Chapter 1:

The sandy deserts of Arizona were more desolate than usual. Standing adjacent to a dark-green cactus was a man who had 'The finest moustache in the USA' ( according to most people who came across him). Except for the most expert marksman in the Wild West who was standing about 50 meters from him. He was holding two magnums and was ready to shoot. Any minute now... BANG!!!

"HA HA HA!" cried moustache man ( His real name was Trevor Arizonan, don't ask why)

"YOU MISSED!", he laughed "You're very lucky nobody is watching, you might get away with missing again. Or even dancing the Hootenanny.

"You always miss the trick, Trevor," he said cooly, "An expert marksman never misses."

There was another deafening BANG!!! and Crimson red blood covered the sand.

The expert marksman went to the now dead body of Trevor Arizonan, his usually sky blue eyes seemed to be lifeless, and have had the colour turned into a cloud of grey oblivion. All the marksman seemed to care about was the pulse of Trevor ( which was a matter of fact now completely gone ) but then quick as a flash moved on to the pockets of his navy blue denim trousers. There was 20 $100 notes in one and in the other, a small scrunched up piece of paper. The marksman unrolled it, and fixated his oak brown eyes on it. Two words were on it written in a light blue pen. It simply said...

They're coming

Now someone like you and me who have had absolutely no personal experience with Trevor Arizonan would not know what these simple , almost irrelevant words meant. But the marksman had enough experience with him that he knew exactly what this meant. One million thoughts raced through his mind, and many of them involved getting out of this 'wretched earth' and somehow escaping to another planet. This note meant much more than you think dear reader.

For this meant war. This meant the apocalypse. This meant your darkest fears. This meant zombies.

The marksman sat down for a few seconds, wondering who would believe him about this. He knew that the police definitely wouldn't, and neither would anyone in the Wild West. “Who would believe me?" he asked himself, the sandy dust of the ground driving past him due to the light winds. “My mother is dead, My Father is dead, almost everyone in my family is dead, almost all of my family is dead."

”Except for me said another voice," this time western and girlish.

“Roxanne!" The marksman shouted as quietly as he could, as to not draw attention.

Roxanne looked at her brother, but then turned her eyes to Trevor, and asked

”What happened to him?"

”He brought it on himself" responded the marksman

”How-" she tried to ask another question but the marksman interrupted her

”

"

You may be my wife, but I'm going to tell you this story later, and don't ask questions"

He took a slight pause and then showed her the note.

She looked shocked and her face clearly said, no, it's not possible, but her eyes and brain knew that it was going to happen.

''We need to get out of here." They both said and made their way away from the desert.