[ WP ] The zombie apocalypse is real and you are one of them , but you have n't lost your conscience .

`` Mornin, Dave.'' I rumble to the man shuffling past me on the sidewalk. 
 `` Urrrghrghh'', comes the rattly reply. I shake my head and continue my slow stroll down the sidewalk. Things just had n't been the same since the outbreak. Although honestly, the outbreak had been as cliche as possible. Started as a weird illness here and there, give it three weeks and people are eating each other like they're all an all-you-can-eat human buffet. 
 
 They got me about 4 weeks ago. I held out with my two little kids and my beautiful wife when they finally knocked down the door. I took down dozens with my old rifle but eventually they overwhelmed us. I do n't like thinking about that. 
 
 Honestly the turning was n't bad. No pain, just a warmth, like a blanket on a frosty winter's day. It did n't take me long to realise that I was exceedingly different from the rest of the zombies. Some slight changes to my physical appearance, sure. For one, I was a lot paler now. Hearing your heart not beat is a really weird experience. I had a leg drop off the other week, I wound up sewing it back on and was stunned when the bloody thing actually still worked. 
 
 I re-adjust the burlap sack hanging from my shoulders. Thank god zombies are strong, otherwise this would be a real pain. 
 
 Anyway, as I was saying. 
 
 A lot changed in those first few weeks. I spent most of them trying to get through to my family, hoping something reminiscent of what they used to be was still alive in there. Zip. Nada. Just mindless shufflers like the rest of them. 
 
 I finally get to the doorstop of my home and shuffle my hand around for my keys. I finally find them at the bottom, sitting next to something strange. I pull it out and am immediately irritated to find myself staring at my pinky finger. Just something else I'll have to sew back on. My keys make a familiar clunk as they turn the pins in the lock, and I swing my door open. 
 
 I smile as I see my family sitting at the table. Probably not too surprising honestly, considering I tied them to the chairs. I heft the sack off my shoulders and lift the heavy contents. Looks about 24 years old. Somehow amazingly un-turned. No apparent serious injuries. I give him one last dose of the anesthetic I nicked from the hospital, and lay him down on the table. Almost immediately my family starts tearing into him. Thankfully this one does n't wake up. 
 
 What can I say? A man has to feed his family.
