Molly

         I can't believe it, I survived. The infected wiped out 60% of the U.S. Thank god I got on one of those flights to Hawaii. But now the red plague is gone, and I'm back on the mainland. Michigan, to be exact. I was helping clean up one of the tiny tourist towns on Lake Michigan, when I saw something that will haunt me for my entire life. I was in the backyard of a house that was just about completely obliterated by the invasion, when I forced open a shed door. Inside was two bodies, clutching each other. Both teenagers, both not infected, by the looks of them,  A boy and a girl. The boy with dark hair, the girl very blonde. In the girl's free hand, she held a small, thick, leather bound book with the word "Diary" stamped across the front. Curiosity getting the better of me, I pried the book from the dead girl's hand and opened it. I leaned against the wall, and began to read.

         My name is Molly Marie O'Malley. I'm 16 and four months old, I live in a little tourist town in Southwest Michigan, I love horses, I'm on the equestrian and swim team, I get decent grades in school, my parents aren't divorced, My grandpa died when I was seven, I have an older brother named Flynn, and I have this huge crush on this guy, Pierre. I did, anyways. That's before the disease came.

         It was around a week ago when they showed up. I rolled out of bed and pulled on my uniform, a gray plaid skirt and blouse. I walked downstairs, made coffee, and turned the T.V. to the news, like I do every morning. I only watched the news for awhile when the bus came. I grabbed my bag and headed outside. I got on the bus and went to school, nothing out of the ordinary there. It wasn't until lunch that things started getting strange. First the principal came on the P.A and said we were all getting sent home early. We were all cheering and skipping with glee. God if I knew what was happening I wouldn't have been so happy. We got on the busses and were driven home. When I got off the bus was my first encounter with an infected person.  I walked down the driveway like I normally did, when I heard my Dad say "Molly, run!" and an earsplitting screech. I followed my Dad's instructions, and got into the house. I looked out the window when I got inside and saw a person, running at breakneck speed towards the front door. It was promptly halted, however, by a bullet in the chest from Dad. I turned around and looked into the living room. Mom was pacing, Flynn was trying to tune our static-y radio, and Dad was kneeling by the living room window, which was cracked just enough to allow the top of his hunting rifle through. I could barely make out a male voice on the radio frantically saying

         "Shoot on spot! There is no cure! Get out if you can! Use the lake, they can't swim!"

         "Dad…" I asked, throwing my bag on the couch. "What's happening?" Dad sighed and shut the window

         "A disease broke out in New York city yesterday that's turning people into mindless monsters. It's been spreading ever since and it hit here earlier." Dad replied. I didn't know how to react. Those stories of 'the infected' were fun…but they couldn't be real! I was scared out of my brai- mind. Brains sounds too zombie-ish.

         This last week has been insane, in a bad way. Mom was the first to go. She'd left the basement to get some food. Dad had gone with, taking the gun. When he came back downstairs spattered in blood, speechless and without Mom, we all knew what had happened. Flynn was next. He thought he's heard someone upstairs and went up there, but after an hour Dad went to see him and…I don't want to think about it. A couple days later, Dad and I heard on the radio that they were evacuating at the hospital. We know this was our only chance.

         The trucks had already left when we got there. So now it's just Dad and me on the run, with nothing but Dad's hunting rifle, A gun we stole, ammo (also stolen), and all the courage we can muster.

-Molly

         We only just got away. We were almost killed by a horde of those mindless killing machines. We've been taking refuge in the old Northside Marina for the last couple of days- they'd zombie-proofed it before the town was overrun. It's cramped and god everywhere around it smells like fish and carnage, but this is the safest we've been in two weeks. We didn't dare stay anywhere in town- to much possible noise, and all the store fronts are glass. Not secluded enough. The zombies are everywhere. Northside isn't as bad, because they can't swim and the drawbridge was left up, but Dad and I had a job getting over the river, and they're still here, just not as bad as south side. I wake up in the Marina office every morning and look out the window. The thing my eyes snap to is the pier. The lights on the pier still go on at night, attracting oodles of zombies, but if they didn't, I'd take a pilgrimage there one day, for sentimental reasons. My first kiss was on that pier. 9th grade. Alexander Daniels. 3rd date. He moved to Cincinnati six months later. I miss him. He was the only boyfriend I ever had that didn't cheat on me. Jacob Meskauskas did, so did Bradley Clark.  And then there's Pierre Stacey. I've been thinking a lot about him lately. I never really dated him, but I liked him, but…I don't think he liked me anymore then a friend. But look at me, rambling about boys. It's all completely pointless, Pierre's probably dead. So are Alex, Jacob, and Brad. Just thinking about it makes me depressed.

         -Molly

         Dad's gone. It's all my fault. I'm all alone and I don't know what to do. I am going to die here.

         -Molly

         I'm not going to die…yet. I found two other people, one a firefighter, Mr. Carlton, who I recognize from parades and fire safety stuff from elementary school, and the other…my Social Studies teacher from freshman year. Mrs. Z. Wow, I thought she was a goner for sure! I've got a good four inches on her, and she's got no muscle. I didn't even think she knew how to work a gun, but boy, was I wrong. That woman is a perfect example of how big things come in little packages. "I had a riflery class in summer camp when I was eight" she said simply. We're moving north, we heard on a radio in the Marina that evacuations were taking place in Holland and Grand Rapids. In these bigger cities, though, the infection is worse, and we have to be super careful to travel only by day, because the Zombies seem to get 100 times worse at night. I'm writing this right now in a dimly lit basement of a farmhouse that belonged to some old geezer. Poor guy, we had to shoot him. Had a bite mark in his neck. But anyways, I can't sleep, so I'm writing. We're not even close to Grand Rapids, though. It's almost 60 miles from where we're at now. I'm scared we won't make it in time. Dad and I didn't make it in time for the hospital evacuations. The hospital evacuations. We would have been safe if we'd made it. But now, Dad's dead. I'm with two people I barely know, and I'm risking everything for nothing. I've got nothing left except myself.

         -Molly

         We're in Holland, at some abandoned fancy-shmancy prep school. The scene here is heartbreaking, it looks as though they didn't get the students home before the invasion hit. Bodies of dead children, from five years old (I broke down crying) All the way up to 18 year olds, older then me. I had to do horrific things. I had to shoot children. It's going to haunt me until I'm old and dusty. I killed…a ten year old. Several, actually. They were all trapped in a classroom, with their teacher, who probably infected one of them, causing a domino effect. The room was locked. He was trying to protect them, probably, but he lead them to their dooms. I read on a sticky note above his computer that he was on vacation in New York…from May 13 to May 18th…the day the infection started. It took longer to lose yourself then. I left that classroom and didn't speak for days. I wouldn't eat, either. I'm still off sleeping, recurring dreams are terrible. Will I make it out of this the same Molly Marie O'Malley, or a completely different person? Will I make it out of this at all?

         -Molly

         Oh, god, no. We're all in tears. The rumor about evacuation in Holland was just, well…a rumor. And now that we've reached Grand Rapids, we found that the planes have left. We decided we're turning around and heading back to South Haven, so at least we're back on familiar ground. We can't go around losing our way from base camp. We're staying the night in a barricaded storage unit on the river, then setting course back for home tomorrow. This is getting scary. I'm starting to think the rest of my life is going to play out like this, chasing evacuation sites and getting disappointed. Frankly, it seems a little pointless. Why don't we just fling ourselves in front of a bunch of Zombies? They're going to get us in the end anyways, if we don't starve.

         -Molly

         Mr. Carlton's dead. We were getting stormed by a thousand Zombies in Saugatuck, he told me and Mrs. Z to get to safety. He would deal with them. He promised he'd come back. He didn't come back. Mrs. Z and I have made a vow, now.  We've sworn that we'd never let the zombies get us. We're going to do whatever it takes to get out of this apocalypse alive. Whatever it takes, whether it be severing a limb or stealing a car. I'm starting to have a little hope now. Maybe I will escape with my life. Maybe Mrs. Z will, too.

         -Molly

         We're back in South Haven now. We're once again, in Northside Marina, listening to the radio for hours, taking turns keeping watch at night. I'm tired, hungry, I want a shower, and I want this to be over, but at least I'm somewhere familiar with someone who I can talk to. The zombie population seems to be thinning, but the less of them there are, the more aggressive they become. Maybe they're starving before we do.

         -Molly

         It's over. I really think it might be over! The last zombie I saw was over two days ago, now all that's left is a bleak landscape reeking of bodies, but nonetheless, I got out, I won! Mrs. Z and I did it! Mrs. Z's trying to contact some form of civilization via radio as I write this. WE WON! WE'RE ALIVE!

         -Molly

         I've got good news….and really, really bad news. Bad news? It's not over. Mrs. Z and I were walking down the road earlier today when we heard the telltale screech of a zombie. Not just one. I swear there were thousands, running and screaming towards us. I…I tried to get Mrs. Z to come with me. My old best friend's house had a shed in the backyard that crazy Lilia (my friend) said it was "So, totally zombie proof!" (we used to joke about zombie apocalypses a lot)  But anyways, Mrs. Z…she seemed to give up hope right then. "Go." She said "There's no reason for one woman's despair to keep you from surviving. Avenge your family." I was crying and ran to her "Go!" she shouted "the world needs someone like you." That was the last thing I heard from Mrs. Z before she was blocked from view by ravenous zombies. Now that I'm safe in Lilia's shed and I can think somewhat clearly, I know Mrs. Z sacrificed herself for me. She knew that, if we both struggled, neither of us would make it out alive. Zombies prefer prey that comes quietly, see, and they're not the smartest. Mrs. Z must have realized that if she gave up, they'd all gang up on her, giving me a chance to escape with my life. I ran as fast as I could down the roads, my feet carrying me away, but my mind lingering back in town. But I kept going. This leads me to the good news (I read a book in seventh grade where someone said "There's no great loss without some small gain)…Pierre's alive. He's not infected. What a miracle. I thought I was alone for good. I ran until I couldn't possibly run any more, then walked. I saw someone walking down the street, and I aimed to shoot, but I then realized that it was no zombie.  "Pierre!!!" I shouted, jumping up and down, waving my arms. "Molly?" Pierre said "Molly!" We rushed towards each other. "I can't believe you're still alive!" "You either!" forgetting about the apocalypse, we strode down the street for a bit…until we heard a screech. "This way!" I said, grabbing Pierre by his wrist and pulling him down the street to Lilia's shed. We ran inside the shed and pushed Lilia's dad's workbench against the door. I collapsed on the ground and cried. So did Pierre.

         -Molly

         Should we do it? I'm scared, but it's the only way out of this mess. The zombies are storming the city, they’re slamming against the walls of the shed right now.  We found an abundance of prescription medication in the toolbox (everyone knew Lilia's dad was a drug addict…except for Lilia and her Mom, who fervently denied it) We're never going to get out. Pierre and I have given up our dreams of getting out. We're going to do it. We're taking the pills at nightfall so we can have one more day. Just one more.

         -Molly

         We've both just taken the pills. Several, from each bottle. I hope the concoction will be enough. I'm writing, one last time. I was just talking to Pierre. "Molly" he said "I don't know if you got it…but I wrote you a note. The day this all started."  I hadn't changed my clothes since then, so I crossed my fingers that it was still there, and reached into my pocket. I pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper with my name written on it…shaking, I unfolded it. On the note was six words. They said-

XXX

         The rest of the pages in Molly's diary were blank. I figured the pills her and Pierre took had taken their toll at exactly that moment. Or she'd become too weak to write. Or her pen had run out of ink. Desperate to hear the end of the story, I searched the shed from top to bottom, looking for the note. It was in Molly's other hand. Tears welled up in my eyes when I read it. Across the piece of battered paper was written

I love you, Molly O'Malley -Pierre

I shut the note in the book, which I slid into my bag, and stood up. Molly had almost made it. Judging on her entries, and recent forensic tests done on the diary and their bodies, the last entry was written two days before the zombies really died out, and survivors were brought back to the mainland. Pierre would have been killed or quarantined, anyways. Autopsies showed he was a healthy carrier of the Red Plague. Molly had trace amounts of the virus in her mouth. They'd kissed, most definitely, right before they died. Moments before, because towards the end of the infection, a single exchange of any bodily fluid would result in losing your mind within a minute. To the scientists, Molly and Pierre became just another statistic. But to me…they've got a story. A beautiful, terrible, Romeo and Juliet story. They're Molly O'Malley and Pierre Stacey. Not victims MI-1034 and MI-1035. I can't help but think that, if this had never happened, they'd be together right now, at this very moment, celebrating the start of their senior year along with their friends. Maybe they'd of even gotten married five or ten years down the road. You never know, because the Red Plague did happen, and that's all that matters.