Did everything just taste blue for a second?

I've given myself two and a half weeks to let my arm heal. I can move it around and use the arm fairly well, considering I didn't set it very well and it now has an odd bend to it. I am anxious to get geared up and head out. Tom won't be joining me on this, he is to stay at the house and make sure no one else tries to move in; zombie or otherwise. Tom had noticed that during the day that zombies tend to migrate towards businesses. Drawn back to the places that they used to work, play, or shop. Funny how most of the people that are zombies now, were actually zombies then. Mindlessly doing as they are told by the government, their jobs, and television. Maybe this will be easier than planned.
Every muscle in my body is tight and quaking with the anticipation of the search and rescue. The events to come flashing in and out on my mind’s eye. I’ve had almost a month to prepare and I’m ready to light this candle. I grab my backpack full of goodies and gear up. Tom is going to give me some cover from the rooftop while I make my way down the street. I lower the ladder and hit the ground running. There aren’t any zombies in street but I want to make this as quick as possible. Three blocks down I run into my first group of zombies, five of them chewing on a corpse. I hopped up into a tree and watched the group for a moment. I noticed that they were all elderly people, senior citizen zombies, the thought made me laugh. What threat could a senior zombie possibly pose? They have no teeth to bite with, no strength to over power, and brittle bones that break easily. I grab the binoculars and get a closer look. The writhing mass of flesh that they were feeding on was in fact a child they had been able to over power as a group. They gummed at the flesh trying to tear off a tasty chunk only to come up with nothing. As I found out a month ago, if zombies have one thing going for them it’s their tenacity. Although they have no teeth, they continued to gnaw and gum at the boy until the flesh from their gums tore loose revealing the bone beneath. At this point they were able to start tearing the boy apart. I guess senior citizen zombies can be a threat! No point in wasting ammo, so I hopped out of the tree and continued to my dad’s house. Tom was right about the zombies being preoccupied during the day. The streets were fairly empty, but the damage was beyond belief. Houses with cars planted in them as if God herself had dropped them from the sky, bloody bodies lined the streets, fires raged out of control, and the air smelled of iron and rotting flesh. If there were ever a perfect depiction of Hell this would be it.
I made it to my dad’s neighborhood and it looked like a war zone. The once gated community with million dollar homes was reduced to rubble and ashes. Dad’s house was half gone, the section of the house that was once the master bed and my old bedroom had been ran through by a Mack truck. Tact and stealth is the only way to approach the house. If my dad is alive he’ll be well armed and by the looks of things he might just shoot anything that moves. I had taken this into consideration before leaving, and made a special hat that read, “My name is Quenton, and I’m alive. Please keep me that way!” I figured that he knew that head shots are the only true kill and prayed he could read my message through the scope. Once I made it within a block of the house the gunfire started. I heard the report of two shots and before I could react I heard a “Voomf!” and then ringing from the right side of my head. I drop and grab my head and this is when I found out my right ear had been blown off. “POP! I’m not a zombie you crazy old man! I can’t believe you shot me!”