Here, just something I thought of while flipping though my… adult… pictures in my computer, a few of which involved Zoey. I might even add an… adult… scene later if you want. It would touch a subject that… well… let's just say some wouldn't like that part of my story. I'll add it on request later.
And no I don't live in any of the locations mentioned, and the boy is not based off of me. I live in the North-West part of the United States, and I have a lighter shade of brown for my hair. I'm also much older.
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The survivors couldn't believe their luck. A Semi-Truck! When Francis decided to attempt to rev up one last vehicle, after all the others didn't do anything, they finally hit the jackpot. Now they were one step closer to getting to safety… if there was any left. None the less, there's got to be a safer place than Philadelphia. What's even more lucky, is that this semi was going to fill a store with apple juice, Havarti cheese and 'Chicken in a Biscuit', a sort of cracker that had a flavor like chicken broth.
Going directly north, they were surprised at how far the semi went. Francis, who was given the honor of driving the semi, didn't dare stop at a gas station, even the functional ones. They had reached 200 miles when the gas meter read 'empty'. "You know… I read once that some cars go nearly 100 miles after their tank reads empty. I'm sure it's the same for trucks…" Zoeysaid nervously. "… I hope."
Luckily she was right. They were in the middle of a city called 'Fort Wayne' near a small church when the semi slowed to a stop. First thing they noticed was a large pile of infected bodies lying near the broken down church door, the bullet holes riddling the walls, and several fresh graves off to the side.
"Wow, looks like someone cleared the area out for us." Bill said with a sigh. He really didn't want to be driven smack dab into a hoard. "Let's go in and see if there's anyone still alive."
Getting out of the truck, the four slowly crept though the door of the church. "Hold on, guys, I think I hear a witch." Louis said as he stretched an arm out, blocking the others from moving forward. There was a moment of silence between the 4 as they listened to the sound of crying coming from deeper in the church. "… I don't think that's a witch." Zoey spoke up. "It sounds like a boy. There are no boy witches." Francis pulled both his pistols out of his jacket. "I dunno, but after all the shit we've been though, I'm starting to think anything is possible. I'm going in, and if it even looks at me funny, I'm firing." Zoey grabbed Francis, pulling him back. "No, I'll go first. I don't want you doing anything rash." "Fine, but if you die, don't blame it on me. "
Zoey lead them into the church. The pews were stacked like barriers, and a few were being used as tables to hold ammo and food. There were bodies lying everywhere, both infected and non-infected. With the non-infected there were weapons lying besides them. Many were moved to the corner and covered with black cloth. "Seems like there was quite a last stand in here. I don't see any survivors, though…" Bill said picking up a fancy pistol gripped in the hand of a deceased survivor. Francis sat down on one of the pews and slouched down. "I hate churches."Zoey stopped, and then turned around. "Guys, I want you to wait here. I hear the crying coming from the bathroom." Bill joined Francis and opened up his juice filled canteen. "Fine… butZoey, please don't get yourself killed."
Zoey opened the door to the men's restroom slowly, and peaked her head in. She heard the sound of a young boy crying coming from one of the stalls. "No... please, bring them back... I don't want to be alone... bring them back..." Zoey was sure now that it was human, so she called out gently, "Hello? Are you hurt? Do you need he-" her words were interrupted when the boy made a loud scream. Zoey was startled and flinched, and a panicked scuffling was heard from the farthest stall. Zoey waited a second, then walked forward and opened the stall.
The boy was about 12 or 13, was short, she assumed about 5'3', had dark brown hair and deep green eyes. His shirt was ripped off, reviling his scrawny, starved body. His face was soaked with tears, like he had been crying for days. His eyes were blood shot and his hair messed up. He was sitting on a toilet in the fetal position, muttering to himself. "Come here, it's alright... I'm not here to hurt you..." the child drew back and whimpered. Zoey was hurt that such a child had to be in such a situation, and wanted desperately to gain his trust. "It's going to be alright now," Zoey said as she neeled down to his height. "I'm here now..." She leaned forward , grabbed his head, and did something that was truly human... she kissed his forehead. After that, the boy slowed his wimpering down. Zoey picked the boy up, sat down on the seat, and set him down on her lap. The boy buried his face into her chest and sobbed.
"I'm here for you now... everything is going to be alright.