I'm thinking of trying my hand at kinda a big project. I'm gonna try my hand at writing a novel, or at least a novella.

I've had the idea for a while now, well truthfully I've had a setting for a while now that I wanted to write a novel in.

My own unique take on a zombie Apocalypse

It's not going to be a furry story but I'm hopping to get the first chapter done sometime this month and posted here for critique

i've written some long stories in the past so maybe I can do this, I'm at least hopping I can.

I'm planing on doing some stuff I've never seen in zombie stories before, stuff I think human survivors would try but never seem to in any of the incarnations I've seen

I decided to post the first two pages of the opening so far here in the journal. I think this is going to be it for posts till the first chapter is done though.

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First off it’s not like the movies. We don’t know the exact how and why of the epidemic, but we can make an educated guess. It happened right after the meteors peppered the planet. They weren’t large but there was a lot of them, and while most burned up not all of them did and some of those that made it to land a number of them touched down in populated area’s. These were devastating, horrific disasters that lead to thousands of dead buried in the rubble.

We lived near such a city, Michael was a fireman and his unit headed out to help. I was so proud of him. I just knew my Michael was a hero running off to save the day. I was proud of our boy Jon as well. He knew his daddy was a hero and at 13 he was determined to be just like his Dad. It nearly broke the boy’s heart when we realized we’d never see him again.

That’s another reason we think the meteors had something to do with it. Most of us remember the news coverage, the soldiers in dirty clothes, the rescue workers and fire men digging through the rubble. The triumphant cry as a survivor was found, the media vultures closing in to show the heroes pulling the nearly dead moaning man from the rubble. It was merely luck that the camera was even facing the right way when it happened. An EMT was kneeling over the man trying to strap him to a back board when the wounded man leaned forward his loose hand surprising the paramedic enough to pull him in close. For a moment it looked like he was going to kiss the man who was there to save his life. But before any one could react there was a flash of broken teeth and a gush of blood as the man who’d lain under the rocks and dirt for three days tore out his rescuer’s throat. There was only a few more seconds of panicked footage before the video cut out but the scariest thing I remember from that broad cast was that while the world went mad around him that man just sat there and calmly chewed his mouthful of meat.

That was the beginning, at least that was the beginning here, in other places it might have started earlier or maybe later. Hell even here that one might not have been the first but that was the start of the panic. Nobody believed it at first, not even me and I’ve seen and read nearly every book and movie on the subject. We all talked about post traumatic stress, and how he’d been in sane with pain and lashed out. The words were comforting but I didn’t really believe it. The man hadn’t been in pain, he’d been calm as can be. I knew deep down something was wrong but like everyone else I refused to believe it. After that there was no more video from in impact sites on the news, but the internet, that was rife with stuff. Shaky cell phone movies showing some one lurching out an alley and dragging down a struggling man, or the snapshots of bloody mouthed vagrants carrying off some one. Videos, web casts, blogs of all types we full of stories about the horrors going on around the impact sites. The net work news kept saying it was all fine , and that despite the hoaxes and hysteria that some were sowing to prey on the gullible everything was going just fine with the recovery efforts

It was about this time I realized I’d never see Michael again. I very nearly broke down sobbing. But I had to be strong, I had to look out for Jon. I knew he still though his dad was coming home. He still thought his dad was invincible. I had to be strong for his sake. I’d stopped watching the news, it was all fake, and the sad part was everyone knew it even the anchors but they kept right on reading the garbage.

Id started to get ready. I was afraid of what might happen, we had some camping gear, some high quality surplus sleeping bags that my dad brought with him out of the army, and some camp fire cooking gear. I stashed them in my car, ready for a quick escape if need be. Over the course of a week I began filling the car with food. Boxes and cans, stuff that would keep, I tried to avoid the blind panic of some of my neighbors, I didn’t just blindly grab anything on the shelves, at first buying flats of the items that I felt might have the least wasted space. I skipped right over the soups, cans of pasta, or the stews. Bags of dried beans, and rice were carefully packed into the back of the station wagon along with flats loaded with cans of tuna, salmon and canned bread. The canned vegetables were a toss up there was a lot of water weight in them but I knew we should have the veggies and fresh wouldn’t last. Course as the stores started to run low I grabbed everything I could from pumpkin pie filling to fruit cocktail. For water I avoided the individual bottles so many people were scrambling for, instead filling the back seat with one, two, or three gallon jugs of the stuff, half of the time I’d just buy the jugs and fill them with tap water.

I kept the goods covered with a tarp and the car parked in the garage at night I used to trust my neighbors but the way things were going lately I’m not sure how far that trust would go so It was better not to tempt them. Plus the tarp hid the shot gun, a single shot 12 gauge my dad gave me when I was a kid, and small stash of mixed bird and buckshot ammo. In the glove compartment was a 357 magnum and its supply of bullets was kept in a large Tupperware container under passenger seat, and snuggled up to the console was a long steel crowbar. Some might say my paranoia was showing but it helped to be doing something rather then going back and forth to work everyday. I kept hopping I’d see the familiar old truck pull into the drive and see Michael’s smiling face, to hear him tell me how it was all just a couple of crazies and that people got all worked up over nothing. I hoped for that but I prepared for the worst.
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and no I'm not going to keep the first person going through the whole thing