Zombie Wife

I can hear her shambling around downstairs. She keeps knocking things over. I wonder how long it will be before she figures out how to make it up here.

I should have recognized that something was wrong sooner. It’s not like we were unaware of the infection ravaging the country. I guess I just wasn’t willing to admit that it could have made it so far so quickly.

We were careful, establishing our own personal quarantine according to the measures the CDC issued once the gravity of the epidemic was known. We stayed in. We sealed ourselves into a couple of rooms in the house. We subsisted on rations and whatever supplies we could scavenge, using rebreathers when we went out, never straying too far away.

So of course we thought we were safe, especially after we’d survived the first few weeks relatively unscathed.

I don’t know how she got infected. At this point it doesn’t really matter; the damage is already done.

I’ve been hiding out up here for days, but I can’t stay here forever. Eventually she’ll find me.

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