Year of the Dead

Watch the hands, mister!

Run. Shop. Survive. A girl has got to have her priorities, right? What did you think I’d do at the end of the world? Hide? Blow that. You can huddle up in your basement, find a bomb shelter, or god forbid, go to Burbank, all you want but since all bets are off, I’m going to do things my way.

So first, I like to sleep in the nude. Having clothes on at night makes me feel itchy, dirty. And usually my clothes are covered with the gore of the dead that I have killed. So there’s that. At the end of a long day of scrambling through the Great Wreck, of putting as many bullets in as many of the heads of the undead that I can, and swinging a bat until my arms feel like lead, I strip off all of my clothes and throw them out of the tenth story window of the small apartment building I’ve been using as my base. I have quite the pile at the bottom of the tower but with all the trash and debris clogging up the streets below, I don’t think anyone will really notice. And if they do, who cares? It’s just a bunch of tee shirts, skirts, and jeans that any of the hundreds of thousands of teenage girls used to wear before everything collapsed into a pile of rubble, technically dead, and flames. I wake up the next day, pull on a long sleeve shirt and jeans or sometimes a skirt if I’m feeling frisky and do it all again. For six months I’ve been doing this. Six months from the day I turned sixteen.

Follow Cerra Romero, a teenage ass kicker survivalist in this hilarious and dark spin off of the Great Wreck as she chops, hacks, and shoots her way across the L.A. basin and into the hearts of zombie fans everywhere.

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