December 16th, 2014, Tthe dawn of modernity was just beginning to arrive via the sunlight cracking the sky across the horizons. The wheels of an orange 1979 International Harvester Scout II freeze mid-spin, producing a loud screech with deep black tire markings engraving themselves into the road in its wake and collides into the rear of a deep blue Ford Thunderbird with a loud crunch of the aluminum being split open along with the trunk from the heavy SUV vehicle colliding into the tiny vehicle, startling a femiine orange haired boy out of his slumber. "Yo...?" The auburn haired boy pokes his head up from the passenger seat, wiping his left eye with a soft, slurred mumble. "What's going on, Zack? Did we hit a moose?"
"Oh, no. Nah. We didn't hit an animal but why don't you go back to sleep, Jeff?" Without making a move to nudge his brother back down onto the reclined passenger seat, a heavily charred bipeda begin to approach the rumbling SUV, spurring Zack into taking an action. "Buckle up now!" Zack exclaims, his brown orbs flick up at the rearview mirror with both of his eyebrows scrunched.
"Fucking cool! Are we going to break a law?" Piped the twin boy seated beside his brother.
Zack's attempts to respond is abruptly interrupted by the rumbling four wheeled large machinery roaring to life, Zack has stepped on the pedal after cranking the clutch with his other hand still gripping on the brown leathery steering wheel, giving it a sharp turn, prompting it into spinning around and wheel over a small concrete barrier with a violent spark flying free from metal grinding against the concrete to join the fleeing vehicles. "What the fuck? Fuck! FUCK! Fucking son of a bitch! What in the loving fuck is those things?!" Shouting to himself through his clenching teeth at the very sights of people rising from the floor and consume the still screaming and kicking people in the middle of a street, the strange bizarre entities reminded him of something he saw in his twin's magazines, books. Zombies.
"...cool." Piped the twin in the passenger seat. Without even mustering up an ability to tell his twin, Jeff, to shut the fuck up out of fear that his concentration would be shattered, his jaw hangs ajar until a random frenized half-infected  bashes itself into the hood of the running SUV, the impact of the SUV causes the infected's body to rupture in a violent fashion, and the being bounces off the windscreen with most of its intestines spilling freely from its torn abdominal cavity as it cartwheels mid-air without placing much of a dent into the grill, infecttious blood lathering most of the windscreen is another different story. It certainly didn't help that his brother was basically shierking on the top of his lungs, partially deafening him.
Thump, thump, thump. The sickening sounds of varying bodies being flattened by the vehicle reverberate through the heavy metal frame of the shuddering Scout until Zack snaps out of his little daze, activating the wipers with a shuddering groan of the wipers straining to push assortments of body parts off the windscreens with wiper fluids washing most of the crimson fluids tinged with bodily fluids off, granting Zack some visibility.
The blood streaked Scout roars its way through Park Street, narrowly avoiding every parked vehicle by simply rushing through infected, chewed up denizens, and takes a sharp turn towards a massive gate with a small billboard sitting beside the sideway reading 'Disneyland' and stops in the parking lot.
"Allright, Jeff." Zack begins, giving the handle of his door a pull, popping it open, and steps out of the vehicle, pocketing his key. Zack gives a short glance around his surrounding, his almond brown hues scanning the horizons for a sign of a mutated life, or hopefully a fellow human being, and a sigh leaves him. "Shit, thank God we're alone. Don't touch the blood or anything, it could be contaminated." Zack tiptoes towards the rear of the SUV, keeping his feet flat against the asphalt, ensuring that he won't make a sound, and he gives the handle on the rear door a pull with a resounding *ka-clunk*, announcing their presence to nobody in particular but the sound made the brothers freeze for a good minute before resuming. Jeff draws a crossbow, slinging a shotgun over his shoulder. "Get your handgun ready." The red haired boy hurriedly steps up to the vehicle and retrieves a  titanium pry bar, shoving into his backpack along with other varying supplies. Eventually, the brothers braves on towards the heavy rusty brown metal trapdoor leading into the storm shetler. Jeff pulls the door open with a creaking groan of protest of the rusty metal scraping together and steps down into the room with a muffled squeak of his oiled combat boots striking the concrete stairsteps with his brother trailing behind.
Upon arriving into the storm shetler, there is nothing but utter silence save for the dripping leaky pipes, a hodgepodge of chairs and tables stacked atop each others, and a poorly lit ceiling lamp in the middle, constantly flickering with a hint of something being chewed on which Jeff dismisses with an image of a normal rodent chewing on a random object on mind. The older twin brother calmly produces forth a military anglehead flashlight and flips the switch, scanning the horizons with the light piercing the vast darkness with no signs of lifeform. "Allright, we'll make do here, we can get some food from scho-"
Stunned into silence, Zack's eyes basically bulge out of their eyesockets at the sight of a pack of hungry, ravenous children poking their noses where they don't belong over the shoulders of their family. One thing that they didn't count on is the smell of blood and rotting meat lingering  in the air.
"Damn it." The younger twin with hair of snow remarks with a note of irritation behind his voice. The other family member only can scream. The light goes out along with the thud of a metal rusted door falling in place, the concrete walls, ceiling and floor within the storm shetler are quite effective at muffling the combined screams, gunshots, skulls being shattered under the force of a shotgun acting like a club.

Many years later.

A sickening squelch of brain matters being impaled by a crossbow bolt occurrs in the air under Jeff's dexterious grip, the fiery haired boy grips a thin recently turned man whose brain got speared by the collarbone and shoved the corpse out, hopping into the Suzuki Samurai. "Hey Zack! This car is good! And l-" Jeff's head dips into a nod at the billboard reading:
Arklay Island
We have food & shetler!

Zack's gaze follows his twin's gaze and nods in agreement. "Yeah, let's get going." With that said, he slides into the passenger seat of the Suzuki Samurai, slamming the door shut with Jeff busily hotwiring the car until a spark occurs, indicating that it's ready, and Jeff leans back into his seat, slamming into the pedal with a sharp roar of the engine revving to life.