When the end comes, it won't be the smartest or the bravest or the best among us who will survive. It will be the ones that make the hard choices, the ones that have that built-in survival skill - those one will survive. In Zone One, Mark Spitz (everyone has a new name at the end of the world) is an average guy from Long Island who managed to live this long into the zombie apocalypse. He's joined the re-formed military and is a sweeper, assigned to clean out the office towers and Chinese restaurants of Zone One. Everything is run from Buffalo and the outlook is grim for humanity, even with sponsorship opportunities for warlords who have managed to secure beer distribution routes and athletic shoe warehouses. Everyone is damaged from the trauma, and for Mark Spitz it manifests itself in a almost reckless disregard for his own life.
Too literary to use the word zombie, the author calls them skels (short for skeletons). The plague has divided them into two groups - ones that try to eat your brains and ones trapped in a pre-life daze that causes them to sit at desks or or stand at a hot dog cart. The prose sings, even if at times it's laid on a bit too thick. A believable look at the zombie apocalypse, the novel reminds you what it means to be human.
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