Meet Rick. Rick is a tall, bearded construction manager who lives at 15923, Carter Road, Foreston, Washington State by himself.

Part 1: Discovery

Rick wakes up one beautiful Wednesday morning in his house that is sort of out in the sticks, but not really. It is 6 in the morning, so none of his neighbors are up yet, except for Mr. Johnson, who must have slept in because his car was still in the drive. Nothing alarming about that, Mr Johnson has had a couple of incidents such as that in the past, everyone has occasionally. He slid into his junker Chevy, blinked a couple times, yawned, and started the ignition.
As he started to hit the highway, he turned the radio on. It was the Emergency Broadcasting System, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.
"God damn stupid tests" he mumbled and turned it off. He was now getting a creepy feeling, for there were almost no cars going in his direction on Highway 107. About ten minutes later he took his exit, turned the corner and saw a large group of people huddled over something in the middle of the road, tearing at it... He hit the brakes as hard as he could, but the truck didn't stop and ran over the mass of people. Rick immediately climbed out of the Chevy, putting his hard hat on out of instinct and went to the mass of corpses.
"Oh damn!" he whispered and was going back to his truck to drive away, when one of the corpses rose, moaning.
"Hey, it was an accident, I'm sorry man!"
At a closer look, it seemed that the guy's skull had caved in. Rick wondered how anyone could have survived that when the zombie charged at him, screaming.
Rick was caught by surprise and was knocked back hard on the ground, the living corpses teeth flashing at him, shaking him, screaming. As he was trying to throw the thrashing zombie off of him he secretly thanked his hard hat from saving him from the brutal impact of the concrete road. Rick's adrenaline pumped and he pushed the zombie into the air for a mere second when he heard a gunshot from close by and the zombie's head was blown off in a powerful blast. Rick got up slowly and saw a large SUV, probably bigger than a Hummer with police colors and sirens, with a very obviously armored front and tinted windows, the drivers side facing Rick rolled down and with a shotgun barrel sticking out, which receded and gave way to a slightly pudgy, friendly looking face that shouted
"Are you bitten?"
"Um, no."
"Good. Get in."

This story to be continued.