Max’s eyes flew open.  He whipped off the covers and leaped to the laptop, still in his underwear.  He opened the tab for Internet Explorer, and then waited several excruciating minutes for it to load up. 
When the tab was up, he quickly clicked the top of his favorites, ABC news.  He scanned the page.  Nothing.  Next news site.  Nothing.  Next.  Nothing.  With a sigh, Max leaned back in his chair.  Then he ran to the TV, and did the same routine, down every news channel he knew of.  He heard about terrorism, racism, and Clinton, but nothing that he wanted to hear.  Slightly disheartened, he turned off the television and got ready for work.
A half an hour later, Max stood on the NYC subway, surrounded by strangers.  He griped the strap by his head fiercely.  If only it would hurry up and happen, Max thought.  Just hurry up.  Then, before he finished his thought, the train stopped.  The doors slid open with a hum, and his jaw dropped.  Most of the people outside the train were dead, and the remaining were being chased down and eaten slowly.  Their screams filled Max’s ears, but all he could do was smile as the other passengers on the train fled toward the terror.  It had finally happened.
Zombies.
He held on to his strap tightly, to avoid being sucked out with mass of bodies.  As the wave of people stopped, he quickly let go and wrenched the doors shut.  He could hardly contain his grin, but managed as he turned around to assess the situation.  Only a few people had stayed behind, and they were all shivering with fear.  No one looked ready to face the horrors outside. 
Guess I’ll take charge, Max thought.  He pointed to a woman.  “I need you to go up and check the front of the train, see if the engineer is ok.  If you see any dead ones onboard, you need to come right back.  Don’t bother fighting it.”  As he finished, she rose, a little stronger. 
“Yes, sir,” she said, before moving through the doors to the head of the train.  She was visibly strengthened by his words, his directions.  Max felt a swell of pride, but fought it as he looked around the small room.  He knew every one of these people needed him, his cool head.  His experience.
“Um, mister?” An attractive woman asked him from the bench. 
“Yes?” He asked with a half-grin that he hoped was cute.  He already had a job decided for her.
“Could you stop staring at me like that?”  She asked, a little rude.  Suddenly, Max was back in the train car, surrounded by smelly people.  He was staring at the woman from his fantasies, which he realized must have been pretty creepy for her.
“O-Of course.”  Max apologized, looking at his feet.  He remained like that, not looking at anyone, for the rest of the lonely ride. 
Max finally exited the train, gasping for air.  I hate people, he thought.  In the zombie apocalypse they’d all be dead.  He looked at a random man walking near him.  You’d be dead, Max thought.  And you’d be dead, and you’d be dead, and you, and you…  He targeted everyone around him, wishing death by zombie upon all of them.
He entered the FedEx building.  “Late again,” Called a nasal voice from behind the counter.  It was Ms. Schmitt, the attendant of the office.
“Blame the train,” Max called back, more than a little annoyed.  This was every day, and he didn’t need her crap every time.  He stopped in the middle of the foyer, just so he could get a good view of the zombie shuffling up from behind her and chomping a chunk out of her neck.  She screamed and screamed, begging for his help, but he stood there.  He stood and watched the carnage until she reminded him that he needed to get his tail in gear.  With a grumble, he headed off.
Max sat in his truck, all the deliveries for the day already loaded up.  It was a lot, as usual.  He pulled out a random package and checked the address.  Reinhold Towers, 327 Southside.  He punched it into the GPS in his truck and started off on his daily drudgery.
His first customer was a fat man who was incredibly incompetent, and had to sign his name four times before he got it right.  He was the bait for Max’s group to survive, left to the zombies.
His second was a pretty blonde woman, who he ended up saving from the horde of zombies chasing them.  She fell for him, clinging tight to his powerful arms.  Who could blame her?
His third was a handsome man, who was too c***y for his own good.  Max shot him, and as he trudged back to his truck, he was rewarded with the thanks of the man’s neighbors, who told him he was trying to get them all killed.  But Max had fixed all that.
After twenty three more deliveries, he retired his truck for the evening and went to wait in the subway station.  After twenty minutes, his train came, and 45 minutes after that, he walked into his apartment. 
He stripped to his underwear, took at a piece of cake from the mini fridge, and sat at his small table.  “Happy birthday to me,” he quietly sang, blowing out an imaginary candle.  He finished the cake, checked the news for any signs of the apocalypse, and lay on his covers, slowly drifting off to sleep.