The High School Slaughter

"What's a zombie gonna do wi-" Maggie stopped herself, smiling and beginning to giggle. "Do you think a zombie could eat it and get, like, super high?" Just imagine, a zombie walked around more mindless that normal. "I mean, their brains are already pretty fried but that'd be pretty funny."

"Colorado signature blend. " Dylan smiled as he pulled out a small box that was in his bedside table. It was filled with about ten one gram joints. He pulled three out, put them all in his mouth and lit them, then offered one to Lars, and then Maggie. After blowing out the first lungful of smoke disguised euphoria, he coughed lightly. "Hell nah. You said we're gonna farm? I've got almost a quarter of nothing but seeds. We can make our own. "

Like with the smokes, Maggie turned down the offer. She fought of a disgusted look, covering her face with her hand. "Ima go into another room or something. You guys have fun." With that, she walked out of Dylan's room. Once out of the room, she removed her hand from her face, rolling her eyes. Idiots. Once she was back in the living room, though, she laughed a bit more at the idea of high zombies. She could just imagine them, already brainless, running into walls and stuff constantly.

Lars quickly grabbed the joint and put it in his mouth. He had been afraid that he'd never be able to do pot again after the apocalypse. "Thank you, so much." He said grinning wickedly. Then, when it hit him, he realized something. As the pot started to soothe his nerves, another feeling started taking place. "Dude... Everyone we know and love is dead..." Lars said as he collapsed against the wall. He wasn't sure why it hadn't hit him before and would now, maybe the pot just helped him think.

"Maybe man. But you know what. " Dylan said, taking a large hit as he fell back onto a beanbag in the corner of the room. "Shit happens. We'll make it through this shit. And be the best stoners to ever live in a apocalypse. Even if we're the only ones. " he said, holding the joint up as a toast.

"Damn right." Lars said holding up his blunt in a salute. He said feeling the high calm his nerves more than before. He hadn't smoked in about a month or two but he was more than happy to let the numbness fall over him.

After a while of waiting in the living room, Maggie was well over the idea of high zombos and was getting extremely annoyed. What the fuck was she supposed to do while those idiots were putting them in possible danger? "Ugh," she muttered, rolling her eyes and heading back down the hall. Putting her hand back over her mouth, she walked back into the bedroom. "Are y'all fucking done?" she asked, a bit muffled by her hand.

"Are we? " Dylan asked, looking at Lars as he stood up. He was a good stoner. His high helped him work harder. He walked past Maggie, down the hall, and to the stairs that led to the basement. The others follow behind him as he lead them down the steps. As they reached the landing in the basement, they saw floor to ceiling racks, filled with food and water. After about two hours of completely filling every open nook and crany of his SUV, Dylan wiped his brow and lit a cigarette as he leaned against the hood of the truck. In the distance there were helicopters, and sirens earlier in the day. But now nothing. Complete silence. "So.. Where to?" He asked after the silence became too much.

"I... Guess let's knock over a hospital?" Lars said thinking about it. "Then again, if this is the kind of apocalypse where everyone who dies becomes a spook, then we should avoid it. Let's go to the nearest walmart. We can steal from their pharmacy and hopefully they'll have some camping supplies left from the last marauders who came through."

"That works for me," Maggie shrugged. She was bouncing against the side of the SUV, a bit bored. "There probably won't be much but it's worth a shot." She took her phone out of her pocket, opening it. No texts. Maybe the cell towers were down already. Were they? Or did no one care? Shrugging, she put the phone back in her pocket, looking to the idiots.

"Hospital it is.. " Dylan began before he heard a low gutteral growling coming from his right side, he turned just in time to see one of his roommates attempt to clamp his rotten teeth down on his arm, he slid to the side and pulled the wooden baseball bat that he had just sat in the back of the truck out, and with a moment of hesitation, brought the heavy wood down. The first hit sounded like a wet thunk. Then again. Still moving. Again. Finally, the cranial cavity gave way and the soft crunch of thin bone and brain hung in the air. Along with the stench and Dylan's heavy breathing.