Palos Verdes was way better than Florida. Owen couldn't even imagine what a zombie apocalypse would be like there. So many old people. Barely even a challenge.

Here in California, though, life was better than a video game – a game where he had IRL friends instead of just randos he met online who were probably ancient perverts.

"Three o'clock," Jeff gasped, and Owen swung the crossbow up to his shoulder as he swiveled. The bolt fired and nailed a kid about Zane's age right through the forehead.

This kid didn't look anything like Owen's big brother – Zane would never wear a t-shirt that baggy. Zane liked to show off his pecs. Owen couldn't really blame him; if he was ripped like that, he'd wear tight t-shirts too. This zombie's pants were way too baggy as well. He looked nothing like Zane. But Owen was still thinking about his big brother being home all alone with Harmony Gutierrez, who everyone said was basically a druggie, and he knew Zane didn't have any survival skills. Zane was practically a vegan and was going to get himself murdered by zombies if Owen didn't save his ass.

Saving Zane had been Owen's bargaining chip to get Jeff out on the streets with him, that and the opportunity to kill a few zombies. Jeff hadn't seemed as confident as Owen felt about venturing outside, despite his earlier bravado. "The TV says we should stay inside," Jeff had argued.

"This is my brother," Owen had said. "Besides, I brought weapons."

The crossbow had been bought with his Christmas money last year, since the only zombie-themed gifts he'd received were a Daryl Dixon bobblehead and the game "Plants vs. Zombies," which illustrated perfectly that his parents had no freaking clue. He'd been careful not to let his parents know about it, only practiced when he was home alone. Hiding it during the move had been crazy hard, but it had all paid off in the end: he was the real-life Daryl Dixon now.

Jeff's parents had a gun, and Jeff and Owen had both armed themselves with knives, of both the hunting and kitchen varieties, because you never knew when you'd end up in close combat. "There won't be that many zombies yet," Owen had continued, even though Jeff had already agreed to be his backup on the mission to Save Zane. "We're miles away from Ground Zero."

"Ground Zero?"

"The hospital," Owen had explained, suppressing an eye roll. "Might be one or two out there, but we're in the burbs. We probably won't see any zombies."

"Isn't your brother on the football team?"

Owen had known what Jeff was saying, but he chose to ignore it. "Yeah. Won't we look like the heroes when we swoop in and save his ass? We'll be kings, man."

They had only gotten to the end of Jeff's street before Owen knew they wouldn't be kings. "They." Ha.  Owen would be the sole king. And he would never let Zane forget this day.

There had been two zombies on Jeff's street: an older man with steel gray hair and a hospital johnny flapping in the wind, and a young woman with an atomic-looking tan and bleached blonde hair extensions wearing a neon green bodycon dress. Owen had offered up the woman to Jeff after he'd bolted the man through the head without thinking. "On second thought," Owen said when Jeff hesitated, "shooting off a gun might bring more zombies. Better to save the bullets."

At least Jeff was good for warning him. There hadn't been anymore zombies until the baggy clothes boy, and they were nearly to Owen's house. Three clean kills, Owen thought with pride. He might have to search his bedroom for a belt so he could carve some notches into it. His crossbow had a strap but it was nylon and he didn't want to destroy its integrity.

"Dude, is that your house?" Jeff asked, pointing.

Owen stared at the mailbox for a minute, thinking about it. All the houses in his new neighborhood looked the same, but eventually the number 211 rang a bell. "Yes."

"Your front door... it's wide open," Jeff whispered.

"Shit," Owen whispered back. He put out an arm, swept Jeff behind him. "Stay back. If my brother's a zombie, it's my duty to kill him." Swallowing, he moved forward. He hoped Jeff couldn't hear how loud his heart was beating all of a sudden.

The front hall looked almost warm and inviting, the way the light shone out over the dark front walk and entryway. So quiet, too.

And then Owen saw the bloody mess in the middle of the front hall, dark on the Spanish tiles. He felt the crossbow shaking, and it took a second to realize the crossbow was shaking because he was shaking.

"Oh my god," Jeff breathed into the back of Owen's neck. "Is that what's left of your brother?"

One step closer and Owen exhaled in relief. "No." He wiped the sweaty palm of his left hand on his camo pants, then his right, before moving forward again. "I think it's my cat."

"The zombies eat cats?" Jeff cried, like this was somehow worse than eating people.

"Cats are effing useless." Now that Owen was staring down at the pulpy pile of fur and blood, however, he found himself mourning Mr. Speckles. "Stupid cat always liked to sleep on my head."

"Aww." Jeff knelt down, reached toward a nearly intact ear before recoiling. "Um, should we bury him?"

Owen sniffed. He had to pull himself together. "There's no time for that now. We need to find the zombie who did this."

"What if it was your brother?" Jeff looked around nervously. He added in a whisper, "Do you think he's still here?"

"Unlikely. No bloody footprints leading into the house. Only a dribble there, going out the front door." Turning, Owen looked into the living room, where the television was still on. The menu screen for "The Notebook" was paused on the television. Like it had finished playing, rolled through the credits, and was waiting for Zane to start it all over again. "Huh," he said.

"What?"

"Zane was here with Harmony. And now both of them are gone. They left in a hurry, because the door is still open. If Zane let a zombie into the house, the zombie would have eaten Zane, not Mr. Speckles. So the zombie must have been one of them."

"It was definitely Harmony," Jeff said.

"Agreed. So Zane and Harmony were here," Owen entered the living room and spread his arms wide to indicate the scene, "and Zane's all trying to make out with her—"

"Ew," interjected Jeff.

"And hopefully at some point before that happened, he figured out that she was a zombie." Owen grimaced. Zane might be an honors student, but dear Lord he didn't seem to have a flipping clue sometimes. "God, I hope he figured it out."

"So what you're saying is, your brother is probably a zombie by now." Jeff looked over at Mr. Speckles. "Like, maybe Harmony bit him and then they both decided to have a little snack."

Owen swallowed. "Oh, God."

"Where are your parents? You said they went out to eat?"

"Yeah." Glumly, Owen pulled out his cell phone. He probably should have texted his parents at some point before now. He'd just gotten so excited when the news started telling them to stay in their homes. And before heading out, he had set his phone to silent, because you never knew when the 'rents would be calling and even the vibration could be too much noise when you were hiding from zombies.

He had twenty-seven new texts from his parents, and five missed calls. He scrolled through. After a billion short texts from his mom that said things like "where r u" and "owen its mom" and "y aren't you picking up ur phone" and "owen r u ok" and "please txt me rt now," his dad sent a long text that finally gave him some information: the police had blocked off the road surrounding the hospital. A few more "OWEN ANSWER UR PHONE"s and "y did we even buy you a phone"s and then another text from Dad saying they were being bussed to the high school.

Jeff was wandering around the living room holding his phone up. "Do you have a signal?" Owen had been about to text back to his parents, because the last thing he needed once the zombie apocalypse ended was to lose his cell phone privileges. Now he checked the bars and saw the words NO SERVICE.

"No," he said. "Not even wifi. Which doesn't make sense." A glance at the television screen. "We still have electricity."

"I bet the cable company got hit."

Ridiculous, Owen thought. This wasn't World War Three. There were no bombs. Just then, however, the lights dimmed, came back up, and then shut down.

"Eff," Owen said, jumping close to Jeff.

"It's the endtimes," Jeff moaned.

"We gotta get to the school."

"Yeah."

They used their phones' flashlights to find their way out of the house. The moonlight would have to suffice from there, because they couldn't risk wearing down their cell batteries so early in the game. Jeff led the way, half-running, since Owen had no idea how to get to school from his house.

"Slow down," Owen said, huffing, after about five minutes.

"First rule is cardio!" Jeff called back. But he stumbled and nearly fell, shrieking, then backpedaled.

"What?" When Owen caught up, he saw what had frightened Jeff, who was now fumbling with his gun. He reached in front of Jeff like he could physically hold Jeff back. "Don't shoot yet."

"You see it, right? You see it?"

The black motorized scooter sat there. It would have been a really cool scooter if the person in the seat wasn't some old person in a hospital gown. The gown was covered in a spray of blood, and one shoulder had a festering chunk taken out of it.

"It's just some old person who can't walk. If they can't walk, they can't chase us," Owen whispered.

The scooter driver's head, hidden inside a black helmet with flames painted on it, swiveled its black tinted visor in their direction.

"Eff no!" Jeff said, fumbling with his gun again. "Nope nope nope. This is not happening."

"It can't--," Owen started, just as the scooter's motor revved and lurched forward. "No way!"

Jeff fired his gun at it.

"No!" Owen shouted, tugging at Jeff's arm. "Headshots are the only way to kill a zombie. We have to run!"

And run they did, until the roar of the scooter motor was far behind them. Then, gasping for air, they slowed.

"I can't keep running," Owen wheezed.

"Oh, eff," Jeff managed to say as he pointed straight ahead. "A horde!"

Jeff had managed to lead them towards the downtown area. Owen looked around for some escape. There were a few cars parked along the streets and in driveways. He started pulling on door handles. All locked, and car alarms started blaring.

"What are we going to do?" Jeff wailed.

Headlights blazed out of nowhere, heading straight for them. Owen and Jeff clutched each other and screamed. This was the end. He just knew it.

Tires squealed to a halt. The passenger side window whirred as it rolled down. "What on EARTH are you boys DOING?" Jeff's mom demanded.

"Uh, nothing," Jeff said.

"Get in the car THIS INSTANT."

Jeff and Owen did as they were told.

"Seatbelts," Jeff's dad warned quietly.

"I cannot BELIEVE you would do this. Thank the LORD I paid extra for that GPS thingie in that GOSHDARN phone of yours." A heavy sigh from Jeff's mom. Owen looked his new friend, who had the bowed head of the shamed, but rolled his eyes. "I NEVER want to see you running around AT NIGHT during the bleeping ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE again, do you HEAR ME?"

"Yes," both boys chorused from the back seat.

They spent the rest of the night playing Call of Duty, since Jeff's parents had a generator. "Remember that time we saw a zombie on a motor scooter?" Jeff asked a few hours later.

"Yeah," said Owen sadly. Yes, he still remembered the Glory Days.

This is for UnderMySkin, hopefully I can figure out how to dedicate the chapter to you :D