist.

3) I created the bomb.

But I didn

’t think this is what would happen to it. And I didn

’t

think it would turn people into zombies. This was not the plan.

You

’

re probably wondering: But how does a Nobel Laureate

scientist accidentally create a bomb that turns people into zombies?

Well that’s a great question. One that I cannot answer myself.

But I will try.

Two years ago, I was asked to create a bomb for the American

Military. I didn

’t want to do it. In fact, I refused at first.But then I was offered money. Like a lot of it. Like, 2.3 million.

And yes, I did get a lot of money for the Nobel Prize, but after

splitting it with my partner and paying for my 3 daughters'

collage

fees, along with other things, it had dwindled down extremely.

Was I in need of money? No. But did I want money? Yes. Of

course I did. Who wouldn

’t? And who would turn down 2.3 million

dollars? An idiot, that’s who. And if I am anything, I am not an idiot. At

least, that’s what I thought.

So I made the bomb.

I went to a military facility every day for 2 years to make this

bomb. I tested it thousands of times. I double, triple, quadruple

checked the measurements. It was perfect.

So what went wrong? I don

’t know.

I had my Nobel winning partner, Benedict Milar, check it for me

before I showed it to the military.

He said it was perfect, nothing out of place.

So I sent for the military commander who requested it.

Commander Arnold looked it over as well, thanked me for my

work, handed me a check, and off I went.

Everything went fine.

I didn

’t know what their plan for it was, and frankly, I didn

’t care.

I probably should have cared. At least, just a little. I should’

ve

asked,

“Hey, by the way, why did I make this bomb?” But noooooooo. I

didn

’t. And now thousands of people have wound up dead. Well, undead,

actually.

Are zombies dead or undead? Let’s look it up.

I reach for my phone before realizing, oh yeah, it’s dead. Like it

has been for the past three days.And there

’s no chargers in caves in the middle of nowhere, so I

can

’t exactly charge it.

My stomach grows, and a cramp shoots through my side.

I haven

’t eaten or had water in days. I should probably go find

something to eat.

I push myself to my feet, fighting the head rush that comes with

standing. I make my way towards the entrance to the cave, feeling the

walls to help me out.

After what feels like hours, light finally greets me.

I step groggly into the sun, the world around me green spots as

my eyes adjust.

I study my surroundings, listening intently for any sounds of

water. I hear none.

I sigh, trudging through the tall grass, hoping to find

nourishment.

The sun begins to set, slowly but surely, and I have almost lost

hope.

I’m about to turn back when suddenly I hear a whoosh of water,

like it’s falling over the edge of a cliff.

A waterfall.

On unsteady legs, I make my way towards the sound.

Finally, I see it. It’s beautiful. The water is a perfect aquamarine,

and the bushes surrounding it hold flowers in every color and… is that

food?

A blue ball hanging on a bush catches my eye. I rush towards it.

Oh thank God. There, hanging from a branch without a care in the

world, is a blueberry. A beautiful, plump blueberry.I shove it into my mouth greedily, feeling the berry pop against

my tongue, the tart taste filling my senses. I grab others off the bush,

shoving them in my mouth like I haven

’t eaten in days.

Wait, that’s a bad simile. I literally haven

’t eaten for days.

I also haven

’t had any water for days.

I tear myself away from the bush, rushing downhill towards the

water.

I drop to my knees at the water below the falls, scooping the

drink of life into my cupped hands.

I drink and drink until the parched taste disappears, leaving me

thirsting for more.

When I finally raise my head, the sky has gone black, stars

lighting up the world like little nightlights.

I gaze at the sky, finding a moment of peace in the chill of the

night.

“Beautiful, isn

’t it?” a voice behind me comments.

I jump, whipping around to find a man in a long coat standing

behind me.

“Who are you?” I ask, trying to hide the fear in my voice.

“Relax, Eric, it’s me.

” The man steps into the moonlight, revealing

himself.

“Benedict?” I ask in disbelief.

“What are you doing here?”

He ignores the question, instead stepping closer.

“I knew I would

find you.

”

“What?” I ask, taking a step back.

“I knew my plan would work.

”

“Okay, I know this is kind of leading you on, but what plan?”

“My plan to make you regret what you did to me,

” he growls,

stepping closer.“What did I do to you?” I’m very confused.

“You took credit for my creation! That Nobel should have been

mine!”

“It is yours. You have a Nobel too!”

“Yes, but whenever someone mentions my name, yours follows

right behind it.

‘We should use the quantum theoretic equation.

’ ‘The

one by Benedict Milar and Eric Dalton?’”

“I don

’t get it. Were you quoting somebody or pretending to be

someone talking or just talking? It’s not like this is in a book or

something. I see no quotes.

”

“You don

’t understand!” Benedict roars.

“It should have only been

my name on that Nobel Prize! Yours should have never been included.

Who pulled all-nighters to figure out the equation? Who gave up their

time, their social life, to dedicate every waking hour to figure out a

stupid equation? I did. Yet we both get the same amount of credit,

when what did you do? Nothing!”

I step back farther, my foot slipping and the toe of my shoe

catching in the water.

His face is bright red, and even in the dim light, I can see a vein

pulsing in his temple.

“What do you mean, what did I do? I came up with

the idea in the first place. I started the equation, and you finished it.

”

“It doesn

’t matter anymore,

” he says, shaking his head.

“It’s not

like I can go back in time and change everything.

”

“Well, no, that’s called time travel and it doesn

’t exist,

” I add.

“But what I can do,

” he murmurs,

“is end this once and for all.

”

“Who talks like that? Do you even hear yourself? You sound like

freaking Voldemort.

”

“Well, if I’m Voldemort, I guess you

’

re Harry. And this time, he

’ll

win.

”Benedict snaps his fingers. The sound seems to echo through the

forest, bouncing off of every tree in its path.

Slowly, zombies begin to crawl out from the woods, trudging

towards me.

“You see,

” Benedict continues,

“I messed up the bomb. I made it

so anybody in the area it hit would turn into the walking dead. I

thought it would be a more… entertaining way to die.

” He finishes with

a cruel smile, now surrounded by the zombies.

“Go,

” Benedict commands.

And I do the only thing I can think of.

I fall backwards into the water.