“Be Prepared.”

For as long as I could remember, that had been my motto.

Ten minutes ago, I adopted another: “Aim for the head.”

I used to joke that I learned everything I ever needed from The Boy Scout Handbook and The Zombie Survival Guide, but that’s not a joke anymore. I can hear them in the distance. One of them is trying to follow me.

I’m trying to stay downwind, but the breeze keeps shifting.

I didn’t sign up for this. I wanted to spend my summer teaching kids Archery, but now I’m raiding the storage sheds for weapons and ammo. Our shipment of shotgun shells never arrived, but I have plenty of arrows.

The dining hall is empty, for now, but I can’t stay there.

I can smell that they’re getting a bit too close.

The only access to the climbing tower is by ladder. The Guide says they can’t climb ladders, so that’s the plan. I can store a week’s worth of food and water up there, too. Will that be enough?

With any luck, they’ll get bored soon and shamble into town. I’ll cross my fingers.