When the meteor struck the earth off the north atlantic coast of the United States on Wednesday, June 9th, at precisely 2:27pm eastern daylight time, it was a sight to behold. The sky turned blood red. The light could be seen from hundreds of miles away. It seemed like a piece of the sky had fallen out, caught fire, and plunged to the earth.
Anyone in the world could describe the exact place they were when the meteor crashed to the earth, beginning the series of events that would usher in the worldwide apocalypse.
Anyone, that is, except Joe Jones, because he was asleep. He was napping at 2:27 in the afternoon.
When the meteor released a parasitic alien fungus that turned its hosts into mindless flesh-eating zombies, Joe Jones was in his home, playing video games instead of looking at the news.
When the fungus spread across the globe and vast swatches of the world devolved into anarchy, Joe Jones finally did notice, but only because the grocery delivery man stopped coming.
Joe tried to go online to give the delivery man a bad review, but the internet was down. Come to think of it, his electricity was going in and out as well, but he assumed that it was because of the frequent thunderstorms in the area (a result of the meteor strike). He would have called the electric company, but he didn't have any service (another result of the meteor strike--albeit indirect). Finally he thought he found the problem.
"My bill payments must not be going through," He said to himself.
This was, Joe would admit, a rather large problem. He would have to physically go to the bank to resolve it, and he hadn't left his house in two years, five months, and twenty-five days. In the area of skill that is talking to other human beings, he was wildly out of practice.
"Well, I'll just have to live with it," Joe said, as the lights in his house shut off.
"This is fine." Joe said as he stared into his refrigerator, empty except for half a bottle of milk and some mustard.
"The Bank will figure out what's going on eventually, and they'll send someone over to fix it." Joe said as he fanned himself with a piece of cardstock in the sweltering June heat.
Joe poured some cereal into a bowl, but when he opened the fridge, was greeted with the sour stench of rotten milk.
Joe closed the fridge and stared longingly at his bowl of Colonel Crunchies cereal. "I have to do it, don't I, Colonel Crunchies? I have to…" he grimaced. "Talk to people."
Colonel Crunchies didn't respond.
Joe stood up straight, set his jaw, and saluted the cereal. "I'll do it for you, Colonel."
Colonel Crunchies felt as touched as a bowl of cereal could feel.
Soon, Joe was laying out a map of town on the kitchen table. He uncapped a magic marker.
"Alright Colonel Crunchies, here's the plan. We want to limit the chance of interaction with another human being as much as possible, so I've planned us out a route through the most deserted parts of town. We might get mugged, but it's a risk we're gonna have to take."
A fly landed on the rim of Colonel Crunchies' bowl.
Joe sighed. "You're right. If I get mugged then it'll all be for nothing. I'll redo the route." He scribbled on the map with the magic marker. "There. That's better. Safer streets, but still not crowded. The fastest route to the grocery store, and then to the bank...and then...oh who am I kidding?" Joe put his head on the table. "The grocery store and the bank? I just can't do it, Colonel Crunchies. I don't have the stamina."
The fly on the rim of Colonel Crunchies' bowl buzzed its wings loudly and fell onto the table.
Joe slammed the table. "Pull yourself together Colonel Crunchies! We're going to get through this, you hear me? Both of us!"
Colonel Crunchies didn't budge.
"No! I'm not gonna let you sacrifice yourself! If you don't get milk soon, you'll go stale! We're going to the grocery store, gosh dang it!"
Colonel Crunchies bravely remained silent.
"Please, Colonel Crunchies." Joe reached out and grasped the bowl with both hands. "I need you. Your sacrifice would be for nothing."
The bowl was cold against Joe's hands.
"Thank you." Joe said. "Thank you Colonel. You won't regret going to the grocery store instead."
If a cereal bowl could cry, Colonel Crunchies would.
...
The route was carefully planned out and Colonel Crunchies was wrapped up in cellophane. The dynamic duo was ready.
"This is it, Colonel Crunchies. It's now or never." Joe placed the cereal bowl in a lunchbox, zipped it shut, and clipped it onto his backpack. He put one hand on the front doorknob. "Let's make our mamas proud!" he shouted, and threw the door open with a war cry like a pterodactyl screech.
Every zombie on the street turned their head as the resounding "EAUGHHHHH!!" echoed through the empty apartment development. Even the half-decapitated Ms. Norton managed to raise her head a couple inches.
Joe surveyed the scene. The sky was a garish orange, with dirty gray clouds hanging low in the sky. Cars were broken down on the sides of the street, their gas siphoned out and their engines gutted. The usually healthy grass was a sickly yellow. There was a fire lit in a trash can on the other side of the street, and a zombified severed hand twitched on Joe's front porch.
All in all, it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.
The zombies examined Joe; he didn't seem to be undead, but he didn't seem quite alive, either. He was paler than death, for sure, but was lacking the trademark wounds that came with zombification. He was hunched over like a zombie, but that could just be the result of a lifetime at a desk, and he didn't smell quite as bad as a rotting corpse.
Joe examined the zombies. He was a little confused; he didn't remember his neighbors being so...decayed.
Mr. Warner shambled up to Joe and sniffed him. Joe waved at him awkwardly. Mr. Warner decided that it was better to be safe than sorry, and opened wide for a bite. Joe quickly snatched his arm away.
"Hey, what the heck man!" He said. "That's my arm!"
Mr. Warner narrowed his eyes and tried again. Joe stepped back.
"Easy there, neighbor." Joe put both hands on Mr. Warner's forehead, keeping him at arms length while he desperately chomped at thin air. Mrs. Gonzales decided that she wanted a piece too, then Mr. Gonzales did the same, then Ms. Baker, and soon the entire neighborhood was clustered around Joe, menacingly licking their lips.
Joe was paralyzed. This was more social interaction than he'd had in years. He clutched the lunchbox in fear. "I don't know if we're going to make it out of this one, Colonel Crunchies!"
The circle of zombies closed in around him.