I sure love exotic cars but nothing fulfills me more than American muscle. I get in and fix the seat to my new ride. I decide to deem her Daredevil. 

I turn the ignition on to hear the beauty roar to life and then I see it. A full tank…finally, something is going my way. 

 I start adjusting my mirrors and catch a glimpse of my appearance. As I wipe off the grime and blood off I see tears rolling down my face. I take a deep breath and pull myself together. I can’t keep fighting my mind. 

Whatever is going on got to my dad, got to too many citizens, and ripped their lives away. I can’t feel guilty. I can’t let my emotions get in the way. The only way for me to justify what I’ve done is to get answers. I finish adjusting the mirror and nod at myself. My dad would've done the same for me. He would've found answers. He would have fought to keep living so he could get help.

I can’t let him down. 

I also didn't lose years of my life and endure torment just to cry and mope in a car now. I throw my head back into my seat and close my eyes. I grip the steering wheel tightly, trying to calm my racing mind.

 When I feel resolved, I reverse out of the parking space and speed off just to feel the adrenaline boost. I know now that someone needs to fix this shitshow. So, it’s going to be me. 

I'm on what usually is a major highway and see that some cars are stopped, abandoned in the middle of the street. I race around them for the thrill until I'm bored and take the next exit.

I wish I could lure stinkers out into the roads and just run them down like bowling pins too. It didn't sound like too bad of a plan, actually. I notice the burned down buildings and the wreckage that the fires I heard about left behind. I can even smell the lingering stench of smoke through the air vents as I drive by. It makes me a little queasy to think about all the chaos that’s happened and what my city has now become. 

I also notice the giant walls that surround D.C. in nearly every direction I drive and I know it must cover every square inch of land that could lead out of here. I don’t even have to be close to see them either. The walls are huge and stick out like mountains from miles away. 

I'm driving along aimlessly, lost in my thoughts when I realize what street I'm on. The rusty red brick building catches my eye.

Before I know what I'm doing, I stomp on the brakes and the car screeches at me with the sound of rubber on metal as it careens to a halt. “Holy hot wheels, Daredevil,” I laugh as my body jerks forward roughly. Thank God for seatbelts. I pull my gun out of the cup holster and thank God for guns while I'm at it.

Normally, I wouldn't have ruined such a beautiful joy ride but this was kind of an emergency. I’d found myself in front of Georgia’s Pizzeria.

I stare at the storefront in awe from the inside of my car. All I'd been craving in these past two days from hell was pizza. Now it was right in front of me.

I nearly get out and run but then I remember the whole stinker thing. I check to make sure the coast is clear. Of course, it's not. There's a stinker standing a few doors down by the bank. I didn't know if he was the smart or stupid type but with pizza on the line, I’m willing to take my chances.

Leaving the keys in the ignition, because who's going to steal it, I slide my katana from the passenger seat where I have to lay it down while I’m driving. Then I pull it to my back as I get out. It worries me more than I want to think about that I haven't seen a single human except for Bill. There were some ransackers, sure, but they might be gone or bitten too. Who knew?  

Was this going to be my existence now? I was banking on the shelters having actual humans in them but I couldn't think about that right now.

 “Pizza, H. Think of the pizza,” I remind myself out loud. If Georgia’s alive, I’m going to ask for a serious raise for coming back to work during a zombie apocalypse.

I saunter past the stinker, giving it a wide berth. I found that any distance where I couldn't smell them was the perfect distance for me. The man moved closer to me. He looked to be about in his 30's and his skin had a grayish-greenish tint to it as though it were truly rotting. Yuck!

His white, blank eyes whip toward me and I can't stop my cringe but I keep my gun hand steady. He growls and snarls and throws his hands out to grab me. I pull the gun back, not wanting to waste ammo and pull out my katana. 

With a heave, I hack at his grabbing arm. Knowing the drill now, I back away before the brown ooze can splash me. He makes a squawking cry like a crow and reaches with his other arm. I slice that one off too. His cry pierces my ears and I stab him through his chest until he's down and stays down.

I wipe my katana on his clothes and glance down to check my own outfit. Still clean. I laugh and run to the door of the pizzeria, avoiding the glittering glass of the broken windows that covers the surrounding area. “Nice try, sucker,” I yell with a look back.

And suddenly I'm tackled to the ground. “Oh, damn it!” I cry as the breath is knocked from my lungs. I manage to lift my head and feel the weight of what has to be five stinkers converging on me until my cheek is pushed down hard to the ground. 

I feel grubby hands all up on me, and all I can do is move my katana around as I hope that I won't become a stinker too. After frantically moving my katana around like it’s the end of the world, I find purchase and shove it in deep until the movement stops. I drag myself out from under the bodies and stand up.

Breathing harshly, I fold over myself and notice I was literally squashed by one really large stinker. I laugh so hard my intestines start laughing with me. I take in one deep breath, facing away from the stinker, and hope Georgia somehow found her way back here. 

She can just make me a sweet slice or eight of my favorite pizza. I open the doors to the pizza place and the horrid smell hits me like a brick to the face.

I make my usual check of the area. Remember Plastic Chick? Yeah, she’s rotting in the corner where I left her. Insane guilt hits me but I push it back. 

I walk over some of the dead bodies, avoid the huddled stinkers in the corner, and start to look for Georgia. I can save her, like I saved Bill. I had to at least try.

“Georgia, where are you?” I ask with my katana in hand, paying extra attention to my surroundings. I’m dead set on not getting squished to death by a fat stinker. It’s a bad way to go.

I walk around getting a little anxious and out of nowhere I hear the glorious noise of pans clanging together in the kitchen.

 “Yes! There is life!” I say to myself as I cautiously walk over.

“Georgia!” I scream out, walking into the kitchen as I open the double doors. I notice an old woman with grey hair I don't recognize standing by the sink but not moving. I hope it's an actual person. I can’t tell because the whole place smells as it is. Plus, I am so not accepting the fact that all I have is a defenseless old man to keep me company. I'll die from hearing back-in-my-day-stories long before a stinker can do me in.

“Hello, ma’am. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Washington D.C. is under attack and I’m pretty sure it’s not time to be doing dishes,” I say. The lady turns around and she’s a stinker, but worst of all she’s Georgia.