The birds chirped in the trees around us as we ran blindly through the woods, pushing the brush out of way as we went. The groaning got farther and farther away, until we stopped, panting as we tried to catch our breath.
Here, let me explain. My name is Brooke Evers. My two traveling companions are Brady Evers, my twin brother, and a man named Marcus Waters. We were the only people left out of our previous group that consisted of my brother and me, our dad, a man my father worked with, Marcus and his girlfriend, and another couple with their five year-old son. All of them perished one way or another, except us. We'd been holed up in a small cabin near the woods when a hoard of walkers began pounding on our door. Luckily, we managed to escape by opening a window on the side of the house and climbing out, but we barely got out alive. Apparently, getting three people out a window is neither a quick nor quiet process. Alright, now you're caught up on the current situation; let's get back to the story, shall we?
We were not in this greatest of positions at that point. Neither Brady nor I had remembered to get our backpacks in the haste to get out, so besides our weapons, all we had were enough food to last us about a day and a half, if we were lucky, and a couple rounds for Marcus's M16. It would be at least a couple of days until it would be safe enough to circle back to our cabin for our supplies, so until further notice, we were low on food, ammo, and had no place to sleep for the night. Our little ragtag gang was in another one of our infamous bad situations, which almost always led to at least one of us dying.
But for once, our luck was about to change for the better.
