Maybe I could just give up. You know... just let it be. Throw my hands up in the air, fall to my knees and yell to whatever God there may be that would do this to us. I would simply stop caring, stop hunting, stop eating and most importantly, stop defending myself. It would be so easy. So much easier than trying to survive. It would be just like fading away. And on some days, that seemed okay to me.
This thought has crossed my mind many times before now. If I slowed down, even just a little, I'd be dead in a matter of moments. It wouldn't be a fast death either. It would be slow and painful. Maybe it's the pounding of my heart in my ears that's blocking out the sounds of certain death that makes all this negativity floating around my mind not so scary. But then again, my idea of what is scary has drastically changed over the last few months.
I can see the exit sign at the end of the hallway now. Dead ahead. It's no longer illuminated. No electricity to be found here. The axe swings a bit harder as I try to get my legs to move faster. But it's impossible. The lack of food and sleep have taken a toll of my physical strength. Not to even mention my emotional state. If I make it out of this door alive, we'll be good on food for a while. And even if I don't, my death should allow Taylor enough time to get the food and get out safely. At least I can go knowing my death will not be in vain.
But I'm not giving up yet.
I don't dare steal a glance behind me. I keep my eyes ahead. With the situation at hand it'd be a deadly mistake but with the weight I'm carrying, I would die surely. They were too close to make one wrong move. One hand held a large axe, in the other was an industrial sized garbage bag full of canned foods and pasta; on my back was my entire means of life reduced down to simply a backpack and on my feet, my home. Literally. I was easily carrying my own weight and then some.
Fifteen feet in front of me now. Almost there. I can't will myself to move any faster. Ten feet. I can see Taylor peering through the small slant that's the glass window in the metal double doors as he yanks it open. I can see he's yelling and waving towards me to come on, willing me to safety. But I hear nothing.
Three feet. I muster up the strength to sling the bag as hard as I can. It lands with a thump and slides as it hits the pavement outside of the doors in the safety of the daylight. Taylor is ready to slam the door as soon as I'm out of the way. Now that some of the extra weight is off of me, I feel myself moving faster.
When I break through into the sunlight, I hear the door slam behind me and I'm already in mid-turn, ax raised, ready for battle. But it was not necessary. Taylor was already shoving a large metal pipe through the door handles. I rushed forward, slipping off my backpack as I approached.
I sat down my ax as I knelled and felt around blindly in the pack. To my right, Taylor fiddled with a lock on a long line of heavy chain ensnared around the handles as the doors started being pushed against and the groans of the dead I had blocked out before started to fill my ears.
It would seem ridiculous in the old world how calm and collected we were after all that. And it was, actually.
I walk to his side. We both stared blankly at the door as the corpses groan and push with all their might to get at us. I feel his hand on my back; Taylor always tried to make a simple touch comforting... and somehow he could for me.
I handed him the can I had dug out of my sack.
He nodded and stepped forward as he shook up its contents without a word.
A few moments later, in the place of where there once was a blank grey double door, a door that children once passed through without a care in the world, stood a door that held an ominous warning.
BEEN RAIDED. DEAD INSIDE. DO NO ENTER.
My brother stole a glance back at the bag and then to me.
With a smile and a kiss on my forehead, he said "G'job sis."
This was our life now. This is what my brother and I did to survive. We raided stores, schools, markets, pharmacies... anywhere that may contain something essential to our survival. We camped outdoors, slept strapped high in trees or in abandoned homes and various buildings, hunted, fished, collected water... it was basic living. But it was living. I had killed to survive. He had killed to survive. Every breath we took was because of someone else's last, no matter how that last breath was taken. And our body count would only rise in our wake the longer we were breathing. It was inevitable.
My name is River Holden and I survived the zombie apocalypse. Well, so far at least.
It had been 92 days since the out break. At first it seemed like just a viral out break of some kind... nothing serious. We've had out breaks before, right? Who would've thought they would see something even the government couldn't handle, that sent the world into ruins, in their lifetime?
My brother and I had watched the news intently when it was apparent this was no ordinary event. We watched the events unfold, the world fall to pieces and crumble before our eyes.
When we had exhausted all our resources at home, we packed what we could, left what we couldn't, and moved on without a look back. Our father had been adamant about us knowing how to shoot and hunt. Thankfully, because in the new world, this is what kept us alive.
Today started like any other day. We had been fortunate enough to come across a chicken coop full of chickens that had survived, so for the first time in a long time, we had scrambled eggs for breakfast. Granted it was paired with squirrel.
We had done all we could around the camp site and had decided to hunt the woods nearby since we just relocated to this spot the day prior. We continuously had to relocate due to numerous factors... herds passing through, exhausting resources, hunting to woods clean... it was frustrating at times.
My brother and I made an excellent pair at hunting. Though we both preferred to do it alone, we normally accompanied each other because it was better to not be alone in the woods unless necessary.
I strolled through the woods with ease. Barely any noise was made between the two of us. I had my bow raised and ready; a Beretta, hunting knife and tomahawk hung from my waist, another knife in my boot. This wasn't uncommon anymore.
The sun hung high in the Georgia sky. It's heat baring down on us with no mercy. But the dense woods shielded us from it's rays. The wildlife seemed to be unconcerned with the state of the world. The birds sang their merry songs without a care. I envied them in a way.
I let out a low whistle as I took down a squirrel that was going up a nearby tree. This was our signal to slow down, the tracks were picking up. I bent down and scanned the forest floor for a better assessment. The prints were fresh and we were hot on it's trail. A deer. About medium build by my estimates. I stole a glance back at my brother who nodded. He was about twenty feet behind me. I continued on with a stiff nod in return.
A ways ahead, I stopped and leaned against a tree. I let out a three note tune. This meant I would take the kill. As I peaked around the tree, I spotted the buck. I drew back on my bow, readying myself. I came out from around the tree and aimed, letting my arrow fly. Unfortunately for me, that wasn't the only weapon being discharged in this part of the woods.
It took me a moment to register the sound of the gun shot. I looked ahead and saw two men and a young boy running towards me. The looks on their faces were pure shock. Looking back, I saw my brother's horrified face. He was yelling something but I couldn't make it out. Nothing was making sense. Why were they all so worried? It was just a damn deer. I felt myself lose control of my hands and drop my bow onto the ground. Curious as to why this had happened, I looked down. That's when I saw the growing red patch of blood on my tank top. Without meaning to, I fell to my knees as the men reached me.
"Back up!" I heard my brother yell as he closed in on us. His glock raised and ready to kill.
"We didn't mean to! We were hunting the same deer! I told my son to take the shot, and he missed. We didn't know anyone else was out here." The man in the sheriff's uniform explained quickly.
The young boy stood back away from me. The look on his face was pitiful. I felt sorry for him. He looked like he was about to burst into tears.
I felt my breath become as ragged and distressed as the look on my brother's face.
The other man with a cross bow draped over this shoulder knelt down in front of me. "C'mon, we gotta camp close by 'nd a doctor."
He picked me up and everything faded to black.
