Episode 2.1

Joe woke up with the zombie knocking on his door that morning, just as the sun was coming over the horizon. When he answered the door the zombie was holding out a small notebook and a pencil.

"Hm…? Oh yeah, you can have that." Joe waved at the zombie dismissively as he stumbled to the front window. He peered through the curtains and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that the truck still sat just off the lawn. "Ok. Good. Mary and her Goons haven't been here yet. Come on, we've got to load the mattress into the back of the truck and then skedaddle before we have to deal with three armed idiots at our door."

The two of them worked together to carry the mattress, sheets and all, out of the apartment and into the back of the truck. Joe covered it with a plastic tablecloth, tucking it between the mattress and the walls of the truck bed, to keep the moisture out. Then they set out, the truck speeding out of the apartment complex one last time.

"We're going take the 95 up the coast," Joe said while the Zombie unfolded the map. "We'll stop in every major city to look for settlements or the military."

The zombie nodded, looking out the window at the ruined cityscape streaming past. "Hey, do you have a name?" Joe asked. "I feel weird not calling you anything."

The zombie took out his notebook and pencil, then wrote something down in shaky handwriting. He held it up to Joe. It said, "I don't remember my name."

Joe frowned. "Well, I guess we'll have to give you a new name. What about…" Joe scanned the sides of the road. "Hydrangea?"

The zombie shook his head.

"Uh…" Joe glanced at a billboard. "McDonald?"

The zombie rolled his eyes.

"...Car...Freshener?"

"You're really bad at this," The zombie wrote.

"How about Freckle? I think you have...are those freckles or blood spots?" Joe trailed off as he glanced between the road and the zombie's face. The zombie rubbed at the spots on his face, then checked his finger. "Yeah I'm, like, eighty percent sure those are freckles," Joe said.

"Ok. I like that name," Freckle wrote.

"Nice! Freckle it is, then."

Joe got onto the highway, respectfully using his blinker and following the speed limit even though there wasn't a single other car on the road. Freckle gazed out the window again. There was a rainstorm gathering in the distance.

Joe suddenly swerved and hit the breaks. Freckle gripped the sides of the seats.

"Yoooooooooo!" Joe yelled. He pointed to the side of the road at a large industrial dairy farm. "We've gotta go there!"

"Why???" Freckle scribbled.

"Gotta get milk or Colonel Crunchies will go stale."

"...Who???"

"Colonel Crunchies." Joe pointed to the lunchbox nestled by Freckle's feet. "The cereal. My best friend."

Freckle glanced worriedly down at the lunchbox, then out at the dairy farm. "Are you sure about this?"

"Oh, positive. This is the entire reason I left my house yesterday."

Freckle wondered if he should have left that morning. Then he remembered the gaping hole in his chest and how he'd rather be safely inside a truck than out there with the crazy humans that would shoot a zombie on sight.

Joe pulled into the parking lot. The dairy farm was a farm/factory combo, with a large outdoor field and a huge indoor building. The building had three cylindrical silos, which were probably used for storing milk when the building was open. No one seemed to be inside the factory, and Joe and Freckle soon discovered why as the stench of manure and rot penetrated the inside of the truck. Joe pulled his shirt over his nose and Freckle rummaged in the glovebox for a moment, then handed him a fabric face mask with a Minecraft Creeper design on it.

"No, it's fine. You take it." Joe said, gagging behind his shirt.

Freckle scribbled: "You need it more than me." Joe caved, quickly snatching the mask and putting it on his face.

"Ok…what's our plan of attack here..." Joe studied the front entrance of the building.

"You're still going to go in?!" Freckle wrote.

"Well, yeah. It's unbelievable luck that we found this place. I've gotta see if there's any cows left inside."

"I volunteer to be the getaway driver," Freckle wrote.

"...Ok. That's fine I guess. You don't need to come in. This is my quest." Joe said, putting a sudden dramatic emphasis at the end of his sentence. He jumped out of the truck, took the keys out of the ignition, and put them around his wrist with the little rubber bracelet they were attached to.

Joe walked up to the main entrance, inspecting the doors. They both had narrow glass windows set in them, and the one of the left was slightly broken. Joe got a stick off of the ground and drove it through the glass, widening the hole. Then he reached through, trying to reach the inside doorknob. He strained, pressing his body closer to the door, and was able to get ahold of it with the tips of his fingers. He pulled upwards, and the door swung inward.

Joe turned back towards Freckle to give him a thumbs up. Freckle smiled back, and then Joe disappeared into the dark factory.

Freckle anxiously glanced around. Without Joe, the entire dairy farm was eerily quiet; not even the usual sounds of the apocalypse were present. There were no groaning zombies, helicopter engines, or even distant screams. As soon as Freckle noticed it, he was extremely unnerved.

Freckle looked up at the highway, barely visible through the trees. He knew he had the option to leave the truck at any time. Joe offered him some protection from people like Mary, but was any amount of protection worth...this?

Freckle shook his head, trying to erase his thoughts like an Etch-a-Sketch. He had to hold out for at least another day or two, just to make sure he was fully healed.

A small scratching noise came from the bushes to the right of the truck., then the bushes rustled. Freckle peered out the window curiously. The trees swayed, as if pushed around by something. Freckle's eyes widened.

A scaly head, thick as a tree truck, broke through the bushes. The enormous zombified gator hissed as it dragged its body closer to the truck; scabby, mutated, and full of a lust for blood.

The car chirped as Freckle locked the doors.

The gator charged, throwing its entire weight forward into the side of the truck. The truck was lifted just a centimeter off the ground, with the threat of going further, but it rocked back down onto four wheels again. Freckle looked down at the ground just quick enough to see a scaly tail slip underneath the truck.

Freckle slowly pried his eyes away from the ground. Even though his heart wasn't beating anymore, he could feel the panic surging up in him. He rummaged through the junk on the floor, then behind the seats, looking for something, anything that could be used against a zombie gator.

With a quiet slithering sound and a subtle click of claws, the gator crawled out from underneath the truck. By the time Freckle had settled on using a baseball bat, the gator's tail was sliding through the factory doors, which had been left wide open.

Freckle closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. The gator had lost interest.

Freckle's eyes shot open. Joe was in the factory. And he had no idea that a monsterous gator was in there with him.

Freckle would've cursed if he could talk.