The Walking Dead: This Road of Tears

Prologue

She could still hear the screams ringing through her ears. She could smell the strong odor of melted plastic in her nostrils, followed by scorched wood. Several days have passed and the awful memories still lingered in her mind. As much as she tried, she couldn't stop the visions overflowing; the horrible things she had seen and done never leaving her, never giving her peace.

The woman wanted to drive through the night but understood it wasn't a possibility. The walkers are always out at that hour, searching for prey like vampires on the prowl. But she hated to stop. Driving kept her focused and helped kept her mind off of what happened. When she would stop for the night, it was much worse. The guilt and the pain overwhelmed her and she felt the tears flood her eyes and the sobs choke her throat. But she still drove on, searching for a safe place to stay for the night.

She then scoffed at that thought for she knew too well there was never a safe place anymore. Safety doesn't exist in this world. It's just get up and run. No rest, no sleep, no peace. Not anymore.

The summer heat stifled her a little. Wearing the black leather jacket in this weather may not have been a good idea. It was cold earlier and now it was heating up. The woman decided to pull over to take it off and be a little bit more comfortable. She came to a stop, putting her brother's 1970 Dodge Challenger in park and removed her jacket, sighing out loud and resting her back against her seat.

The woman looked around the road she was on and saw nothing. No humans, no walkers or even garbage. It was empty just like the promises that were made to her, to her brother, to her husband by those who made them believe that in this chaotic world gone to shit there was still hope. A chance to live.

And right now, she wondered if there was such a thing anymore. For every where she went she saw the same thing; walkers behind store front windows growling at her as she walked by and people who tried to kill her for survival or pleasure. There just seemed to be no nothing left to live for now. No social media around to tell you where to go, radio's been off since this whole thing started, no military telling you where to go, not able to contact distant relatives to see if they're all right, no food recently stacked on grocery food shelves or pharmacies stocked up on meds. There was just nothing left anymore. No help. No hope. Nothing.

She didn't even have any pictures left of her family. And no record of her former life. She was nothing. Just another human surviving in this apocalyptic nightmare alone. What she was before doesn't mean shit.

She looked over to her right and saw a building in through the woods. She leaned forward and saw windows with alumnum shutters on each side. It was a house. She drove up slowly and quickly made out a driveway long covered by piles of leaves leading through the woods. She drove up to the driveway and turned right and found it twisting for a second until she reached a small cottage. The woman smiled a little. She saw that it had a garage where she can park her car for the night.

She quickly grabbed her Winchester rifle and got out of the car. She slowly crept up to the front door and knocked. Listening very carefully, she made out the low growl of the walker inside. It was only one and it comforted her a little to know there was no one living in there.

She pulled out her hunting knife and opened the door swiftly. The walker, a female, lunged after her. She put her hand against her chest and stuck her blade into its forehead. The walker slumped to the ground, emanating a slow rattle from its lungs. She then entered the house, sliding her knife back into its holder and aimed her rifle around the corners of the house. Seeing no one, she went outside and pulled the walker by its arms to the other side of the house.

She saw it wasn't ransacked which was a good sign. The first thing she searched was the kitchen. She flung the cabinet doors open and breathed a sigh of relief. She found a few cans of soup, stew and fruit along with granola boxes. They could keep for a while.

"Thanks," she whispered taking out the cans and boxes. But it wasn't in a grateful tone. She wondered if God was just prolonging the inevitable, that soon she would meet her end between a walker's teeth or a human's hands. She still didn't believe in hope. Not in this world.

~0~

Later that night, she ate her beef stew in the kitchen. Earlier she had parked her car in the garage and to her amazement she found two red five gallon fuel containers filled with unleaded gas. She couldn't believe her luck. Whoever owned this house left with the intention of coming back one day. But of course that never happened. And she pondered the notion of ever going back to Chicago herself. She had even thought about it after escaping the hell hole of Louisville, Kentucky. Going home seemed so comforting at the time. So welcoming. But she knew there was nothing left to go home to. No family. No friends. No Mike.

A tear fell down her face as she thought of her husband. Of her brother. Her parents. Her friends. They were all gone. And she was the only one left of them. And she felt it wasn't right. She felt she shouldn't be here.

After she finished her meal, she placed her silverware and empty can in her back pack. She then put on her black leather jacket and grabbed her pack. She then climbed up the stairs and found a trap door in the ceiling leading to the attic. She pulled out her revolver and yanked down the door and stood back to let the wooden steps slide down to the floor. Waiting to hear the familiar sounds of ravenous walkers, she kept aim in the darkness of the attic and heard nothing. She climbed up the steps, looking around the small space, finding only boxes and junk. She did see a small window facing the front of the house. She pulled up the door and crawled to the window to look out. She saw a few walkers lumber across the yard. But no one living. No one had seen her enter this house alone. She remembered what her father had warned her about; that in this world now, she was a target, easy prey because of her gender. She kept that in mind every time she was out there alone in the wastelands of this once proud country.

She propped up her backpack against the corner of the attic and rested her head on it, keeping her rifle between her and the wall, and thumbing the small knife in her jacket sleeve. She looked up at the wooden planks above her and closed her eyes, hoping to sleep.

And all she could see in front of her was the Windy City in flames as helicopters flew above it, burning Chicago all over again. Chicago had burned before over a century ago. And it was rebuilt with skyscrapers so tall they could be seen from thirty miles away on top of a Ferris Wheel in Arlington Heights.

And now it will never be rebuilt. It is now just crumbling ruins of its former self.

The woman was unsure if even trying was worth it. This nomadic life was draining her, going from place to place every day, trying to stay alive. It was more routine now than living. But she made a promise to her brother. She promised him she would try.

One of us has to make it.

David. Her brother who sacrificed himself for her. Giving up now would tarnish his memory. Despite how hopeless she felt, his last words to her gave her the push she needed.

You have to live, Dani!

In the darkness, Danielle Evans finally fell asleep and dreamed of better times. Before the dead came back to life and feasted upon the living. Before the madness of humanity set in and destroyed whatever human compassion remained. Before she was forced to finally start living in a world ruled by the dead.

And it started with a rumor on the internet.