Resurrection
They were behind us, relentlessly following us. I think our fear attracted them, others wouldn't agree; saying that it was our heat, our heartbeat, or our aura. Either way, they were attracted to us and either way we still ran from them. Their moans grew louder as more joined them. They were an endless army, an army that would continue to grow as long as we still continued to exist. So we ran faster, not looking where we were going. We were running so fast that we took an accidental descent that landed us at the edge of a broken city. The towers here have crumbled and the bridges have collapsed and like all the others it still held beauty. It reminded us of a time when there were still cities, of a time when we didn't have to hide in fear of them. Times have changed since. Now, the grass no longer grows and the pavement has turned to the dust in which travelers' footprints lay embedded, waiting for the next wind to erase their existence. It is in this broken city that we knew we would be able to find our niche. We felt safe here though we knew these places were the most dangerous to reside. So here in this city we slept.
Tossing and turning; everyone tried to run from the terrors that their dreams held. The terrors of locked away memories, of people they once knew and lives they once lived. Dreams seemed to hold what was being repressed during conscious times; fear, anger, despair, and most of all sadness. Mine, they held the screams from my family. Every night I relived their last agonizing screams and the looks upon their faces when they realized I would not help them. This time the screams were louder and there were more.
When we awoke we realized that this was not our haven. This broken warren was like all the others, filled with those things with the insatiable appetites. We first realized our mistake in trusting this place after we had already lost two members of our group. It was their screams that I heard in addition to the ones I dreamt. It was their screams that woke us. Five of us remained after the attack. We didn't realize that there were so many of those damned things. The city didn't have the unpleasant smell that accompanied them, they weren't wandering about. We thought they had found prey and followed. We were wrong. It was the drone like humming that all their combined moans made that insinuated that there was many more coming. So, again we grabbed what we could and we ran. We ran, for what seemed like forever, along the dusty path hoping the wind was on our side and that it would cover our prints and blow the scent of our fear away. I remember the road curved and at that curve we decided that we could stop running and finally walk. Also at the curve we could see a body of water, a lake to be exact.
Our hearts leapt with joy as we headed towards the water with aspirations of cleaning our clothes and having cool, fresh, water to pour over our heads. The sun was high and gave us no sympathy; there was none in this new world. There was only survival. When we arrived at the lake our hearts fell into our stomachs and our jaws dropped to the floor. There was no body of water. There was no lake. Yes, at one point this had been a lake, but now it was nothing more than an open grave. It was apparent that the lake had been a dumping site from when the end of human kind began. Hundreds of rotting bodies now lay strewn in this old lake. The lake was no longer filled with water, just bodies that had been turning slightly blue-ish green from decomposition. Ghosts from a happier time now haunted the lake. A single rope hung from a branch of a dead tree slightly swaying back and forth, asking… no, begging to be used one last time. We could hear the sound of splashing and laughter. We could almost see dogs chasing balls and people swimming in the lake… almost. Memories seemed to linger there with the ghosts. So, our journey continued, our niche still unfound and our lives still in peril.
The sun left and the moon came for the 6th time since we left the city, having mercy upon us with its shade. We no longer counted minutes and hours, we lost all instruments to do so. Instead we counted sunrises and sunsets. I say we, but what I really mean is that I counted sunrises and sunsets. No one else really seemed to care, but doing this one small thing allowed me to keep my sanity. Everyone else that I traveled with only cared to stay alive. Yet, that care was wearing thin on some within our group. What's the point of living when there is nothing to live for? Everything has been destroyed. Only small patches of survivors still existed. Everyone else had died. They died, they rose up, and then they ate. It is from them, the resurrected, that we run.
Ahead a thick of trees gave our minds some comfort, knowing we could hide among them; hunt for clean animals during the day and sleep peacefully at night. It was still night when we heard their moans. These moans were different, they were new. The moans sounded like the vocals of someone that had only been dead for a short amount of time. This to us meant that there was more of their kind in this forest, where we sought refuge. Silently, we packed. Quietly, we moved. We were still searching for our niche. Although we lived in the forest for 15 so called days, we never ran into other survivors. Yet, the still moist moans gave clue that some had lived in the forest with us. Maybe if we had looked harder we might have found them. We might have been able to save each other. Form a larger group and keep each other more protected from the resurrected. The moist moans were silenced and we stopped moving; we waited for the sun to better light our way, laying down our bags and sitting in silence, our ears searching for the slightest sounds.
Restless now, I had to move. We had sat in silence and heard nothing. So still in the cover of the dark I tried to quietly leave the group. It was not smart of me, I know. The moment I left that group though was the moment that changed my history. Clinging to the trees I walked in the dark. Then I heard the singing, beautiful voices floated in the air. The song was rhythmic, calming, and luring. So, towards it I moved. Curious to know what it was for and who it was coming from. Then I saw them, sitting peacefully in a circle as if the world had never changed. You could feel the calming aura that they gave and could almost feel a sense of normalcy in them. That being things such as friends going on a camping trip, singing ol' campfire songs and telling ghost stories. Cautiously, I approached them, hands raised and speaking full clear words. They looked at me with curiosity. Finally, one woman, the person I would have assumed to be in charge walked over to me. She had the most enchanting eyes I had ever seen. Offering her hand in peace I grabbed it and followed her. She took me to their camp, proclaiming "A single person can do us no damage." They had no idea what a single person could do. Blindly I followed her. When we arrived the people greeted me with warm clothes and fresh water. Oh the water was wonderful. Something I had not tasted in such a long time.
Now, around a much smaller fire we congregated. Here, I learned that these people have not left the woods since the first hints of the human apocalypse. They asked questions of what the world now looked liked and how many of those things there were. I answered truthfully and saw every single one of their hearts break as it dawned upon them that humanity would cease to exist much sooner than expected.
It was my turn now, my turn to ask the questions. I asked what they were doing out in the woods so open like that. I asked why exactly they came out to the woods. There was no fallacy in their replies, not from what I could tell. The woman who had been the first to welcome me told me that they were a group of people who had been prepared for the apocalypse. They didn't consider themselves a cult, just prepared for the ending of the world. Saying "Humanity was bringing destruction upon itself, we could see that, hence, our decision to make a home in the woods. When news of this catastrophe reached the media we knew it was our time to leave the rest of the world and seclude ourselves. So far we have only had to deal with the loss of one person and their death was natural. As you can see we have flourished. The earth provides us with fresh food and we worship it for that". Finally, the woman told me that the woods were safe. "In the assumed years that they had been here they had not encountered resurrected beings and it was easy enough to tell the clean animals from the infected ones."
After our long conversations and some fresh food I told the people here about my group and how we heard fresh moans. They didn't seem worried and said that we may rest comfortably here until we were ready to leave if we wanted to leave at all. Four men volunteered to come with me to grab the rest of my old group.
When we reached my other group we found nothing but backpacks, the people that the bags had belonged to were gone. There was no blood, we had heard no screams. Could they have just disappeared? Frightened and confused we grabbed the bags and ran. We ran back to other group and told them what we had discovered. The feeling of worry was strong. It could be sensed on almost every person. A meeting was held and as a small group of leaders, I guess we could be called; we discussed what we should do. It was decided that even though the forest had been their sanctuary for quite some time it was no longer safe and we would have to move. Of course there was uproar when this announced to the rest. A long debate took place and finally everyone agreed on a solution. People that wanted to stay would. Overall, there were 15 people myself included, that wanted to leave the forest. So we left. The forest was larger than I had expected, it took us a long while to find our way out.
It was beginning to get cold, winter was setting upon us. On the cusp of freezing to death we found salvation; a small town. Similar to those towns found in the old westerns. It had saloon with wooden swinging doors, a jail house, a market, and for our convenience a single floor motel. It was a small enough place that we preformed a sweep of the entire place and only found 3 fully dead bodies. The town was clean enough. Deciding to sleep in pairs we each coupled off and claimed rooms. It felt nice to sleep on beds. The water wasn't running and there was no electricity, but that was okay, we had beds. Nice, soft beds to rest our heads on.
Here in this small town, we spent our winter. Living off the supplies in the convenience stores and the food and water we took from camp. Once in awhile we were lucky enough to find and catch a coyote or elk. Since burning fires were to risky, fires always attracted them, we would make sun dried jerky. It was still food though and we were grateful to eat it. One can only live off spam for so long. It was slightly odd that during our duration in this town we only encountered 4 resurrected. We could smell them way before we could hear or see them. That was primarily how we were able to kill them quickly.
After the snow had melted we choose to continue on our way. There was a dust covered cobble stone path leading from the town to a large area enclosed in a tall rust covered gate. Inside this gate a graveyard claimed its home. Hundreds of people were buried here. We could hear them stirring in their coffins, clawing at the lids, yearning to be released from their dark homes. This place was evil and we could sense that. So, we left almost as soon as we arrived. The trees we beginning to look alive again with beautiful green leaves starting to emerge. The land we treaded was lush. We savored this moment, because we knew it would not last. It had been a couple of sun rises since we left the small town, when we came across a bright red back pack. This normally would have meant nothing to me, but I recognized it. It had belonged to one of the people I had traveled with before.
The back pack was full; it had clothes and some small portions of food. Overjoyed by the thought I might be reconnected with a friend I yelled her name as loud as possible. I yelled and walked around the area I found the back pack but never heard a response. I decided to just pick it up and walk with it incase I found her. Being so profoundly happy that my old friends might be close, I ran ahead of the group. I wanted to try to catch up. Then I smelled them. The dead were here. The dead were my friends and they were hoarded together. I knew I should have yelled or ran back to others. I knew I should have warned them, but I didn't. Hastily, I climbed up tree and waited. The zombies moved below me. A few noticed me but were too enticed by the larger group to linger. Several minutes later, I heard screaming and gun shots. Then silence, which could only be taken as a bad sign. I called out, but received no reply. I climbed down the tree and cautiously made my way in the direction of the zombies. Sure enough the zombies had won the war. Leaving the larger group, once again, had saved my life. I quickly turned and ran. I ran as fast as I could. I needed to put distance between me and the ever hungry undead.
As I ran I thought back to my family and how I had basically offered them to the undead so that I could live. I remembered their horrified faces, not for the zombies, but for me locking them in the house with the zombies. I remembered leaving the group because I got bored. That saved my life. I held no regrets doing that. Then this, I could have warned them. They, no we, could have been prepared and fought them, possibly with only a few causalities. Alas, I choose my guaranteed safety instead. I let them die, at least this time they didn't know it. Remorse shot through my veins briefly, but it was replaced with relief because I was still alive. Still, I knew I had to keep running. I had to live. When I could run no more, I laid down. With no one to keep watch I expected death to find me. I almost welcomed it. Much to my surprise it was a warm hand that woke me from my slumber. A new group of people, a small group, but a new group nonetheless. The hand belonged to a man, who said I could join his group. I accepted without hesitation.
Walking with another group I began to think. The more I thought the more questions that arose. Would I stay with them? Would I warn them next time I encounter the resurrected? There would be a next time, there always is. Would I finally feel bad about it or had I lost my conscience completely? No, I mostly likely wouldn't stay with them. I would only warn them or help them fight if I was guaranteed to live. Finally, no… no, I would not feel bad if I let them die so I could live. I felt bad for leaving my own flesh and blood, but I have gotten over that. I am determined to survive this apocalypse and will use any sources to do so. That includes other human lives. At that point I decided I am more dangerous than any zombie hoard. It's just unfortunate for the company I keep that they can't see it.