I woke up with a start. Carlos was licking my face. I pushed him aside, getting out of my sleeping bag. The three legged dog mutt had too much of an obsession with licking me. My eyes fell on the .22 rifle leaning against the wall of the tent. I had grown fond of the weapon, considering it the only reason I was still alive. I knew it wasn't the optimum weapon for defending myself against them.

I might as well explain who 'they' are. You would understand more if I called them zombies, but a lot of the time, that's not what I call them. I normally just call them 'them'. The term zombie has not crossed my mind for a long time. Before the outbreak, media had depicted a zombie as a slow, rotten, undead figure. several video games have been made involving zombies, and I will admit that I have played a lot of them. Now I am out here - alone - with only my dog, tent, sleeping bag, rifle, and limited ammunition and food.

I yawned deeply, opening the door to the tent. The early morning chill overcame my body quickly as my eyes adjusted to the sunlight. I had set up camp in the middle of a valley, located in southern Idaho. I had been here only for a few days because I was forced to leave my previous camping spot by 'them'.

A bubbling brook bubbled lightly about thirty feet from the tent. Aspen trees stood magnificently in a nearby meadow. I was satisfied by the nature around the camp.

"Well, Carlos, I think we should be safe for now," I mutter to my dog. Talking to animals was almost normal given the anxiety of this age.

"We're in the most dangerous area in the country," I continued, "but they'll never find us here."

I grabbed my rifle and set out to guarding camp. I sat down and crossed my legs over each other. This world was hard for a 17 year old girl, but I had managed to manage. I looked at the inscription my rifle barrel, "John." The rifle had once belonged to my father before he was brutally killed along with my mother in an attack by 'them' in New York City. I had to pry it from his dead body as a 12 year old girl something no girl should ever have to do.

From the other side of camp, Carlos whimpered, as if saying, "Emma! Look!"

Thinking it was a chipmunk or something, I stood up, but kept my rifle with me. You always had to expect the unexpected these days.

I walked around the tent, looking for the problem.

Carlos began to bark into woods and I knew it wasn't a squirrel. It was something more dangerous than that, definitly.

I raised my rifle and began to stalk into the woods, Carlos at my side.

I heard the sound of snarling, scratching, and a very faint scream for help.

I turned around a tree and saw one of 'them' bent over a human boy, about to rip his brains out.