It would be silly to take a longer route when I can make the trip in half the time, you reason. You decide to take the short route. You'll be in a vehicle, after all, and you can practically mow down almost any of the undead that may stumble in your path.

You back out of your driveway, catching the attention of some undead as you grind the gears trying to shift into first. Learning to properly drive a standard hadn't really been high on your list, and you're beginning to regret it. They grind again, it feels like they're stuck or something.

The undead tear after you immediately. One swings his arms about wildly, as though he's swimming toward you in the air. You find it odd, until you realize he's actually knocking the others back. He may be doing it on purpose, or maybe by accident, you don't know. Either way, he's gigantic as far as zombies go and you really don't want to be setting there if he gets too close.

The gears grind again.

The undead want to get at you so bad, you can see the desperation in their limps and on their misshapen, mangled faces.

What am I doing wrong? you wonder, trying to stay on track and not panic. You think back to your dad's lessons. He had to keep reminding you to press in the clutch harder.

You press hard with your left foot and try again. It slides right into first and you exhale a bated breath. Tires squeal, sending up smoke as you pull out.

As you drive, you realize how entirely devastating this virus has been. Everything looks like a dump site.

You've had enough. What you need is a distraction. You switch on the radio, hoping for something upbeat to burst through the speakers.

"...And if any dead relatives come calling, don't answer," a crisp voice says.

You cringe and change the station.

"I tell you, he walked right through the fire, like it wasn't even there," someone cries.

"Yes, Mr. Applegate, a very good point. Beware that the contaminated do not seem to have functioning nerves. That is to say, they have become numb to pain. Please, do not try to engage the contaminated in hand to hand combat," a man says. "Next caller, please. Minnie Carter, you're on the line with Piers Rolland."

"Hi, Piers. I'd like to know, if we can't fight the contaminated, how do we handle face to face encounters?" a nasally woman asks.

"Excellent question, Minnie. Though they won't respond to pain, the contaminated aren't invincible. The key is to use weapons to immobilize them."

Just ahead, off to the right, you see a woman- at least it was a woman. As you drive by it, you realize it's one of them. She almost looked normal until she turned toward you, revealing a missing chunk of face and a bloody front. You cringe.

With eyes glued to the pavement before you, you try your best to ignore the numerous other random undead loitering the roadside. It's difficult to not think about them merely waiting for a lonely traveler to come along, someone who was maybe better off in their own house-

Don't, you tell yourself. It's way too late to turn back now.

Mind troubled with thoughts of regret, eyes narrowed, it seems sudden when you come to a road block on the normally busy highway. Cars are piled in the way, the undead are wandering eerily. There is no way around it, you're stuck.

To stay in the car would result in definite death, but the only thing near is an old hardware store. On the other hand, the mall is just beyond the pileup. You could maneuver through with the jeep, maybe shove the other vehicles out of your way. Undead that are starting to glance curiously in your direction.

You make a split second decision.

Duck in the hardware store. - GO TO CHAPTER 12

Head straight for the mall. - GO TO CHAPTER 13