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It was the end before there was even anything to do about it. The government completely blacked out after a few statements from the good-for-nothing president, leaving the hapless citizens to their likely demise. However, a group of survivors, as of yet still separated, have stayed alive through the madness that ensued around their neighbourhoods as the dead rose to feast upon the frightened, frankly very confused, living. As most rational people might guess, it was in fact the less fit who died first, due to their inferior physical ability in general. This included, unfortunately, our current hero's (former, as was probably apparent) dear old granny.
It was hard putting her down, partially because of the memories, mainly because of the fight the old lady put up. But John Smith figured soon enough she'd be making cookies for everyone else in Detroit with the Big Man Upstairs, even though he wasn't even sure the Dude was there anymore. Not a whole lot was really sure these days.
He left out into the suburb for the first time in a month since this whole mess started, after packing up clothes and toiletries. Truth be told, he really wasn't the typical zombie-apocalypse-survivor type. He really only looked the part. The only reason he was even alive was that he'd just stayed inside the entire time, and lived off of ramen and cookies, things stockpiled already, due to his general distaste for shopping. Unfortunately, he's more of a Shaun or Columbus than a Daryl or Rick, and he would soon find that life after the Red Plague and without grandma's cookies really isn't all that it's cracked up to be. He had a cool undercut and a somehow-fashionable five o'clock shadow on his face, and wore cool punk rock shirts for cool bands whose members all died in the 1990s from drug overdoses and STDs. He had cool tattoos all up his arms which he definitely didn't cry the whole time through, with lots of skulls and nautical stars and things. His ripped skinny jeans and grey denim hooded vest from Hot Topic, he found, were not excellent for walking or really moving around much at all, nor were his beat up checkerboard Vans, but never fear! He brought his precious longboard. He'd had it for years, and it wasn't even his first. On account of this, he never knew what brand it was. He rolled down the street and took in the scenery, if that's what you might call it. It looked much more deserted than he'd thought it would. He had guessed there would be more, well, chaos. It was the end of the world, after all. He supposed he'd probably slept through it.