[ RF ] Based on what you do as work/hobby , describe your survival in a zombie apocalypse .

Even the preppers did n't see it coming. The dead had started walking in the middle of the night. Daylight broke; it served no purpose whatsoever besides allowing us to gaze at the half-eaten maggot-infested living corpses of our loved ones, degraded to an unrecognizable extent. 
 
 Me, on the other hand? I was safe. I did n't have any loved ones. The unwanted orphan, you get the cliche. But I was happy, content, and for lack of a better word, wanted for nothing. My flat was not too big, not too small. Low enough that I could jump out and not get hurt, should the meds stop working. 
 
 Lucky me, being a bloody insomniac, I heard the walking dead trying to burst through my door, and failing miserably at that. I got my bat, packed some important belongings, and took a leap of faith. Or should I say, a mix of desperation, pants-pissing fear, sleep-deprived anger, and a general feeling of excitement. 
 
 It's been a few months now. Finally managed to settle down, made a name for myself as the local zombie killer. For me, I'm glad I managed to get forty winks after I settled into the Yorkshire colonies. And I practically became the colonies' lawman and sheriff. We've found out new ways to fight the zombies and boy, were they varied. 
 
 I awoke at the crack of dawn. There were the three of us, the chief, the deputy, and I. We met on that early autumnal morning at the top of the hill. We saw a horde of the big Zee heading our way. So we prepared. Once that was done, we were at our positions. And I swear, standing in those heavy cold winds, wielding a Telecaster, with about 750 watts of power behind me, I felt like a fucking legend!
