bash it into the face of the
zombie and stop when you feel it scrape across the low
basement ceiling. Realizing you will have to watch the
clearance of your swings, you adjust the grip and swing
the bat like a golf club into the bridge of the zombie’s
nose, snapping its head back. Not waiting for you to wind
up for your next swing, Alexis steps in front of you and
takes out the next one. Between the two of you, four
more zombies are dispatched to their eternal sleep.
“Looks like we got’em,” says Alexis.
“Yeah,” you agree while panting for your next
breath. “You all right? No bites or anything?”
“I’m good,” confirms Alexis.
“Okay then, let’s get some more of these,” you say
as you hold up the bat, “and move on to the next thing on
the list.”
“Sounds good,” agrees Alexis.
Turning back into the room, you head for the
plastic trash can with the sports equipment but only make
it a few steps before you hear a scream. Turning around
quickly, you find a new zombie, this one wearing a
cheerleading outfit, with its teeth sinking deeper into
Alexis’s arm.
Acting on instinct, you rush forward and slam the
butt of the aluminum bat into the zombie’s forehead,
trying to dislodge it from Alexis’s arm. As it stumbles
back, you switch your grip and swing the bat into its
temple. The thick sounding wet impact of the bat reminds
you of the noises your dad’s meat tenderizer makes when
he is preparing steaks.
With the zombie dead, you look to Alexis and then
more specifically to her bleeding arm. You know if this
zombie outbreak is anything like those in the books and
movies, she’s been infected and will change soon, too.
Meeting her eyes, you know she has come to the same
conclusion. You have a choice to make.
Go back & gather more weapons, turn to page ……….. 86
If you push past her and run, turn to page ………..……. 88
Go Back for More Weapons
Trying to reassure her, you say, “Don’t worry,
Alexis. We can get through this. I’m going to grab some
more bats, and then we’ll make our way to the nurse’s
office. I’m betting if we put some alcohol and peroxide on
it, you’ll be fine.”
With tears welling up in her eyes, Alexis pulls in a
sniffling breath and nods, saying, “Yeah, I think you’re
right. It doesn’t look too bad, just a little blood. I bet
once we clean it up, it will be nothing more than a
scratch.”
“Exactly,” you agree, a little too enthusiastically.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” you say in a bad British accent,
quoting Monty Python. “Just let me grab these bats, and
we’ll be out of here.”
Turning, you make it halfway across the room when
you hear the door slam shut behind you. Running to the
door, you scream to be let out, only to hear the faint voice
of Alexis from the other side saying, “I’m sorry. I can’t let
you risk yourself to save me. I’ll go to the nurse’s station
for the first aid kit on my own and come right back. You’ll
be safe in here.”
Yelling back you say, “Come on, Alexis. Let me out.
I can help you.”
With a trembling voice, Alexis says, “No. I don’t
want this infection to win. I don’t want to turn into one of
them and bite you. At least this way, I know you’re safe.”
Before you can respond, you hear the fading
footsteps of Alexis running up the stairs. You try banging
on the heavy metal door, but it doesn’t open, and she
doesn’t come back.
At first, you hold out hope that she’s successful and
is just taking a little longer than expected, being cautious
and all, as she returns to let you out, but by the time you
find yourself in such desperate need of using the
bathroom that you are forced to relieve yourself in a
corner, you’ve pretty much given up all hope.
You’ve inspected the area thoroughly and found a
small metal placard on one wall behind a bookshelf which
confirmed your worst fears. This room was first built as a
fallout shelter back in the sixties when
zombie and stop when you feel it scrape across the low
basement ceiling. Realizing you will have to watch the
clearance of your swings, you adjust the grip and swing
the bat like a golf club into the bridge of the zombie’s
nose, snapping its head back. Not waiting for you to wind
up for your next swing, Alexis steps in front of you and
takes out the next one. Between the two of you, four
more zombies are dispatched to their eternal sleep.
“Looks like we got’em,” says Alexis.
“Yeah,” you agree while panting for your next
breath. “You all right? No bites or anything?”
“I’m good,” confirms Alexis.
“Okay then, let’s get some more of these,” you say
as you hold up the bat, “and move on to the next thing on
the list.”
“Sounds good,” agrees Alexis.
Turning back into the room, you head for the
plastic trash can with the sports equipment but only make
it a few steps before you hear a scream. Turning around
quickly, you find a new zombie, this one wearing a
cheerleading outfit, with its teeth sinking deeper into
Alexis’s arm.
Acting on instinct, you rush forward and slam the
butt of the aluminum bat into the zombie’s forehead,
trying to dislodge it from Alexis’s arm. As it stumbles
back, you switch your grip and swing the bat into its
temple. The thick sounding wet impact of the bat reminds
you of the noises your dad’s meat tenderizer makes when
he is preparing steaks.
With the zombie dead, you look to Alexis and then
more specifically to her bleeding arm. You know if this
zombie outbreak is anything like those in the books and
movies, she’s been infected and will change soon, too.
Meeting her eyes, you know she has come to the same
conclusion. You have a choice to make.
Go back & gather more weapons, turn to page ……….. 86
If you push past her and run, turn to page ………..……. 88
Go Back for More Weapons
Trying to reassure her, you say, “Don’t worry,
Alexis. We can get through this. I’m going to grab some
more bats, and then we’ll make our way to the nurse’s
office. I’m betting if we put some alcohol and peroxide on
it, you’ll be fine.”
With tears welling up in her eyes, Alexis pulls in a
sniffling breath and nods, saying, “Yeah, I think you’re
right. It doesn’t look too bad, just a little blood. I bet
once we clean it up, it will be nothing more than a
scratch.”
“Exactly,” you agree, a little too enthusiastically.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” you say in a bad British accent,
quoting Monty Python. “Just let me grab these bats, and
we’ll be out of here.”
Turning, you make it halfway across the room when
you hear the door slam shut behind you. Running to the
door, you scream to be let out, only to hear the faint voice
of Alexis from the other side saying, “I’m sorry. I can’t let
you risk yourself to save me. I’ll go to the nurse’s station
for the first aid kit on my own and come right back. You’ll
be safe in here.”
Yelling back you say, “Come on, Alexis. Let me out.
I can help you.”
With a trembling voice, Alexis says, “No. I don’t
want this infection to win. I don’t want to turn into one of
them and bite you. At least this way, I know you’re safe.”
Before you can respond, you hear the fading
footsteps of Alexis running up the stairs. You try banging
on the heavy metal door, but it doesn’t open, and she
doesn’t come back.
At first, you hold out hope that she’s successful and
is just taking a little longer than expected, being cautious
and all, as she returns to let you out, but by the time you
find yourself in such desperate need of using the
bathroom that you are forced to relieve yourself in a
corner, you’ve pretty much given up all hope.
You’ve inspected the area thoroughly and found a
small metal placard on one wall behind a bookshelf which
confirmed your worst fears. This room was first built as a
fallout shelter back in the sixties when
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