Hello everyone! Long time no see.
Tthe inspiration for this story hit me when I was watching TV and preparing some sheep fleece to spin it into yarn, my flatmate came in watched for a bit, then announced that when the Zombie Apocalypse came, he wanted me on his team. The story has been rattling around in me head ever since. BTW, if the zombie apocalypse does hit, this is my plan. My writing is always character lead, so I'm really hoping Bella survives, at this point I don't know any more than you do.

Bella will have all of my knowledge and skills, but will remain in character. Well, that's enough from me, without further ado:

It happened so suddenly; overnight, the world as we knew it; was gone.

I'd gone to bed the night before, calling goodnight to my father and getting little more than a grunt in return, most of his attention being on whatever sport was on the TV. I went through my nightly routine and settled into bed with my worn copy of Wuthering Heights.

"Bells? I've been called into the station, don't wait up." The call came up the stairs.
"Okay Dad, be careful!"
"Always am."

That was the last conversation I had with Charlie, when I came downstairs in the morning he was different. He was standing listlessly in the middle of the kitchen; skin an alarming, pale grey colour, eyes glazed.
"Dad, are you okay?"
His head snapped up and the eyes faced me, I froze. The eyes, those eyes, I'll never forget, they still haunt my nightmares, terrible, dead eyes; staring, burning, hungry.
He lurched towards me, arms reaching, grabbing. I cowered away from him.
"Dad?" My voice was small, shaking. I was so scared. "Dad, what's wrong?"

He didn't answer, he just came closer, his steps uneven as he crossed the kitchen towards me. He didn't seem to have very good control over his motor functions. His hands grabbed at me again, though he still wasn't close enough to reach, I backed out into the hall.

"Da… dad, this isn't funny!"

"aaurrghh.."

His mouth was hanging open, the sound formed no words, but it communicated all the same. It held the same message as the eyes; hunger. He was hunting me.

I turned and ran, out the front door and across the lawn to my rusty red truck. I wrenched the door open, threw myself inside and slammed the door shut behind me. Shoving the key into the ignition and praying it would start. The engine roared to life and I slammed my foot on the accelerator, pulling out of the driveway and off down the street, no idea where I was heading. I was just running.

As my heart rate calmed and my speed slowed to something that didn't make the ancient beast I was driving shake alarmingly, the sound of the radio filtered through my consciousness.

"…must stay inside their homes, if you know anyone who's been bitten you must not approach them. This is no joke, no nightmare, no stupid zombie movie; it's real. The zombie apocalypse. It's widespread across the US, and reports are filtering in that this is happening in other parts of the world as well. The government has given no explanation, only stated that there is a military operation underway and that people should stay in their homes and wait for further notice. I repeat: everyone should stay in thei-"

I turned it off.

Charlie was a zombie. My dad was a zombie. My dad had tried to eat my brains.

Crap.