I can’t believe it’s been FIVE WHOLE YEARS since my second novel, How to Start Living (in the Zombie Apocalypse) came out! I thought it would be fun to celebrate the anniversary all week, beginning with a prequel chapter that I churned out just for this little celebration.
If you HAVE read HTSLITZA, you might be able to figure out – pretty easily – who is featured in this prequel chapter. On the other hand, if you HAVEN’T read HTSLITZA, there are no worries about spoilers.
So without further ado, I present the release of the first EVER prequel chapter to How to Start Living (in the Zombie Apocalypse)!
OPEN MIC NIGHT
“C’mon dude, she’s not around to roll her eyes at our choice of bars. Grab your guitar and meet us at City Pub for open mic night.”
I glanced at my girlfriend’s dog. “I dunno, man. She might not be here to judge me, but I swear she ordered the dog to do it in her stead.”
My buddy Sean scoffed. “You and that dog barely tolerate each other. I doubt he’s looking at you any differently than he usually does. And Christ, you still can’t say her name around him?”
“Yup. If I say her name, he starts whining and won’t stop. And you might be right about the way he looks at me, but that doesn’t mean I want to play at open mic night.”
“Who said you had to? I’m just suggesting you come out with me, bring your guitar, have a few drinks and…see how you feel.”
I sighed. “You’re gonna bug the shit out of me if I don’t, aren’t you?”
“I’m nothing if not persistent,” Sean admitted.
He was right, of course. My girlfriend hated City Pub, and was at best grudgingly accepting of my music. At worst, dismissive.
“Fine,” I assented. “I’ll be there in an hour – have a whiskey and coke waiting for me. Your dime.”
“Ha! I knew I could convince you. Tell ya what, I’ll buy the first two rounds. Just don’t forget your guitar!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. See you in a bit.” I ended the call, stood, and set my phone down on the coffee table. “Let’s go, boy. Gotta take you out…who knows how long I’ll be gone.”
The dog didn’t move. I swear he resented my very existence, maybe even thought it was my fault that his mom was out of town. “Come on, dude. Fresh air! A nice patch of grass to shit on! Maybe we’ll even see another dog!” I felt like an idiot, trying to reason with this mutt…and in the end he only grudgingly left his spot on the loveseat when I grabbed his leash and unlocked the door.
As we made our way through the building’s lobby, I heard the soft peal of an emergency alert interrupt the usual grocery store music station they always had playing. Just thinking of the term “grocery store music” still made me grin and remember how my girlfriend and I had come up with it together, early in our relationship when going to the grocery store as a pair was so much less of a chore than it had been in recent months. Be honest with yourself, man. More like years.
Outside, the block around our building was bustling. We lived close enough to one of the city parking garages that at this time of day – late evening – the flow of people returning to their cars from an afternoon or an early dinner downtown fought for sidewalk space with those heading out for later meals or a night out. I had to practically drag the dog across the street, where there was a patch of grass he liked to go on. “You’re too friendly for your own good,” I grumbled as the passers-by kept distracting him from doing his job.
By the time I got him back inside, the awful grocery store music was playing again – seriously, how many times can they play “Kiss Me” in a single day – and I’d already wasted nearly twenty minutes of my hour. I swiped on some deodorant and put on actual clothes, hoping that it wouldn’t be obvious that I’d been alone for two days now and reveling in the fact that there was no one around to ask me if I was going to shower.
The dog seemed to be raising his eyebrows at me as I slid my guitar case out from behind the couch. “None of that,” I admonished him. “If you wanted me to stick around and hang out with you, you could stand to be a little more affectionate.”
It was nice enough out that I decided to walk to the Pub. The guitar was a bit unwieldy, but it wasn’t much more than a half mile from our place, and I didn’t feel like searching for parking now or having to hike back to pick up my car the next day. Not being able to drive home was an inevitable result of a night out with Sean.
If I hadn’t had some hardcore tunnel vision on my trek to the Pub, I might have noticed that something was off. With what happened later that night, there must have been people stopping to check the alerts that I only saw on my phone hours after the fact. Sure, the original messages were vague (and only became more confusing as time went on), but maybe some people actually went searching for more information (and then made the intelligent decision and rushed home).
But me and my buddies? Most of us – including me – avoided social media at all costs, and when we were out drinking there was a hard rule about how often you could mess with your phone. Kinda over the top, if you ask me, but maybe I felt that way because I was never the main culprit.
Of course I guess that’s all neither here nor there, now. I just feel like a total dumbass for having zero idea that the world was falling apart until it fell apart around me.
The Pub was less crowded than usual, but at the time Sean and I chalked that up to it being early enough on open mic night that most of the performances consisted of shit like slam poetry. “No one wants to hear this,” Sean grumbled as the third self-titled poet finished her recitation.
“Maybe not, but is it better or worse than that sketch comedy group?” I pointed out.
“Hey, at least with them there was the chance of a few laughs.”
“Not that they succeeded…”
“Exactly. So how many more drinks do I need to feed you before you get your ass up there and show this place some actual talent?” Sean asked, nudging my drink closer to me.
“Ask me that again an hour from now,” I hedged.
“Don’t think I won’t take you up on that!”
Which, of course, he did. By then it was close to ten and I was three whiskey and cokes and two beers in. The Pub was a bit more packed at that point, but not enough to make me question my drunken choice to give in and put my name on the list under a two-person band and a one-man comedy act. “Maybe more people would come out to these open mic nights if they narrowed down the type of performances they allow,” I mused.
“No way man, the total randomness is half the fun!”
“To you, maybe. But it’s also why so few people actually show up to check things out.”
Sean shook his head, eying me with what could only be called pity. “If you’re hinting that a better-organized open mic night would change your girl’s mind, you’re dumber than I thought.”
“Nah, I know she’d rather just stay home with the dog.” Even as I said as much, though, I had to ignore the twinge of annoyance – and, if I’m honest, a touch of hurt – caused by saying these words out loud.
I was so busy stewing over my relationship frustrations that the MC had to call my name three times before Sean nudged me into action, but at least I was too annoyed to be nervous. “I hope no one was expecting a cover, because I’ve got an original song for y’all tonight.”
“Damn right you do!” Sean called out. I heard a couple of people chuckle as I settled my cherished Gibson J-45 in my lap. I made a show of plucking a few strings, making sure that it was tuned – really just delaying the inevitable – before finally clearing my throat and launching into what I thought was my best original to date…but I hadn’t even made it to the first chorus when I was interrupted by the Pub’s back door banging open. I recognized the guy who burst through it and stumbled toward me as one of the bartenders. He ripped the mic out of its stand, almost falling into my lap as he did so.
I lurched to my feet. “What the hell, man?” I shouted – but then he turned to look at me, his eyes wide and his face white as a sheet, and my gaze was drawn to his torn shirt…and to the blood running down his arm. I stumbled backward as he began yelling into the mic, something about a woman attacking him and how we all needed to get out of the bar, to get away, to run, run, RUN…
I shoved by him, but by then everyone else was already on the move. I heard Sean calling my name, but the crowd – small as it had been – was already practically herding me to the exit. “Meet me outside!” I replied, and had to hope he’d heard me as I was pushed out onto the sidewalk. I broke away from the other panicked patrons, clutching my guitar to my chest as I looked for Sean. When I felt someone grab my shoulder, I spun around, prepared to use my instrument as a bludgeon, only to find myself face-to-face with my friend.
“What the fuck is going on?” he asked, sounding more angry than scared.
“How am I supposed to know?” I pulled out my phone, ignoring the long list of emergency alerts in its notification center, but the only texts I had were from my mom, asking me where I was, if I was okay, telling me to call her, call her, CALL HER…
“These alerts make no sense…something about a riot at the hospital, one just says return home and remain there…” I’d opened my news app, but it wouldn’t load. “I think we should do that. Go home. We can try to figure out what’s happening when we get back to my place. Where did you park?”
“I didn’t. I took a rideshare.”
“Fuck,” I hissed, suddenly regretting my choice to walk. I eyed the people milling around – like us, they must not have had cars nearby, and it looked like they were having issues with their phone connections, too. Alarms and sirens were blaring near and far, the loud and unending dissonance making it hard to think straight. “Looks like we’re walking,” I said. “At least it isn’t far. Stay close.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Sean grumbled, but he listened, dogging my heels as I moved out into the road. It being a weekend, Main Street was closed to traffic. Normally I wouldn’t give this a second thought, but right then – when we wanted to avoid anyone rushing out of bars and restaurants – it was damned convenient.
We moved quickly, dodging confused groups of people. I soon regretted every sip of every drink I’d had that night, and at one point even toyed with the idea of getting rid of my guitar. But I loved that instrument more than – well, more than most other things in my life – and in the end, it turned out to be a really good thing that I didn’t toss it.
By the time we turned off Main, the number of other people we were seeing had dwindled to almost none. I expected there to be more cars on the road than there actually were, but maybe everyone who had driven downtown had taken off hours ago. If it hadn’t been for the constant alarms and sirens, I imagine it would have been eerily quiet. I slowed to a walk when I did finally catch sight of a car, though – it was parked at a weird angle, practically in the middle of the road, and both front doors were open.
“You see anybody?” Sean asked as we approached it. The street lamps bathed the scene in enough light that I could see that the vehicle was empty, so I shook my head.
But I continued peering at it as we walked past…and that’s when I noticed movement.
“Shit…I think there’s something under it!” I whispered.
“Who cares? You saw that guy in the Pub – he’d been attacked! Let’s just get back to your place.”
“What if it’s some poor animal just suffering under there?!” I argued.
Sean groaned. “And what are you gonna do if it is?”
He had a point, but to be honest, I was almost as curious as I was concerned. “Just turn on your flashlight so I can check, okay? I’ll be quick about it.”
Sean muttered something under his breath, but did as I’d asked. I set my guitar on the hood of the car and crouched down, gesturing for him to shine the light lower.
I smelled it before I saw it. I don’t know how long it had been…whatever it was…but the smell wasn’t a totally rotten one. Yet, I realized later – it wasn’t a totally rotten smell yet.
Oh, and it wasn’t some poor animal.
It was a fucking person.
“Christ!” I exclaimed, dropping to my hands and knees to reach under the car. “Sean, there’s someone stuck under here! These assholes hit a person and then ran off! I’m gonna – “
But I never really got to figure out what I was going to do next. See if they were alive, maybe? See how badly they were pinned and try to drag them out? Guess it doesn’t matter, because when I reached out – all the while wondering what was up with the weird-ass smell – the head turned toward me.
Suddenly, I was staring at a moving body with what I can only describe as dead eyes…and a bloody maw for a mouth.
“Holy fucking – shit, fuck, shit!” I fell back on my ass and scrambled away from the car, gasping for air as I tried to keep myself from puking.
“What? What is it? Are they dead?” Sean asked as he rushed to my side.
“No. Not dead. I don’t know…I don’t know what…”
Sean helped me to my feet. “Breathe, dude. If they’re alive, we need to help them.”
“Fuck that,” I spat. “Whatever that is…it’s beyond our help. Beyond anyone’s help. You were right, we just need to get back to my place.” I turned to leave, then remembered my guitar. Stupid, really, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave it behind. I ran back to the car and snatched it up, refusing to look down and turning my back on the scene the second I had it in hand.
I broke into a jog. Sean, still apparently confused – not that I could blame him – took a moment to catch up, and when he did, I could hear the exasperation in his voice when he asked, “Are you gonna explain to me what the hell happened back there?”
“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”
“Dude! Dude!” He grabbed my arm and pulled me to a halt. “You have to give me something here. You can’t just tell me there’s a person stuck under a car and suddenly decide not to help them!”
I shook him off. “You really want to go back there and see what I saw? Be my guest! But I’m not sticking around while you do.”
I’ll always regret snapping at him like that. I doubt I’d ever hurt Sean’s feelings before – our friendship was an easy-going one – but I saw the hurt in his eyes then.
And it was the last time I ever had the chance to look him in the eye, period.
I don’t know when the zombies – because I’ve since realized that of course that’s what they were – caught wind of us, or heard us, or whatever drew them in…all I know is that I turned my back on my friend, took no more than a few steps, and then heard him say, “Miss? Miss, are you okay?”
The feeling of dread that overwhelmed me just then spurred me to turn on my heel, but Sean had already started moving toward the young woman who had wandered into the road, clearly making a beeline for us. “Wait! Sean, wait!” I yelled…but this ended up being the worst thing I could have done. Sean turned back toward me, but by then the girl was mere feet away from him, and even as I opened my mouth to scream, “Watch out!” she reached for him, both arms outstretched, practically falling into him – and doing so with enough force that she knocked him off his feet.
Brandishing my guitar, I rushed toward them, but then it was Sean who was screaming – not coherent words, either. Just…screaming.
I’m not proud of what happened next, but can you really judge me? I still moved to help my friend – I did! – but then I heard something else. A…shit, I can only describe it as a cacophony…of moans, groans, shuffling feet…
I looked up, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks. Four, eight, a dozen of these monsters, stumbling toward me.
I spared a glance at Sean, but by then all I could see was his legs twitching as the zombie feasted on him.
I ran.
Unfortunately, it was another four blocks or so to my building, and my disaster of a night wasn’t over. I could hear some of the bastards following me, but I knew I could outrun them. The problem was, I was so intent on doing so that I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings as a whole.
That’s why my dumb ass breathed a sigh of relief and slowed down to a walk when I reached that last block.
And that’s why I nearly got eaten.
I still blame the fucking incessant alarms and sirens for my not hearing the zombies who had apparently taken over the area. I guess it doesn’t matter – what matters is that one moment I was marching toward my building, assuming I was safe, and the next there were several bloody-faced undead between me and my destination.
Remember how I’d refused to leave my guitar behind? Well, this is where I finally lost it. I was able to dodge a couple of those assholes, but then one got close enough to grab for me, and all I could think was, Swing, you idiot!
So I did. I wrapped my hands around the neck of my precious instrument and swung with all my might. The crack that I heard when it connected with the zombie’s head nearly broke my heart – I had a momentary flashback to buying it, to putting it on my credit card and knowing that it would take me more than a few paychecks to pay it off – and the sound that it made when it was smashed to pieces against the head of some mindless zombie was, if I’m honest, anticlimactic. I had a moment where I thought about keeping the shattered guitar…but I knew I had to trash it, what with the body hanging on to the neck by just a couple strings and being covered in blood.
Thankfully it bought me enough time to get to my building, to let myself inside, to take a deep breath and realize that I was in some deep shit.
And yet, that damn grocery store music was still playing.
At least it wasn’t fucking Sixpence None the Richer again, I guess.
It took a moment for that to register – power was still on, regardless of whatever the fuck was going on outside. I took the elevator up to our place, where the damn dog was clearly itching to go out.
“Not happening, dude,” I said, resigning myself to the fact that I would have to clean up his mess in the morning.
What I needed was a cold-ass shower…before I took stock of my life, such as it was.
As I made my way to the bathroom, I saw my girlfriend’s phone on the bedside table. I suddenly felt more angry and alone than I had in my entire life, and to be honest…I hated myself for that.
She wasn’t a bad person, and I didn’t think I was, either…but seeing that phone there, knowing that I had no way of reaching her on whatever stupid retreat she was on right now, cemented my decision.
I took that shower, and then I texted my mom to let her know that I was okay, but that with everything going on, I wanted to come home.
The biggest problem was the dog. My mom was allergic, and even if she wasn’t, I had to assume that his mom would lose her shit if he was gone when she came home. Which was a few days away, but I told myself that he’d be okay for that long.
No, this was obviously not my proudest moment…but listen, before I peaced out, I did what I could. I left a note, I left extra food and water for the dog.
But yeah…I still left.
I mean…what else was I supposed to do?
If you’re interested in reading more, you can purchase HTSLITZA via Amazon (Kindle: $2.99; Paperback: $12) or Barnes and Noble (Paperback only: $12)!