BY KALEEN DANIELS

CHOOSE FROM TEN DIFFERENT PATHS

NOCTAMBULIST

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

NOCTAMBULISTBY KALEEN DANIELS

www.kaleendaniels.com

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This book was created as a part of my senior thesis.This book does not directly relate to my thesis but is inspired by my topic on search engines. This book, like a search engine, allows you the chance to choose the path you wish to take to find your answer, or in this case, story.

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Don’t read this book straight through from beginning to end! These pages contain many different paths you can take while on your journey back to Washington. Along the way, you will be asked to make a choice. Your choice may lead you to safety or death

The adventures you take are a result of your choice. You are responsible because you choose! After you make your choice, see what happens to you next.

WARNING!

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I can still hear Jess laughing in the kitchen as she dropped the carton of eggs we bought the day before to make for breakfast; she had the most intoxicating laugh. We both knew we didn’t have much time to stay in Jackson, Tennessee before the infection made its way toward us. We had plans to evacuate the next week even though sources said we had a month. They were wrong, and we were too late.

It’s been 12 years almost to the day of her death. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss seeing her face. All I want is to return to that day to tell her not to go back to the store to pick up more eggs; I wonder if that would have made a difference. Probably not. Zombies... I always thought that was a make believe movie and television theme. I never thought it could be a reality! Now, just because some fucked up scientist decided he wanted to see just how plausible it could be, it became our reality. I swear, if I ever see his fucked up face, dead or alive, I’m going to rip him apart! I mean, he just looks like a douche, like a mix between Pee-wee Herman and Christian Bale.

START

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I’ve been dodging Zombies for 12 years now, only killed about half a dozen, or should I say re-kill? I’ve always been one to keep to myself, and I never saw myself as a zombie slayer since I’m just a 5’2, 127 pound girl. Only in the case of life and death did I find the courage to pull the trigger.

Walking up the stairs it’s like I can feel the memories of our old life together. We were official newlyweds and had just come to a compromise on the paint color of the stairwell. I walk into our old room and go to the closet. I’d been planning on coming back to get some photos and Jess’s favorite necklace. I reach in the back behind the still hanging clothes where the safe is located. As I grab her necklace and put it on, I heard a noise coming from the other side of the wall. I freeze in the position of clasping the hook behind my neck, and feel chills overwhelm my body from head to foot.

Instincts kick in and I reach for the SIG P239 in my right-side holster. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. With each beat I take a step, letting my body

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decide the speed I walk to the next room. My mind is telling me to run down the stairs, but my heart is telling me to walk slow and face what may be next to me. Choose your next path: MIND pg.8 or HEART pg.10

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MIND

I’m not going to be that typical girl in all the movies that follows the scary sound and dies. I feel like people would be sitting in the theater right now yelling “BITCH! TURN AROUND! RUN!” I already feel like my life is way too similar to a movie, I’m not going to be the dumb bitch that dies too.

I take a deep breath and I dart for the stairs. My heart is beating a mile a minute and my palms are sweating, so I grip my gun harder. I don’t even remember my feet making contact with any of the steps, but I am already out the front door of the house now. I feel like my 5-year-old self, taking a running jump and leaping on the bed in fear of what monsters may be underneath. My mind is tingling and there is a high-pitch buzzing in my ears from all the adrenalin.

I run down the street and tears fill my eyes. I’m so overwhelmed with fear and the emotional impact of being back in that home. I am just so thankful I had time to grab that necklace. I feel closer to her when wearing it. I reach the end of the road and I get sick. I fall to my knees and vomit. I wipe my mouth and turn over to sit on my butt and I let myself cry for a moment.

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I know I need to get back to the house because my truck is there. There’s no reason for me to stay in Jackson; everyone who wasn’t infected made it to Washington, where I’ve been living since the attack. I compose myself and stand back up. I make it back to my truck and hop in the cab. I pull out of the driveway and stare back at my house for what I know will be the last time. I drive down the road and head for the interstate, going about 60 mph in a residential neighborhood. I roll down the windows and let the wind dry the tears off my face; the chill of the wind feels good against my flushed, hot skin.

Getting onto Interstate 40 I pick up speed to about 145 mph. A mile down the road a van flies onto my lane almost hitting me, with the back door open and objects flying out onto the ground. I grip the wheel and try not to lose control. I manage to dodge the van, but I’m still swerving viciously trying not to hit the piles of crap flying at my windshield. I haven’t seen another vehicle in motion in the entire state of Tennessee until this very moment. Where the hell did this person come from?Choose your next path: FOLLOW VAN pg. 12 or KEEP DRIVING pg. 16

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HEART

As I keep to the pace my heart has set for me, I find myself clutching my gun harder and tighter. I keep feeling like I’m in a movie and everyone in the theater is yelling at me, the dumb bitch, to run and get the hell out of here. I feel the urge to run, but I’ve already come this far; I traveled all the way back here from Washington and I’m not leaving without the stuff I came for.

I’m facing the door now; it’s cracked open about an inch. I can feel my eyes going dry, I don’t think I’ve blinked since I heard the noise, I’m too scared ill miss something. I try to take a deep breath before I go through the door but I inhale a panicked thin breath of air instead. I grip my gun properly with both hands so I’m prepared to take a shot if necessary. I cautiously start to apply pressure to the door with the tip of my gun and slowly start inching forward.

Across the room I see her standing there. Staring back at me momentarily frozen is Jessica, my Jess…or whatever she is now. Her hair is still the vibrant burnt orange color it was when she was still alive, only not as

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well kept. Her tall body looks undernourished with a greyish tint, but I could still picture her as she was. It’s hard not too. Her olive eyes are staring back into mine, as if she knows who I am.

With my gun still pointed at her my mind is racing with memories and I start to cry. I’ve missed her for the past 12 years and now here she is standing in front of me. I always wanted to see her again, but now I’m not too sure if I still feel that way. I am staring at my dead, zombie of a wife, and now she is starting to move towards me. I know what I need to do, but I don’t know if I can do it. She’s coming at me faster now and I don’t think I’ll be able to pull the trigger if I have to. I don’t have time to think anymore, instinct kicks in. Choose your next path: PULL TRIGGER pg. 14 or FREEZE UP pg. 18

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FOLLOW VAN

I need to know where this person came from; I thought everyone who survived had already made it to Washington. I know he’s not a zombie because they can’t drive. I see the van’s break lights come on, and they start slowing down to get off on the approaching exit. I follow the white beat-up van to a rundown gas station that’s just three blocks off the interstate.

I put my truck in park and step out onto the rubble. The van has blaring music coming out of the speakers; a loud bass-filled Spanish song is playing. I see a set of small feet on the opposite side of the van pumping gas into the tank. I yell, “Hello?” but my own voice sounds muffled to the volume of the music. I walk to the rear of the van. “Hello?”

I turn the corner and I see a young boy around the age of 13 at the oldest looking the opposite way, pumping gas into the car. “Are you alone?” I yell as I reach to tap him on the shoulder.

Startled, he turns quickly and plunges a kitchen knife into my chest. I watch as his eyes grow glossy with tears. He stands there frozen as he watches me drop to my knees. Our eyes are locked on one another’s; He is crying tears of fear and regret, and mine of pain. I know he was just scared, and I tried to tell him it’s ok,

but words would not come out of my mouth. He was mumbling many words in Spanish, but I could only understand one, “triste,” which means sorry. “Triste, triste, triste” he says as he reaches out to gently touch my face. Suddenly he runs and jumps in the van and quickly drives away.

I’ve never felt pain like this before. I fall to my side and my face dives into the rubble on the ground. I lay in a puddle of my own blood, just watching the van swerve back onto interstate. My fingertips and toes lose feeling first, and breathing becomes more of a struggle with every second that passes. Why did I have to follow that damn van? I keep thinking. I turned into that damn typical female role in the movie that makes the bad decision that gets her killed.

My legs have become numb. Looking through the blur of the tears in my eyes I see the necklace around my neck. I focus all my energy to that necklace and I know I will get to see Jessica again. At this point I feel completely numb and my breaths have grown scarce. It’s getting more difficult to keep my eyes open and at this point I don’t feel any pain. I take one last look at Jess’s necklace and then it turns to darkness. STOP!

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PULL TRIGGER

The grip on my gun was still tight from the moment I walked in the door. BANG! Without a moment for me to rethink any kind of decision I did the hardest thing I would ever have to do. I re-killed my wife. The bullet went right through her beautiful head and she lay there motionless at my feet.

I drop my gun and begin to sob uncontrollably. I feel like a monster! I lay next to her mangled, dead body and just stare at her as I hold her hand. “I’m so sorry,” I cry out, my body is shuddering violently as I struggle to catch my breath through the tears. I have missed her so much and I still can’t believe she’s here in front of me right now. I try to remind myself that she was gone before I shot her, and that the body in front of me is only a body and not the woman I love; her soul had perished 12 years ago.

I pull every bit of strength I have within me and say my good-byes for the last time and slowly pull myself up to my feet and pick up my gun. I go back to the other room and get the pictures I came for and slowly head down the stairs to my truck and hop in the cab.

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I pull out of the driveway and stare back at my house for what I know will be the last time. I drive down the road and head for the interstate, going about 60 mph in a residential neighborhood. I role down the windows and let the wind dry the tears off my face; the chill of the wind feels good against my flushed, hot skin.

Getting onto Interstate 40 I pick up speed to about 145 mph. A mile down the road a van flies onto my lane almost hitting me, with the back door open and objects flying out onto the ground. I grip the wheel and try not to lose control. I manage to dodge the van, but I’m still swerving viciously trying not to hit the piles of crap flying at my windshield. I haven’t seen another vehicle in motion in the entire state of Tennessee until this very moment. Where the hell did this person come from?Choose your next path: FOLLOW VAN pg.12 or KEEP DRIVING pg. 16

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KEEP DRIVING

I gain control of the wheel again and pass all the shit on the road. I watch as the van takes the next approaching exit. I don’t even think the person driving saw me at all.

I decide to drive through the night to get back to DC as fast as I can. It’s about 4 in the morning and the cool air and droning sound of the road is starting to put me to sleep. I feel my eyes start to grow heavy. I wish my damn radio still worked, it’s nothing I’ve even thought about in years until this very moment. I slap my face a little and scream as loud as I can to try to wake myself up. A drive that should only take 12 hours now takes a day and a half because of the road damage the blockades caused.

I’ve been driving for about 18 hours straight and I’ve made it to Danville, Virginia. As much as I want to keep going and get the hell out of here, I know I need to get some rest.

I find an open area where I can park my truck. I get out and make sure the bed cover is secure and turn on the electric fence I installed for protection months prior. I climb into the bed and set the alarm on my watch for

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5 hours from now; I just need to get enough rest to be alert for the remainder of my drive.

After what seems like only minutes later my alarm wakes me up. I reach over to turn it off and rub my eyes. My mouth is so dry that my sandpaper tongue has to separate my lips.

When I was pulling off the main road a couple miles back I remember seeing a river, but I don’t know whether to go back to where I’m certain I can get a drink or head forward and hope to find another water source. Choose your next path: GO TO RIVER pg. 20 or DRIVE FORWARD pg. 23

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FREEZE UP

I could not do it. I could not shoot Jess. I froze there, gun pointed at her head. Nothing. I just stood there.

Everything was happening in slow motion at that moment. I watch as she is running at me, while still having enough time to watch the dust being kicked up by her feet with every step she took. I could see every detail of that one second which seemed like minutes. Her hands made their way to my shoulders, knocking the gun from my hands, as she pulled me into her. I felt so many emotions at once! Terrified, happy, depressed, helpless, hopeful, numb and overwhelmed all in this one moment.

She came at my face and gave me a kiss, and than gave me a look that said everything is going to be ok, and I trusted her. She was a zombie, but she was still my wife, and I love her with all my heart. During this moment when I was thinking about my love for her and what we used to be, she bit me in the neck. I was so confused and I had no idea what to think; this has been the weirdest experience.

I fall to the floor in excruciating pain, like nothing I have ever felt before. I could feel my blood stream being poisoned; every inch of my body burnt now.

Tears stream out of the corners of my eyes while I spasm from the pain on the ground. Jessica is just standing there watching me die. I feel so ridiculous for believing I could trust a fucking zombie. I feel a tingling sensation starting in my feet, travel up the rest of my body, followed by complete numbness and then utter darkness. STOP!

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GO TO RIVER

I decide I’m not going to take the chance of uncertainty and head back to the river that I know is only about a 20 minute drive. I climb through the little window that connects the bed and cab of the truck and get back behind the wheel.

Today is a hot day so I really look forward to getting a drink of water. I hop onto the Main Street and book it to the river, passing a total of 5 abandoned businesses and maybe 10 small streets that lead to forgotten neighborhoods.

Like I thought, about 23 minutes later I made it to the river. I pull up so close the front wheels of my truck are touching the waters edge. I practically fly out of the cab and immerse my entire body into the water.

I nearly choke on the first gulp but I don’t care. It just feels amazing to be in the cool water and quenching my thirst; I don’t think I’ve had a thing to drink in 2 days. I get out soaked and walk back to my car to get a couple of bottles to fill for the rest of my trip.

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As I drive back the way I came in the distance I see a figure heading towards the doors of an old 7-Eleven. The figure is dressed in ratty clothes and looks disheveled but not enough to be undead. As I drive closer, the man hears my engine and turns around waving frantically in my direction. This man is way to vibrant in his hand motion to be a zombie. Choose your next path: PULL OVER pg. 26 or DRIVE PAST pg. 23

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DRIVE FORWARD DRIVE PAST

I chose to head straight toward Washington and don’t look back. I’m tired and I just want to get back to where I now call home, where there are no zombie freaks.

Driving on Highway 29 I start approaching a place called Culpeper. At that moment I am overwhelmed with the feeling that something is going to go wrong. Going through this section of road I pass 1, then 3, then another 5 zombies. It’s literally in the middle of the fucking day. Why are they out? They are all swarmed around the van that I passed me the day before. They were like vultures all picking at this small carcass of what can only be a young boy.

I decide I need to pick up speed to get past the roadblock of undead. I get up to about 170 mph and I began hitting bodies, blood splatters all over the dusty windshield.

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A head must have flown off from the blow of the hit because it smashed a beautifully large hole in the center of my windshield. The head was still functioning and the mouth began gnawing at the seam of my shirt. I tried to push it away from me but I was startled by the zombie that started smashing the roof of the truck. BANG! BANG! It breaks a hole through the roof and a long emaciated arm breaks its way through the exterior. At that same moment another reaches through my driver side window and grabs hold of the wheel.

I’m being attacked from all angles at this point; there’s a zombie grabbing at my neck reaching down from the roof, another pulling at the wheel of my truck forcing it to lose control, while another is rolling around my seat biting at me when given the chance.

I want to reach for my gun but I fear if I let go of the wheel it will all be over. At this point I don’t feel like I really have an option. I let go of the wheel with my right arm, the left still fighting to turn against the pull of the fucker outside the truck, and reach for my gun. Right when I manage to pull it from the holster, the truck loses control and smashes into the concrete median that divides the east and west traffic.

My truck starts viciously flipping down the road and my eyes catch a glimpse of the mangled zombies flying down the road along side me. The gun that was in my hand goes off. The last thing I see is the necklace around my neck before everything went dark. STOP!

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I’m honestly worried about the man; there is no reason for him to be outside with no protection. I slow the truck and pull up with the passenger side door facing him and the door is still locked. The old man must be in his early to mid 60’s. He has wavy pepper-colored hair that met with his beard that was about 4 in long. His left eyebrow seems to permanently sink lower than his right. His skin had been kissed so many times by the sun it looked like leather, and his eyes were just as dark as his skin, as if to blend in perfectly.

The man calmly spoke, “My name is John. I haven’t seen a living human in 5 years. I can help protect you if you so kindly would take me with you. I promise I’m stronger than I look.” I felt like I could trust him. It’s just one of those things that you feel within you. Without saying a word I reached over and unlocked the door so that he may enter. He sucked in a breath of relief and said “thank you.”

We drove in silence for a good half hour, I was just so nervous to say a word at first. I finally introduce myself. “My name is Analiese, but everyone calls me Ana.” He

PULL OVER

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turned his head to face me and he slowly cocked his head toward his right shoulder and said “hello”. The only thing I said after that was that we were driving to Washington, then we sat in silence for the next 3 hours.

Driving on Highway 29 we start approaching a place called Culpeper. At the same moment John and I look at each other as if we both feel like something is going to go wrong. Going through this section of road we pass 1, then 3, than another 5 zombies. It’s literally in the middle of the fucking day. Why are they out? They are all swarmed around the van that passed me the day before. They were like vultures all picking at this small carcass of what can only be a young boy.

I decide I need to pick up speed to get past the roadblock of undead. I get up to about 170 mph and I began hitting bodies, blood splattering all over the dusty windshield. A head must have flown off by the blow of the hit because it smashed a beautifully large hole in the center of my windshield. The head is still functioning and the mouth starts gnawing at the seam of my shirt. John quickly rolled down his window and

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threw it out, which knocked a zombie off the car that was holding onto the side.

A zombie stars smashing the roof of the truck, Bang! Bang! It breaks a hole through the roof and a long emaciated arm breaks its way trough the exterior. At that same moment another reaches through my driver side window and grabs hold of the wheel.

John pulls out his pistol he’s been hiding in his pocket, unbeknownst to me, and shoots across my chest at the asshole trying to turn the wheel. He takes another shot straight up to where he thinks the head of the zombie above us would be, but the arm continues to grab at my face.

He wraps the seatbelt around his left arm and stands up so that his body is hanging outside his window so he can take another shot at the zombie above us. This must have been the missing body to the head we threw out of the cab, which is why he missed his first shot. He took one last shot to the shoulder blade. It blew the arm right off the body causing the remainder of it to fly off the back.

I grab and chuck the mangled limb out my window. John helps me kick off the blood covered, shattered front windshield so I wouldn’t have to look out the head shaped hole.

“Holy shit” was the first thing that came out of my mouth, followed by a “thank you.” John just let out one soft chuckle and said “Yup” I don’t know if he was referring to my holy shit comment or the thank you, or both at once.

I continued to head on Highway 29 for another hour, and then merged onto Interstate 66 where the blockade ended. We arrived in DC just 2 hours later.

A Daniels BookWritten by Kaleen Daniels

All rights reserved.

Made in the United States by K. Daniels Senior thesis publication

This single edition published by K. Daniels

To view more of my workVisit www.kaleendaniels.com

You are Analiese, but everyone calls you Ana. You’re a

survivor of a manufactured infection that caused the very

real birth to the zombie. You start your journey 12 years after

the outbreak back at your old home in Jackson, Tennessee

to retrieve a sentimental object. Your goal is to get back

to Washington, DC where you have been living since the

contamination. How and if you get back is up to you.

www.kaleendaniels.com