Zombie Stories | Personal Accounts and Reports from the Zombie Apocalypse
"Dispatch to 1327, respond... over" The voice drifted into my head, forcing my eyes open. Head hurting, I forced myself to focus on my surroundings. Okay... seat belt on. I shook my head. The vehicle was against a phone pole. I remembered nothing up to this point, not my day, how I got here... nothing. I remember feeling sweat run down my face; and at the same instant I remember thinking that it was running a little too fast to be sweat. “Great!”, there was blood dripping down my face. I reached up to the throbbing place on my head and touched it. "Fuck that hurt, what the hell happened?!" As I pulled my hand away I knew exactly where the blood was coming from.