Chapter 1:

Chapter 1: What is Happening

Dead Arise


I know myself in my neighborhood in the suburbs of Atlanta. But something seems off. The streets are deserted, and it's eerily quiet. I pull out my cell phone, but there's no signal. That's strange. I make my way over to a neighbor's house and knock on the door. No answer. I try the handle, and it's unlocked.

"Hello? Anyone home?" My voice echoes in the empty house.

Something is wrong here. Where has everyone gone?

I rummage around, looking for clues as to what might have happened. In the kitchen, I find a half-eaten meal on the table, like whoever was here left in a hurry. The TV is still on in the living room, playing a loop of an emergency broadcast signal. That can't be good. I pick up the remote to try changing the channel, but the batteries are dead.

A noise from outside makes me flinch. Was that... a groan? I cautiously approach the window and peek through the curtains. My blood runs cold. Lumbering up the street is a shuffling figure, but it's moving all wrong, like its bones are broken. Its skin... deathly pale and sloughing off. It turns its head slowly in my direction, and I stifle a scream. Its eyes are milky white and dead, its mouth hanging open and slack, stained with dried blood.

This thing, this once-human thing, sees me and lets out an unearthly moan. I watch in horror as three—no, four—more emerge from the bushes at the end of the block and join the first. They've spotted me and are coming this way. I've got to get out of here now. But where can I go? And what the hell has happened to turn my neighborhood into a scene from a horror movie? I’m going to have to make some tough choices fast if I want to survive.

Adrenaline pumps through my body as I watch the shambling creatures approach. I need to arm myself—fast. Spotting a replacement poker leaning against the mantle, I snatch it up just as one of the things lurches against the front window with a crack. "Shit!"

I back towards the kitchen, trying to put some distance between me and the things pounding at the glass. That won’t hold them for long. My eyes dart around, assessing my options. Out the back door would expose me in the open yard. The basement is dark and unknown—who knows what could be waiting down there? Suddenly, the lights flicker and go out, plunging the house into shadows.

No time to think. I bolt for the closest door—the pantry. Slamming it shut behind me, I fumble in the dark for anything to bar it with. My hands close around a mop handle just as heavy thumps start on the other side. They're inside. I brace the mop across the door handle just as a rotting corpse smashes against it with unnatural strength. The door buckles inward but holds. For now.

Panting, I try to control my panic and think. My phone is dead, but there might be a landline—if the phone lines are still up. Feeling along the shelves, my hands close around a box. Potato chips. At least I won’t starve if I can get out of this. A glint catches my eye on the top shelf. A flashlight, still with working batteries!

Switching it on, its weak beam cuts through the dark. I glance around, formulating a plan. There has to be a way out of here before they break through that door.

With the flashlight beam bouncing around the cramped space, I scan the pantry for an escape route. The walls are solid wood—no way through there. But above me, I spot a potential way out.

The ceiling is just fiberboard tile. I shine the light up and see I’m directly under the kitchen. Gripping the poker tight, I brace my feet against the nearest shelf and push up with all my might. The tile gives way with a crack, and I’m able to push several panels aside, showering myself with dust and debris. Hauling myself up into the kitchen, I peer around through the dim light.

The things from outside have crowded into the living room, moaning and clawing at each other in their frenzy to get to me. One at the back of the pack turns suddenly, sensing my presence. Its rancid breath steams in the cool air as bloodshot eyes lock onto mine. It opens its rotting mouth to shriek, drawing the others' attention.

They shuffle towards the kitchen en masse as I scramble to my feet. There has to be a way past them—out the front door, maybe, if I can make a run for it. I spot a row of cabinets against the far wall. If I can reach those, perhaps climb across to the dining room... But it's a risky move with so many of the dead so close. I may not make it in time.

Gripping my meager weapon, I steel my nerves. Fight or die trying—those are my only options now. I take a deep breath and charge straight at the oncoming horde, aiming my poker at anything within reach.

With an angry yell, I swing the poker at the first shambling corpse, catching it square in the jaw. There’s a sickening crack as its rotten bones shatter. It drops like a sack of wet cement, temporarily tripping the one behind it.

I push onward, shoving past another with my shoulder as it claws at me ineffectually. Almost there... just a few more feet... A bony hand seizes my ankle in an iron grip, and I crash to the tile floor. The thing is on me in an instant, fetid breath washing over my face as wormy teeth gnash hungrily. With a shout, I drive the sharp end of the poker straight through its decaying skull. It gurgles, brain matter and foul fluids splashing my cheeks, but its grip loosens.

Kicking its limp body away, I scrabble across the floor on my hands and knees, fingers stretching for the cabinets. Almost there... Got it! I haul myself up using every ounce of upper body strength, feet kicking futilely as snapping teeth and scrabbling hands reach for my legs. One hand catches my shoe, but I pound it away with my weapon.

Looking around frantically, I see the kitchen is now swarming with the dead, cutting off any escape but forward. Gritting my teeth, I start hauling myself across the countertops, trying not to think about what might have been spilled or left out in this abandoned house. Don’t look down... just keep moving.

Finally, I launch myself at the dining table, rolling over its surface and tumbling to the floor in a graceless heap on the other side. But I’m not out of the woods yet—more moans sound from the hallway ahead as my presence is detected. Panting, I clutch my replacement poker weapon and scan for the front door, or any means of escape from this nightmare house.