We start to drive towards Texaco. "How did you know that this station exists, man? I've never been close to here." I ask Lenny, double checking his directions.

"Not all of us stay inside all day and play video games," Lenny replies.

"Hey, I'm an aspiring track star! Or at least I used to be...." I say defensively. All right, he sort of got me.

As we drive I realize that zombies can destroy certain aspects of life, but others were out of the reach of their mangled arms. For example, from what I've the city of Charleston seems pretty wrecked, but the woods look about the same, save one or two wandering zombies.

I'm glad Lenny is driving. With constant downed power lines, giant trees covering the road, and a bunch of smashed cars, these roads are terrifying. I might crash the car, but Lenny seems to be an experienced driver.

After around an hour of driving I see the Texaco station creep up in the distance. It's an old timey type of gas station, I guess it has some old-school charm, but it also looks in dire need of basic repairs. The letters are all out except the T, which would occasionally flash dim red. The paint is completely faded, and the windows are yellow and crusty. One door is missing, and the other is straight up busted. Lenny stops the car about a football field length from the station.

"Alright Eric, by the size of this station I'd reckon there are anywhere from two to fifteen of ‘em." Lenny estimates as he gets out of the car and starts digging through the bed of the truck. He uncovers a razor sharp bowie knife, and exchanges his machete from his belt with the knife. "You'll need a weapon Eric. This machete ought to serve ya well. Just don't get too close to them zombies. And for gosh sakes Eric, don't get surrounded again. Use yer freakin' brain." Lenny says as he hands me a two and a half foot long machete. I give the scrap of metal a few swings and grin. This is my first time using a machete for anything, but it definitely is a drastic improvement to the stick.

"There is one thing I gotta do before I go kill me some zombie," Lenny says as he whips out a can of Red Bull from the back of his car. I laugh. New zombies, same old Lenny. "Thought you were a Monster guy?" I ask Lenny.

"I am, but I'm all out of the good stuff. These are desperate times." Lenny jokes as he cracks his bull. "I'm sure they got a bunch of Monsters in the Texaco," Lenny adds with a hungry look in his eyes.

After Lenny downs his can, he burps. There is a discernible change in Lenny; his posture straightens, and I see a certain blaze erupt in his eyes, as if the forest in his eyes has caught flame. He tosses the crumpled aluminum to the ground and draws his baseball bat. "Let's go," utters Lenny in a no-nonsense tone. This crap just got real.

We approach the Texaco. I'm shaking in fear. I hope Lenny doesn't notice.

We encounter our first two zombies loitering near the front door of the station. They look pretty creepy."You get the one on the right, I'll go left!" Lenny yells as he barrels toward his zombie, baseball bat ready for action.

I creep towards the other zombie. It's a rather shrimpy, weak-looking creature, but it growls at me in a rather menacing way. I swing my machete in an arcing motion, attempting to chop off the head. My weapon sticks about three inches into the neck of the monster. The zombie scream-moans and starts flailing. Terrified, my hand slides off my weapon and I get the heck out of there.

"Crap!" I yell as I sprint away. I look back to see the zombie trip and fall. It then starts crawling. Out of the corner of my eye I see Lenny dashing towards my zombie with his bowie knife. He ruthlessly stabs the zombie in the head.

"That was pretty sad." grunts Lenny.

"Man, I'm terrible at this!" I moan.

"Just finish yer kills! Don't half-cut the neck, it's no good. Ya gotta go all the way if ya wanna kill." Lenny growls.

I bend down and rip my machete from the neck of the zombie. Blood pours off the blade. I shudder, unnerved at the sight of blood. Freaking blood man. Blood everywhere. On my hands, on my stupid clothes. Why do we bleed? I mean I know why, blood is an oxygen transporter and all that stuff. But still... Why is it so nasty?

Lenny sheathes his bowie knife and pulls out his bat. I check the corpse of the other zombie. It looks like Lenny hit a home run right in the creatures forehead. Darn. He ain't messin' 'round.

I glance at Lenny and timidly suggest, "Guess we got to go in now, right?"

Lenny nods. He takes a deep breath. And then he rips open the door. It literally falls of the hinges. Lenny yells, "We eatin' Zombie tonight!" and charges into the gas station. The last thing I actually want to do is follow Lenny, but I would probably win the award for "worst friend ever" if I just sit out here and watch, so I clench my machete and force myself through the door.

The inside of the gas station is a bit newer than the outside, but I really don't have time to notice anything due to the hoard of zombies. I quickly count them. There are eight in total, most of them wandering aimlessly. I see Lenny rush towards the closest zombie. Crack! The zombie's head splatters against a wall. I guess that makes seven zombies.

I creep through the aisles, hoping to catch a zombie by surprise. To my left and right there are shelves loaded with candy bars and boxes of cake donuts. I hear a scream-moan at the end of the isle. Their constant moaning and groaning makes zombies easy to track. If I can get the jump on a zombie, than I could get at least one kill. I sneak closer and closer to the source of sound. This isn't so scary.

In a flash, the blood-red eyes of a zombie are inches from my forehead, steaming with hunger. "AHHH!" I scream and sprint away from the monster. Now at a distance I note that it's a woman zombie. "AHHH!" I scream again and try to get even further away. At the other end of the aisle, I see a male zombie in a camo hat creeping towards me. I curse, realizing that I'm trapped. Frantically, I scramble on top of the shelf, sending boxes of cake donuts everywhere. The donuts are horribly damaged, but I have higher ground. Both zombies are closing in on me, flailing their rugged green arms in my general direction. I blindly swing at the closer camo-hat zombie, slicing his right hand off at the wrist. Blood sprays everywhere -- though his severed wrist didn't seem to bother him. I twirl my machete and chop downward at the hat. The sword slices straight through cap and brains. I quickly wrench my machete out of the creature's head as the corpse of the creature strikes the ground with a sick thump!

That was an awesome zombie kill! I fist pump and yell, "Hey Lenny did you see that? Pretty sweet right?" I turn around to see how Lenny is doing. I'm met by the claw of the woman zombie. I flinch and automatically leap backward.

I land awkwardly and slip off the shelves. I'm flying for a moment, then my knee crashes against the concrete floor. Pain shoots up my leg. Eyes watering, I roll on my back and glance upward, hoping the crazy woman zombie had fallen into a hidden pit, or got bitten by a rattlesnake, or gotten ran over by a semi-truck, or something random but awesome like that. No such luck, she is inches away from me and ready to pounce. I frantically somersault backwards and scramble to my feet. With one desperate lunge, my machete stinks into the chest of the monster. The zombie-woman gargles and falls over -- finished.

Gasping for air, I glance around the store, hoping that Lenny cleanly murdered the other five zombies. I find Lenny. He is relaxing on a La-Z-Boy like he is watching a mildly amusing TV show. In his right hand he hold a pistol. In his left there lies a half-eaten Slim Jim. Piled around him are the bodies of five motionless zombies. "Bout time you got done, I was startin' to worry bout ya," he says with his crooked grin.

Anger boils in my stomach. "What are you doing Lenny! I could have died and you're just sitting on your butt watching?" I yell.

"Relax Eric. If you got into any real trouble, I would have blown that there zombies face off in a flash," Lenny says as raises his gun. "I was just givin' you some real zombie trainin'. You can't practice this crap. It's better you learn with me watchin' yer ass then if you screw up when I'm not 'round" Lenny reasons.

His argument makes sense, so I begrudgingly mutter "Alright, I guess you're probably right.”

We start to transform the station into a secure area. Lenny hands me a pair of dirty work gloves. "Better get rid of these nasty corpses," he comments. I grab the leg of a zombie and start to pull it out of the building, strongly resisting the urge to vomit. Blood stains the floor as I haul the corpse out the door. Lenny carries three corpses at once. "Where do we put these man?" I ask, hoping that I don't have to drag the body much further.

Lenny takes a brief moment to think, then says. "Well, 'cuz zombie's eat other zombies, let's put 'em in my truck. I'll drive out and throw 'em in the woods." Lenny decides. Once we make it to the truck, I hesitantly grab the zombie by the torso, and try to pull the corpse up to chest level. My knees buckle, and I tumble over backwards. The corpse of the zombie crushes my stomach on the way down. I gasp as I attempt to shove the meat bag off my midsection. After struggling a few moments in vain, the zombie magically becomes weightless. Lenny chuckles and easily tosses the body onto his left shoulder. I groan and get up.

"Like I said Eric, you need some real good tranin' if you want to survive. I'll put you on Lenny's special program once we secure the station," Lenny says with a good-natured wink.

I load a lighter zombie onto the truck while Lenny takes care of the rest. After we stuff eight bodies into the truck-bed, I take a step back, satisfied with my work. "I'll be back in twenty," Lenny says as he hops in the truck. With that Lenny takes off, leaving me alone to man the station. I think I can handle it. As long as no zombies come.

I enter the Texaco and decide to survey the station. There is plenty of grub. The station primarily offers candy bars, beef jerky, baked snacks, and chips, not the most nutritious food ever, but what the heck, food is food. Built into the walls of the station is a large fridge with glass doors. I note with a smile that the cooler was has an extensive energy drink section. There are even assorted flavors of Monsters, I'm sure Lenny will be stoked. Like everywhere else, the station doesn't appear to have power. I open the drink cooler to check anyways, but no luck, I am met by a gust of stale air. Most of the drinks are sodas anyway, which are better cold; but still drinkable otherwise.

The station has other cool stuff too, a couple racks of clothes, the La-Z-Boy, more lottery tickets than me and Lenny would ever be able to play. I realize that I'm still wearing my grimy clothes from the hospital. They are now completely soaked with blood. Quickly as possible, I take off the ruined medical gown and khakis. I never liked the gown anyways, a man should never wear anything with the word gown in it.

I check out the T-Shirt rack, hoping to find something cool. Most the shirts are camo. I'm in a gas station in the middle of West Virginia, no surprises there. There are a few Budweiser T-shirts that I think are pretty cool, but my mom would probably freak out if she saw me in them. She hates American beers, some Russian supremacy thing. A colorful bald-eagle T-shirt caught my eye. On the front of the shirt was the symbol for America, freedom, and all things patriotic. Its beak is wide open in a fearsome war cry. The majestic bird is streaked in a brilliant swirl of red, white, and blue. Awesome! I think as I grab the T-shirt and jam it on. It fits perfectly. Although the shirt is definitely redneck, I love it. I'm not a clothes guy, so it was unusual that I was so excited over a shirt, but there was something special about this wild eagle design. I find a pair of jeans to replace my khakis.

After I finish with clothes, I desperately scavenge for any source of electronic entertainment. I know it's zombie apocalypses, but I'm bored and I want to play video games. There may not be any electricity anymore, but there has to be a Game Boy Advanced around here somewhere I think as I scrounge through the aisles of the station. The Game Boy Advanced (GBA) ran on AA batteries, and I had already found several packs in the station. I have been right next to death a few times in the last couple days and the only thing I want to do is play Game Boy. Game Boy is fun though, what else can I say?

I hear the doors open, and I turn over in a flash. It's just Lenny carrying a couple hammers. "Alright, let's go an' secure the station, then we can eat n' sleep." mumbles Lenny as he stifles a yawn. At the word sleep, exhaustion leaches through my entire body. I want to collapse on the floor, but Lenny is right, we have to secure the area. Why did I think of video games before basic safety? I dunno, guess I'm dumb...

"I got me some tools from my truck, but we gotta bust up one of them shelves over there to get us some wood." Lenny says as he hands me a hammer and nails.

After we remove all the food from on the shelf, Lenny starts carefully prying apart the wood with the back of his hammer. In a few minutes, the shelf morphs into a pile of plywood. "I'll take the front door. Eric, you go an' block the winders." Lenny commands.

The station has two "winders." I grab a couple pieces of wood and head for the window closer to me. It's twilight, so there is some light streaming through the window. The windows are the only light source, so putting boards up will kill the light and make it pretty depressing, but if zombies slaughtered us during the night, that would be even more depressing, so I hammer away. I finish the first window, attaching the boards so they are parallel with each other. I head over to the next window and construct my next barricade in the same fashion.

After I finish, I check to see how Lenny is doing. The door is impressive work, Lenny has somehow figured out how to create an iron latch that fits into a wooden slot. This apparatus will allow us to easily enter and exit the station, but also we can lower the latch to effectively lock the door. Once he finishes, we simultaneously sigh in relief. For the first time since I woke up, I feel safe.

"Alright man, let's eat!" I say with a satisfied smile. I scavenge a Mr. Good Bar and a bag of Doritos. Lenny rescues the donuts that I had knocked over earlier and also grabs a bag of jerky. We then survey the drink selection. I'm craving a Sprite, and I found one right in the center of the fridge. Lenny picks out a bottle of coke.

I find a metal chair behind the register, while Lenny kicks back in his La-Z-Boy, which he had unofficially claimed. He saved my life, so I guess he deserves some perks. "Cheers" we cry in unison as we strike soda bottles. With that I dig into my Mr. Good Bar, chomping on the peanuty and chocolatey bliss. I wash down the candy bar with a warm mouthful of sprite and let out a satisfied burp. Delicious. Morale is pretty high. That's for sure. Lenny and I drift into a light-hearted conversation. "Hey Lenny, what was your favorite class back at TJ?" I asked.

"Spanish class my sophomore year," He replies instantly.

"Spanish? Dude, our Spanish classes sucked. Our teachers spoke Espan'yall. A real Mexican would die laughing if they heard our teachers accents. They say muy bien like muy bean. It was pretty bad man," I responded in confusion.

"Yeah, but you’re forgetin' somthin' real important Eric. Mrs. Lantz was hot," Lenny adds with a grin. I fail to stifle a laugh. I remember Mrs. Lantz. She was pretty hot. Half the class was infatuated with her. Hope she's not a zombie now. That would be a bummer.

Once we finish eating, Lenny finds some blankets that we could sleep on, and I grab a pile of Budweiser shirts to use as pillows. After stripping down to my underwear, I wrap myself in my blanket. Even though I'm lying on the hard floor and my blanket is rather scratchy, I somehow feel cozy. "Goodnight Lenny," I mumble as my mind fades into darkness.