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Prologue:
Smyrna, Tennessee…One Month Ago.
It was the most decisive battle ever since that dang zombie virus-infected America. I was armed to the teeth with shotguns, bullets, axes, and anything else I could find. A bunch of armed citizens and I were blockading this town from the undead army that just couldn’t go away. We had to plug them with so many bullets just so they could stay down. We were the last hope for the survivors once this zombie plague was hitting us hard all across the country. For over five years, we soldiered on to make sure people weren’t infected while at the same time trying to slay all those undead creatures. We didn’t know all the reasons how this virus got out in America, but what we did know was that our country was decaying much like our enemies‘ flesh. The sky was red and so were the streets with all the carnage going on. We used whatever we could for barricades to hold off that army of decaying flesh. The sounds of screaming, moaning, and gunshots were the soundtrack to this night in hell.
Some of my best friends were killed, but we did everything we could to fight back. After countless hours of battling it out in the Volunteer State, we eventually won. Humanity got to survive this zombie apocalypse. Some doctors were able to make vaccines and pills to deal with the viruses for all the survivors. That was all well and good with the humans winning and stuff, but there was something gnawing away at the heads of all these zombie hunters all across the good old United States of America.
Where do all us zombie hunters go from here? Days after winning that battle, we had nothing to do but sit inside our houses since there was finally peace. I mean, I’m glad no one’s dealing with zombie infections and no one’s brains are being eaten like pulled pork sandwiches, but there was nothing to do around here but twiddle our thumbs and clean our guns. All the zombie hunter squads and militias disbanded since their work was done. No more zombies, no more reason to protect humanity, I guess. With all this lack of zombie-killing action, there was a new need for all of us that have slain those decaying monsters. That need was to find a new occupation.
C. M. B. Bell's Writing Universe 