My brother was one of those people who would claim that he was street smart and not book smart. He would be out hanging around with his friends or working dead end jobs.

I on the other hand spent my time getting a good education as I knew that it would benefit me in the long run. I tried to control my smirks while listening to my brother prattle on about his street smarts. I loved him but honestly it came across as pathetic.

In the last few months my brother is constantly reminding me how we wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for him. I ignore his attempts at trying to annoy me as I read through numerous books hoping for an answer.

We were sitting in the bedroom having our dinner when we heard the noises downstairs. I could see the panic cross his face as he knew they had discovered us. I started packing my books into my backpack while he urged me to hurry.

We rushed out of the room and were immediately confronted by dozens of undead climbing the stairs. My brother grabbed a knife as they began rushing towards us.

I felt a stinging pain in the back of my leg and collapsed to the floor in agony. I lay in shocķ staring at the bloody knife clutched in his hand. He shrugged his shoulders at me before jumping out onto the fire escape. I tried to follow him but was overwhelmed by the undead.