is it any wonder that i believe my fate lies in the gnashing teeth of the risen dead?

we were in a compound along with three other families that we didn't know. we had built up walls and fences around what looked like a small suburban neighborhood. my mother rushes in to our house and starts sobbing and thrusting family heirlooms into my hands while saying 'don't forget any of them. put them in your bags and keep them safe'. and i do, even though i think she's being irrational and impractical. i don't know why, but i know that we have to leave soon.

we are all waiting in the boat house for everyone to be prepared to leave. i'm bored and cold. there's a tv playing staticky re-runs of a 1970's sitcom and some of the guys are playing cards.

suddenly, there are zombies filtering through the barricades we'd set up. they fan out over the compound grounds and some find their way to the boat house. i can hear gun shots and banging as the zombies break down the large sliding door. they are slow, but not rotted. they are very strong. there are more of them than us and two men fight off a cluster at the entrance. i'm up on a large fishing boat and i start to panic. then it happens, not in slow motion, but more deliberately than i would have thought. i don't have anything to fight with, so i'm pushing the zombie's head into the gear shift of the boat and trying to shake its grip. i think to myself that once i've killed this one, i'll be fearless and able to kill anything. i'm the last one wrestling with my foe and they are gathered around me, encouraging me but also waiting to jump in if it takes a turn for the worse.

it is at the moment that i succeed in pushing my fist through its forehead that i realize i'm also the only girl left alive in the boat house and my first thought
when i wake up is of my mother's heirlooms.

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