 It all started when my dog died. Let's call him George. George had been my best buddy ever since I'd been 12, and as you can imagine, his passing away left a deep hole in my heart. Even bigger than the one I dug out in my backyard to bury him. However, as people say, I was sure that one day I'd move on from it. It was just that this process was taking far longer than I thought. I still found it hard to get up in the morning, and I still found it hard to believe that I would never hear George's footsteps as he bounded into the house. I used to hate how he'd always make a mess walking in, but now I wanted nothing more than for him to walk in and tear the furniture to pieces one more time. In my grief, my sleeping pattern was pretty messed up. I ended up taking a nap in the afternoon that lasted well into the evening, and as you can imagine, I didn't really feel like sleeping later on at night. I decided that maybe taking a walk would clear my mind a little. I didn't want to be in my house, as it brought back memories of George. George and I would usually go and take a walk in the nearby park, so I went on another route. This one ended up leading through the cemetery, which was a bit unnerving, but I didn't want to turn back at that point. It was during this walk that I saw something I wasn't expecting. A large group of people gathered around in a circle off in the distance. At first, I thought it might be the local PTA meeting coming together. Though now that I look back on what I saw, that seems unlikely. After all, all of these people were wearing strange black cloaks and had this weird ornament around their necks. They were wearing masks. Nothing weird about that in these times, but these completely hid their faces. They were also holding knives, and one of them was tied up and gagged. And to mention, why would the PTA meet outside the school? That too in a cemetery near midnight. Yeah, they probably weren't the PTA, but I hadn't pieced that out at the time. So I decided to walk up to them and say, hello. Thinking that some conversation might take my mind off of things. One of them saw me approach and screamed, we've been found. Run! All at once, the gathered people scrambled away in random directions, even taking the man who had been tied up with them. I was rather upset, as you can understand, that these people were avoiding me. How rude do you have to be to run away right when you see someone? Anyway, I noticed something on the ground. It appeared that these people had dropped something in their hurry to get away from me. It was a rather thick book with the title written in a language whose letters I didn't recognize. So I assumed that it might have been French. I'd taken Spanish and Scolesey, so I had no knowledge of French. Now these people might have been rude to me, but I figured I should still return the book to them. The only thing was, I didn't know who any of these people were. And the book didn't have an owner mentioned on the cover. While it is definitely not a nice thing to go through someone else's belongings, this could have been someone's diary for all I knew after all. I did want to return it to its owner and had no clue as to who that was. And so, I began reading it. The text inside was also in that strange language, but someone had scribbled out what I guessed were translations in English. The handwriting even seemed a little familiar, but I chose to ignore it at the moment as my attention got to a page about something called necromancy. Apparently, it was possible to bring back to life someone or something as a zombie. It immediately piqued my interest as it meant that I might be able to see George again. I decided that I could hold back on giving the book back. I wanted to see if it was possible to bring back my dog first. I was sure whoever owned the book didn't need it back urgently or anything. Of course, I wanted to be sure about what I was doing first. I called my local veterinarian's office the next morning to ask about his medical opinion on bringing back an animal with dark magic, but I was swiftly disconnected. Sadly, both the WHO and the CDC didn't have any information on this, so I just decided to go ahead with it. Now, the whole thing required some ingredients, which I couldn't exactly find on Amazon or even eBay. So it took some time to gather them together. When I was done and the next new moon rolled around, I stood outside over George's grave and read out the incantation written in the book after I placed the regents over the grave. At first, nothing happened, so I was kind of disappointed, but then I heard something. It sounded like muffled scratching beneath the earth. I began clearing it off and eventually came upon a wriggling paw. A while later, an eyed unearthed George. He was a bit decomposed, but surprisingly, he didn't smell at all. He barked happily as he saw me and I saw recognition in his eyes. Yeah, there were a couple of issues. For one, George seemed to reject everything that I wanted to feed him. He was undead, so I wasn't sure if this was an issue. Fortunately, he was a lot more aggressive at times trying to bite off my head. He never succeeded, though. But I just thought this aggression was a side effect of having been buried. After all, I think I'd be a bit cranky too if I was buried underground for a few weeks. I decided to ignore these small flaws and instead spend as much time as I wanted with George. I can't describe to you how amazing it was to finally be with him after having lost him. It felt as if I was whole again. Aside from a few violent outbursts, he was just as playful as he'd always been. While it was nice playing around with George, I remembered the book and the fact that I was supposed to return it. See, I'd said that I sort of recognized the handwriting. I thought I belonged to my neighbor, who I'll call John, here, and so I showed up at his house holding the book. Here, John, I think you dropped this. I said, immediately his face turned to one of shock and he vehemently denied owning it. But, uh, this is your handwriting, right? I pointed out. He said no, it must be some mistake, and that I should take the book away and leave. He kept looking around frantically, as if afraid that someone might be watching us. All right, if you don't want it, I said, pausing, but I should thank you for this. I mean, I managed to get my dog back thanks to this. His eyes widened as I explained what I'd done, and he began to freak out even more, asking to see my dog. I complied. After all, John had played with George before. I took John to visit George, and John began to freak out for some reason. I thought he'd be happy to see George again, but he didn't share my joy at having my pet back. I think this is what set George off, because he's normally such a friendly dog. But he went ahead and bit John on the leg. It was a shallow bite, and I offered to wash it with some soap and water before driving him to get a rabies shot, but John just sprinted away at that point, and I had to hold George back to prevent him from attacking John. I got that John was kind of rude to George, but still, I didn't want my dog to hurt John anymore. The next day, I got a call from John's number, but it was from his wife. Let's call her Jane. She told me how John had been acting weird ever since he'd come with me to see George, and she was asking if he'd taken drugs or something. I asked her what he was doing that was so weird, and she said that his skin was now grayer, and he'd bitten her last night in bed. I told her I thought that was kind of kinky and not what I'd be comfortable with, but if it was what the two of them wanted to do, I had no real business judging them for it. For some reason, she got frustrated when I said this, and she hung up on me. Those have gotten progressively weirder over the week since then, guys. My town has been put into lockdown for the past three days. It's something different. People have been whispering about zombies, but they've hushed up now that the military has been involved in his station troops here. I hear gunshots occasionally throughout the day, and so I had to move George inside since he gets agitated easily by loud sounds. I won't lie, I'm getting kind of scared now. I haven't heard from John or Jane for a couple of days, and they aren't picking up their phone. I can't help but feel that somehow I might be responsible for all that's happening. But even if there is a zombie apocalypse, all zombies can't be bad, right? I mean, George is one, and he seems to be fine for the most part. I really hope the military doesn't feel like they have to take George away. That's what scares me the most. I can't stand losing him a second time. What do you guys think I should do? Please answer quickly. I think they might cut off our internet, and I'd like some advice before they do.