Haven't blogged about zombies recently...

As a shout out to Nick Miller of New Girl, here's the start of my very own zombie novel:
At age 14, Tree Banner didn't think there was anything worse in life than the name her hippy parents had stuck her with. Especially since her body type screamed anything but “Tree.” At age 24, however, she discovered she had been dead wrong[1]. Zombies eating said hippy parents was much worse than the name they had so lovingly bestowed upon her.

At this very moment, however, Tree was thinking of anything except her name, her parents, or their being eaten. She was trying not to be eaten herself.

She and her gang of misfits[2] were hunkered down in a big old Victorian house for the night. They didn't usually like big houses, but they had been in a rush and this one was already fortified. Though not very well if the inhabitants were no longer there. The corpses of the inhabitants were not there either, however, so they either made a break for it or were walking on the streets in front of the house trying to eat the squatters in their former residence.

They, the band of misfits, were trying badly to make it out of the city. Tree’s best friend worked in Chicago and, when the madness broke out, Tree had fought her way into a fleeing city to try to help her friend, Lo, get out. They had been planning for something like this for a while. Taking cardio lessons, kick-boxing lessons, thief skills class (at least that’s what they called it). You never knew when you might need to know how to jump-start a car, pick a lock, or siphon gas out of one car to fill another. They thought it had just been something fun to do and a good way to stay in shape. They never knew they were planning for a real event.

The cans stocked up in the basement around Tree made her think these people had been stocking up for something real. She took off her backpack and slung it to the ground. As she did, she noticed the little cat zombie key-chain she had hooked on there long before the real thing had jumped out of a window the other day. A little cartoon cat with stitches on its eye. A reminder of times past when zombies were funny stories that were lumped into the same category as werewolves, vampires, and the people of the fog in a New England town that tried to kill the descendants of the people that had killed them.

Did the existence of zombies mean that Edward Cullen was running around loose out there somewhere? Tree dreaded the idea more than the undead at her door. Because if Edward exited, that meant Bella also existed. Oh the horror. Tree didn't think she could handle that. Brain eaters, bloodsuckers, and face tearer-offers[3], and deadpan chicks all in one world. Yikes.



[1] Yes, the pun is intended. When you’re being hunted by human eating maniacs, sometimes the only thing that keeps you semi-sane is bad puns.
[2] Yes, this is a breakfast club reference. So what? It’s a zombie novel. Things could be worse.
[3] What? You come up with a better nickname for werewolves. Hairy friends? Beasts of the moon? Work on it and get back to me.

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