You can't be alone in this world. I tried after my parents died. Who will cover you back when you go in full on zombie killing mode? Who is the shoulder to cry on? Though I don't cry, or at least I ball up all my emotions until it is literally too late to control them, I just… snap.
The world doesn't feel as silent with Tobias' breath on the back of my neck, or his footsteps behind me. I can concentrate on that instead of whose mom I'm killing or when is the next meal.
I haven't showed in days, neither of us has… the world hasn't taken a shower in days and reeks of death. I used to think death was painless and dying hurts, here there is no end to the pain, death is pain here.
I don't want to think about that, I don't want to think about a lot of things. Yet when all I can hear is the pitter of Tobias' feet in front of me, I can't help but give in the letting my mind wonder. I did. As I look down at his combat boots that he had to pull off of a body, the sun lite the area around us in a bright florescent way, like this was a stage on a set.
My eyes scan the back of him, how muscular he is. His long legs walking along the road with his gun slung over his shoulder, and a bag over the other. He wears a black shirt with jeans and combat boots that suit him perfectly, I almost forget that they're stolen.
Over the black t-shirt is a tan jacket embedded with dirt. This was Tobias, dark hair thick and semi-sticking up. He was eighteen, has been for five months…I think. I'm pretty sure I am now sixteen but we both wear our pasts as a mask.
"Siren," he says. His back stiffens as he calls for my name in a stern tone. "Catch up." I roll my eyes and adjust my strap on my heavy bag before running up next to him. I look up at his face, still covered in patches of dirt. His face is plain and stares off out to the street.
My fingers tither through his and a surge of electrons pulse through and I feel as if I will melt when I am around him. It is nice to see I still have a girl interior. Then I frown, I don't want to have a girl interior, I want to be as fearless as Tobias.
"Four," I sigh, calling him his nickname. The reason, I will never tell. Some things even in an apocalypse need to be kept a secret.
He doesn't respond, only stares at the endless road of abandoned cars. My feet ache and my stomach grumbles. "Four," I say again trying to remember what I was going to ask, I bite my lower lip and feel the cracks from it drying out.
"Soon, I promise." He says. His voice is ringing in my head for some reason. I don't know why. His grip lightly squeezes my palm. I quiver.
The gun is a nine millimeter and sinks down in the back of my greyish-dirt pants. The feeling is still unnatural, how heavy the handle is, the kickback as I shoot. Tobias is built for things like this, his strongly built body could with stand anything. It is as if he had been shooting guns since he was five.
I smile, at least, even when the world is circling the drain, I will have him, telling me to keep up and scowling me if I do something wrong. In our group, he help teach shooting lessons, hence the skill, I never asked about his past before, and he never asked me. I am glad we keep these things to ourselves, it wouldn't matter anyways… we will still be running from zombies tomorrow.