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Somewhere in one of the more remote areas of Virginia, there was a small, surprisingly efficient hospital. Patients tended to get better on their own while within this hospital, (more often than not, while in the waiting room, no less.) The story going around town was that the place was haunted.
    The Takala's knew better.
    The Takala Family Band was a small folk group that only did small things, like play at local wedding receptions, and occasionally a banquet or two, but mostly they played in the waiting room of the hospital.
    And that was the hospital director's secret.
    You see, the Takala's had the rare ability to have their music physically affect the world around them. This meant that many of their melodies could actually increase the efficiency of the human immune system, or stop the spread of malignant tumors.
    The reason the Takala's moved to America is to live in anonymity, and avoid having their gift exploited. However, when Aulis Takala saw the sick and troubled people of his new home, he couldn't stand by idly, so he talked to the director and made an exchange: The hospital would become incredibly efficient, but the Takalas could not be advertised because of it. Being a reasonable man, the director agreed.
    However, in the wake of the rising dead, the Takala's have been forced to remain in their houses, playing healing music, causing the zombies antibodies to fight the disease which was causing their reanimation.
    It was kind of ironic, when one thought about it.
    In the corner, Young Zack Takala, only 17, and still naive about the world posed the question:
    "Why don't we use our music to help others quell back the zombies?"
    "Because we can't avoid detection if we make our abilities obvious." Replied Zack's father.
    "But we won't HAVE to avoid detection if everyone's dead!" Protest Zack.
    "Exactly."
    There was a moment of silence here, at which point Zack, stopped playing, and looked at his acoustic guitar.
    He doesn't even care about the lives of others! Just as long as the stupid family secrecy is kept... Zack realized that at this point, his family was willing to weigh the human race against a bit of publicity, and that he wasn't. Infact, he had unconsciously started walking towards the door.
    "Zack...? Where are you going?" His father asked.
    "Dad, I'm going to make a difference."
    And with those words, Zack left.
    He hadn't gone far either, when he saw a white Volvo station wagon, being driven by a man wearing all black. Zack waved his arms frantically, signaling that he needed a ride, and the car pulled over, and the passenger window rolled down.
    "Who was the seventh king of England?" Asked the man in the driver's seat.
    "Um.... What?" Asked Zack in reply.
    "Good enough, you're not one of them." The man laughed in reply, as he unlocked the doors.
   Zack stood there for a moment, unsure of what to make of this.
    "Well, you gonna stare blankly into space, or are you going to get in the car?" The man said, this time a bit angrily. Zack thought about his options, either he got in a car with a potentially dangerous man, or he had to fight hundreds of zombies that he knew were dangerous.
    It wasn't much of a choice, Zack got in the car. He sat in silence as the man in black drove for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, that man decided to break the silence.
    "So, you got a name, son?"
    "Huh?"
    "What do they call you! What's your name?!"
    "Oh... Zack." This answer seemed to satisfy the man, as he nodded, then, after a small pause, "my name is Frazier, it's nice to meet you, Zack."
    "Yeah, it's a pleasure and all, Frazier." Zack said, somewhat unsure of the usual social protocol for meeting someone in the middle of a zombie invasion was.
     He decided that quelling his curiosity was probably the first thing on his list.
    "So Frazier... Where are you headed, going about twenty miles over the speed limit?"
    "The government announced on the radio a little while ago that any survivors should- Hold on a second," Frazier paused, so that he could swerve the car, and take out a zombie, "should report to Shadow Ilse University."
    Zack was unsure whether to be impressed, or scared that Frasier was so calm in this situation.
    "Of course it might be a trap of some kind," Frazier continued, "but that's why I brought the Cremator there." He smirked as he pointed to a contraption in his back seat, it was covered in wires, and ended in a satellite dish, the basic shape could be seen as a gun of some sort.
    "Um.... Does that work?" Zack asked, somewhat haphazardly.
     Frazier grinned a toothy grin, and said nothing.

End of Prolouge.

Authors note: Bleh, I suck at writing family dialouge, as you probably have noticed. Ah well, the family is gone for the most part, and I'm about to start on Chapter one!
Hopefully I'll be able to get one of these up a day, and therefore work out the plot fairly quick.
I promise, the action will be pretty good, when we actually get to it.

Frazier Kaminski had always had a boring life, he worked a boring job as an IT clerk, he lived in a boringly small house in a boring neighborhood.
Frazier Kaminski's picture was next to Boring in the dictionary.
However, as you very well know as an attentive audience, some of the most heroic protagonist come from mundane backgrounds, and our boring Frazier was no different.
It was the morning of August 6th, 2009. In the small town, recessed somewhere in the depths of Delaware. (Frazier himself would later comment "What? Oh yeah, I guess I did have a life before all of this, somewhere back there. In that town or something.") When Frazier awoke to peculiar moans and pained screams outside of his window.
    "HEY! C'mon! Have some decency you guys!" He muttered as he lurched out of bed, and looked to see which house these were coming from.
Instead he saw barely human figures, lurching about his front yard.
    "Ah, horseshit." Frazier muttered, quickly throwing on a pair of dark sweats and a heavy black shirt.
Being something of a nerd, Frazier often hypothesized about the hypothetical, and, being a reasonably intelligent fellow, Frazier had come up with a solution to most of the problems he had come up with.
One such problem was a zombie survival plan.
    His plan was a simple one, he grabbed his katana for momentary protection, and dashed to his tool-shed. Once there, Frazier grabbed all sorts of power drills and soddering equipment, and strapped it across his back. He then turned to go back to his house, but was greated by three zombies, complete with rotted faces. Frazier only smiled though, "Guess I'm sending some of you back to hell, huh?" (Again, Frazier lived a boring life and had all sorts of free time to think of one-liners.) With this retort, our thought-out hero grabbed for his katana, and sliced in a perfect semi-circle, cleaving his undead assaulters clear in two.
    "Haha, I knew all my practice was not to go to wa- GAAAAH!"
He had barely finished retorting, when one of the half-zombies grabbed for his ankle. Frazier quickly, jumped, stepping on the creature's head, and pushing it down, using it's momentum to propel himself over it's writhing feet, quickly scrambling into his house and closing the door.
Once safely inside, Frazier hurried down to his crowded basement, where he grabbed a large, plastic bin labeled "Inlaws" and flung it open. Inside was a heavy, black frock, two car batteries, a small satellite dish, a microwave, and some plastic handles.
"And now, to work." Frazier cackled maniacally, as he opened the case to his power drill.
    Two hours and several voided warranties later, Frazier smiled. His masterpiece, was finished.

Authors Note: No, the Prolouge doesn't end here, but I've got things to do today, so stay tuned to find out basically everything else about this story!