Troy Baltthius , age 32, financial advisor, divorce', homeowner with only 25 years left on my mortgage, owner and manager of a fantasy football team, father of 1, survivor.......
This isn't your typical undead survivor story, I'm no hero, not even a survivalist, I can honestly say that I lack the survival skills of your modern day girl scout, too nervous and shy to simply ring a strangers doorbell. But, there's something that keeps me alive, keeps me fighting, and that's knowing that my little girl is alive and waiting for me. I'm going to do whatever it takes to get to her and keep her safe. However, after my wife decided to leave me and take custody of Elora (that's my daughters name), I was forced to move from our quiet town in New Jersey to an overpopulated area in the Bronx, I know this is gonna be a hell of a task.
I'll never forget my first encounter with the "undead." It was only an hour or so after the first televised warning that something was spreading, and spreading fast. They were not quite sure who was the first infected, or how they were infected, but one thing was for sure, we were to get as far away as possible from the infected because they became incredibly hostile and a bite could easily infect us, and these things were hungry.
I was on the phone with my daughter telling her to stay calm and that Daddy was coming for her. You see, she was all alone because her mother was rushed to the nearest hospital with her new boyfriend after she claimed that she was bitten by the crazy old man two houses down. And the babysitter quickly fled the scene, knowing about this epidemic, I mean would you stay for 5 bucks an hour and risk your life for someone else's kid?
Anyway, I had just finished telling Elora to quickly run out to the shed that I paid to have built a few years back, that doubles as a bomb shelter (anything to protect my baby girl), when a neighbor's car ran right through my living room, ripping the phone wire right out of the wall and forcing me to drop to the floor in fear.
When I came back to my feet, I quickly ran to the driver side of the car to see if she was OK, no pulse. There was nothing I could do for her so I went in search of my cell, which was lying on the couch that her car so conveniently happened to be resting on.
Couldn't find the goddamn cell under all the chunks of my living room wall when I noticed that something was missing, the woman in the driver seat. Uh no, I didn't go looking for her, I'm not an idiot, I've seen way too many horror movies where the curious ones get butchered, no thank you. Instead, I ran for the nearest exit, which was not the obvious gaping hole in the side of my house, the front door seemed more civilized. "Oh, there she is" I said to myself, while she stood there between me and my exit. She didn't look much different from her former, living self, she was in the earliest stage of the infection. Her motor skills appeared to be off and her head rested on her shoulder because of the broken neck she received from her recent accident. She didn't look too happy to see me, trust me, I wasn't too happy to see her either. She had this incredibly lifeless look in her eyes like the motor was running but nobody was behind the wheel.
With her hands reaching out for me, she lunged in my direction for a taste, that hole in my living room was looking pretty good right about now. I reached for the nearest melee that I could grab, which happened to be a desk lamp in my main hallway, and swung for the fences. The lamp connected with her head and knocked her straight to the floor. I ran right to my Nissan Altima through the newly created exit in my living room, got into the car and drove as far as I could without getting caught in a traffic jam of others trying to escape. I got about 2 blocks....
That was about 6 days ago, and since then, I've been forced to travel on foot, slowly making my Way to the G.W Bridge, just another step closer to my little girl, I hope she's safe, I hope she can be strong..