The following weeks and months were horrendous, not just for Cat Ward but the entire world. Zombies had swarmed the planet and wiped out civilization as it had been known. Pockets of the living still existed in most places, but they were under constant threat, having to hole up at night when the undead came out of hiding and went on the prowl.
That was the only positive, Cat mused to herself one sunny afternoon as she explored the streets and shops of north London, searching for food and supplies. Zombies were sensitive to sunlight. It hurt their eyes and caused them discomfort. If they had been able to roam in the daytime as well as by night, it would have been impossible for survivors like Cat to operate.
As it was, Cat had learned to get along nicely. The first few days and nights had been the hardest, when she’d had no idea where to go or what to do. Should she stay in the city or head for the country? Set up camp in an apartment in a tower block or in a house in suburbia? Team up with other survivors or keep to herself?
She’d made mistakes in those early stages, but just about everybody had. The difference between her and those who succumbed to the zombies was that she learned from her errors and corrected them.
One mistake she never made–and it was a mistake that cost lots of people their lives–was to put the welfare of anybody else before her own. Cat faced countless zombie attacks over the first couple of weeks. Each time she grabbed the nearest human and threw them to the undead lions, creating time and space for her to get away.
Cat felt no guilt. As far as she was concerned, this was a dog-eat-dog world. The people who had died so that Cat could live were proof of her motto. If one of the fools had seized their chance and thrown her to the zombies before she could do it to them, that person would be standing here today instead of her. Since they hadn’t, she had prospered and there would be no second chance in this life for any of the others.
Cat stretched and smiled. She was actually enjoying this new period of her life. She had found fresh strength and resolve since that day in school. She wasn’t drifting along aimlessly. She was a survivor, one of the few with the courage and daring to flourish in these dark, deadly times. Where others had crumbled, she had stood firm and emerged a powerful, purposeful woman.
“No more math for me,” she giggled, but softly, so as not to alert any zombies who might be sheltering in the shops around her.
But maybe it wasn’t the end of her teaching days. Perhaps she could set up a survival school, teach other people how to thrive in this new, dangerous world.
She smiled again at the thought. Money wasn’t worth anything now, but respect and admiration would be payment enough. She could also get her students to hunt for her, bring back food and drink, clothes and weapons. She liked it out here on the streets, but a day would come–not for a long time yet, but it paid to think ahead–when she would get old and slow. It might be a good idea to prepare for such a time as far in advance as possible.
Besides, if she surrounded herself with eager students, she would have lots of bodies to lob to the zombies if she got cornered.
Chuckling under her breath, wondering what she might name her school, Cat headed back to base. It was still early, but hungrier zombies sometimes came out while the sun was still in the sky. After Rule One–seize every chance in life–came Rule Two in the Cat Ward guidebook to surviving a zombie apocalypse—it doesn’t pay to dawdle.