Chapter 1
My brother always told me I was ruthless. And where I was focused on surviving-where we'd get the next drop of water, the next tin of sardines... he would be lost to the world around us. And not killing what didn't directly harm us. Somehow he was certain there were other people out in the rotting world. That was what caused him to slip up, to crumble.
His death had changed the slight allowance inside me. Instead of staying in our safe house, I decided to seek out the world. Somehow, discovering what the world had to offer seemed to be what my brother's death told me. Like an irregular drum beat, I slayed zombie after zombie, and was intrigued by what I saw.
Roaring rivers and abandoned houses, we had lived in the woods, devoid of humans, but somehow there were animals roaming-which we kept in check by hunting daily. One day I was found by a band of men as I was hunting in an airfield for supplies. The few zombies less sensitive to light groaned around, stumbling and tripping as their skin sizzled.
Prettily, the sun was high in the sky, and I'd collected plenty of supplies which I snagged in my rucksack. I'd collected plenty of ammunition for my new sniper rifle-which, essentially I had no use for. My life seemed to have no purpose. I walked tirelessly, and when my foot was launched up into the air and my head snapped, hard, onto the ground, I was dragged into blackness.
Minutes later, I was aware of feeling sluggish and heavy-the blood rising to my head feeling like a tonne dragging me down. Sounds echoed in the distance and the world looked grey and speckly. My bag was missing from my back, and, pulling a dagger from my side, I reached up at the space above my legs, swiping furiously, and grunted as I cut through one of the thick ropes there.
And then my survival instinct was gone, and my breathing blustered furiously, the air suddenly cold, and my body fell like a sack toward the floor, barely held up. Exhausted, the grumbling of a car in the distance seemed inadequate.