Chapter Six

I'm thinking I should tell you about my dad's family. I already told you about my mom's.

It's not the happiest of stories.

My paternal grandmother (Emma) was eight when the zombie outbreak happened. She was the only surviving member of her family. Her mother turned her dad and brothers into zombies. They tried to get her to join the club as well; but she was able to outrun them.

She met up with a survivor camp and never fit in very well. She was always an outcast. I'm not sure why.

Then things got worse when she was trying to shoot a zombie approaching a member of the group. She missed and shot the member of the survival group, instead of the zombie. Before she could shoot again, the zombie took a nibble.

The problem was this person in the group and Grandma Emma didn't get along. They were kind of adversaries. People thought she had done the whole thing on purpose. Sometimes (and I feel awful saying this) I think they might have been right.

But who knows.

I don't.

Anyway, Grandma Emma left the group after that. She was on her own. Then she got raped by another group…gang raped to be more precise. My dad came from that. So my heritage on that side is a bit hazy.

Grandma Emma….I feel bad for her. On the other hand, she's so difficult to be around. She's very abrasive. She never smiles. She looks bored when I talk to her.

I rarely talk to her anymore.

I try to avoid her.

I feel bad though since she's had such a hard life.

She didn't tell me about it. Neither did my dad. I learned it from my aunt, who was born ten years after my dad, not from a rape. My grandma had a happy five years. She finally found someone to love her…besides her five-year-old son. She got herself a woman. They got married. They adopted a baby. Then her wife died in a plane crash.

In a way I think that's worse than all the childhood zombie stuff.

Yeah. Grandma Emma is a bitter bitch. But can you blame her?

I don't. Yet I do try to avoid her.