I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw her; bluish green eyes, slightly wavy, light brunette hair, a sharp jaw line, her delicate touch turned hard. I knew she used to be the soft, confident kind, when the world was actually living, but now, she had been changed. She was the quiet yet strong type that was smart about every move. She was kind of like me in a way.

I give a smirk, while admiring the girl from my rooftop. I can't find myself setting down my binoculars because it's impossible to let go of such a sight. At the moment, she's bashing in some zed's head with a bloodied-up baseball bat, then quickly switches over to a switchblade that she pulls from her jean's pocket. She jams the blade into the second zed's eyeball socket, pulling it out seconds later to force it through another undead's skull.

I continue chewing my last piece of gum, savoring the fresh mintiness that will soon melt away after a few minutes of munching. Another small grin stretches across my face when I see the girl save someone from her group. He's a fine, young man, if I do say so myself. His skin is quite tan, and his black locks stick to his face by all the sweat.

"Princess has a boyfriend?" I giggle to myself. "Not for long, though..."

Princess (I like that nickname, it suites her) is still kicking at and stabbing the zeds that come at her. The group is probably about half way done slaughtering the small hoard they managed to bump into on their search for supplies. Of course by now, they are almost out of breath, gasping for any air they can intake before their next swing. I see Princess's mother pulling out her pistol, and by then, I decide it's time to possibly call the show over.

"Well, that was worth watching. Time to pull out the big guns." I pull out my sniper rifle and screw on the new suppressor I had found two days ago in some rich person's mansion. "Time to give this babe a little test."

I line up my shot at the zed stumbling after my girl, it's left arm broken off and hanging like a piece of spaghetti. My sights are soon directly on the target of the creature's head, and I slowly position my finger over the trigger, taking in a deep breath. I hold it and gently squeeze the rifle's trigger. Pew. I let the air flow out of my lungs as I watch the small figure of the zed in the distance fall, finally lifeless.

Chuckling at her confusion, I watch Princess swing around with confusion written all over her face, glancing in all directions trying to find out what had just happened. She soon gives up and continues stabbing at the undead, while I lean back in my lawn chair, kicking my feet up and enjoying the show progress.

The group finally puts down the the last two remaining zeds. I start packing my things, readying myself to follow them off to wherever they're headed.

It's been about two weeks of tracking and watching from afar. I first found out about the group when I saw their expensive yacht floating off the coast. Over the past week, the group had to abandon their safety boat and went to seek refuge on land. They must've run out of supplies or something. Figures, means that it's impossible to maintain a set system on a small boat. You can't grow food, and you can't have unlimited water. Once you run out of one or the other, you're done.

So, I've been stalking this group for about two weeks, and I clearly remember the first time I really had a good look at Princess. She was a few houses down, and I was in a house's second floor window, peeking through it with my binoculars. Let me tell you, mate, that girl is bloody fine. She's thin and somewhat toned in the arms and legs. Her cheek bones prominently show through her skin, probably from the fact she only eats about two or less meals a day. You can't get good, full meals in the apocalypse, though, so I don't blame her for being a little underweight.

I guessed she was about my height, which means no one has to lean up or down for a kiss (no extra effort, yay!). Princess constantly wears that black and white jacket covering some simple, graphic t-shirt. That flannel is always wrapped around her hips and drapes right over her ass, which constantly annoys me for obvious reasons. Lastly, we have those black jeans that tightly hug her nice, slender, strong legs and disappear into her tan, laced boots. She's an absolutely stunning human being!

Anyways, enough of Princess. Let's talk about her group. I figured the blonde woman was he mother, means that her and Princess look somewhat alike and stay close. There's a shaggy-haired kid, probably slightly older than Princess by a few years, who constantly wears grandpa clothes; I assume he's her brother. Then, there's the two tan skinned men (one young, one middle-aged). The young one hangs a lot around Princess and the other girl (I'll get to her in a second), and it makes me suspicious of their relationship—they seem awfully close. The older tan man is definitely the younger one's father because their physical features are very, very similar. He also has a seemingly close relationship with Princess's mother, which has me questioning the relationship between Princess and Prince Charming (fits pretty well).

Now, onto the last three remaining group members! There's an older Salvadorian man and his daughter, who looks to be in her mid-twenties. They seem somewhat distant from all the others in the group, so I assume they were strangers before the outbreak happened. Lastly, we have the African-American man. He's probably the most dominant in the group, and he's always got some fancy suite on. I'm guessing he's the one who owned the yacht. This man catches my eye because he's very mysterious. There always seems to be a glint in his shady eyes, and he seems to be the manipulative type, or at least could be. He's worth keeping an eye on.

Moving back to reality, I see the group on the move. They're tiredly jogging across the parking lot, away from the large Walmart. A rule of the undead world: don't attempt to raid a large store because you will be guaranteed to run into a hoard of zeds. Luckily, though, the group only had to fight off a small hoard, about a dozen or so. Those bloody things are strong in groups, so the larger the group, the more chance you will of being turned into a buffet.

The group is so out of breath, yet they continue trudging away from the store. I start to pack my things, leaving my rooftop view. I pull my rifle over my shoulder and pack away my binoculars. My gum has gone stale, so I spit it off the roof. Shame to see my last peace go. It was good while it lasted.

I take a nice jog down the four flights of stairs to the ground level. The stench of the rotting zeds I'd taken out earlier today had amazingly gotten worse. The smell had built up in the room and had lingered ever since. This caused me to gag and almost puke up those canned beans I'd had for brunch.

As I steadied myself just enough to make it out of the front door, escaping the horrid reek, I reassured myself: "You're okay, Elyza. Just keep it—" I gag, again. "Holy shit! That's bloody horrible."

The world has been under invasion by the undead for about two whole months now, and I still haven't gotten used to the horrible stench of rotting bodies—I don't think I ever will. The sights bad enough as it is: rotting insides pouring out of corpses and blackish brown blood smothered over everything. I've luckily gotten over the look of the zeds, although, it wasn't easy. The first couple of weeks consisted of my hacking and puking every other time I had to take out a zed. Now, I'm able to easily approach them and kill them for good, without having to struggle keeping down my food. The smell still gets to me, though.

Eventually, I get over my stomach and continue down the street towards the direction the group was headed. I make my way around some small shops, having to kill off a few undead here and there, but not many. I find myself a nice bottle of whisky and an Arizona tea for the road. I also find myself raiding the candy isle of a liquor store, grabbing what chocolate bars are left. There's one last bag of beef jerky laying on the floor, so dinner is served for later. I stuff everything in my pack, then leave the store.

A few shops over, I find myself walking into a drug store. A few zeds are lurking in the isles, and I knock over a stand to get their attention. As always, they come stumbling over each other from the isles. There's four of them: three men and one woman. I take a breathe before pulling out my combat knife and plunging it into the first zed's skull. Quickly, I rip out my knife and jam it into the second's eye. I kick the lifeless body off my blade, hoping to not have any blood spurt onto my nice, new leather jacket.

The other two zed's are taken out with ease, just like the two before them. I take a quick glimpse of my jacket, looking for any blood stains. "Mother fucker! You just had to ruin it, didn't ya, mate?" I stare down at the last corpse, grinding my teeth at him. Nodding, I give his head a light kick with my boot, then leave for the pharmacy counter in the back.

"Let's see what we've got here..." I lick my lips, hoping to find some sort of antibiotics behind the counter. Most of the cabinets are empty, having been raided by people who probably tried escaping before things got bad. Most likely, they probably didn't make it long.

"Ace!" I say in celebration. There's a full bottle of light antibiotics. It's always good to stock up on this stuff, just in case someone needs it. Who knows, maybe Princess could get a bad gash and use a few pills.

On my way out, I grab a pack of pain killers and some bandage wraps that had been neglected on the floor. Just as I'm about to leave, I check the front for some chewies, yet I'm disappointed with only a bag of cheap, stale American candy.

It's about 16:00 or 17:00, and the afternoon is quite pleasant. There's a nice, calm breeze that brushes away any heatwaves, and the sun isn't blasting too much heat, just some subtle warmth. It reminds me of home—the light breezes that would be washing by every few minutes and the heat of the sun in the barren sky, warming the world around you. I vividly remember the hot summers I spent in the warm sea on the coast of Australia. Here, the ocean is cold and polluted. It's overall unpleasant, in my opinion. I'm bias, though, because Australia was my home, until I left off on vacation three months ago. Then, the world went to shit.

I'm about five blocks down from the parking lot where the group was, when I hear a gunshot. It sounds like Princess's mother's pistol, so I take off down the streets towards the group's location.

I find a tall enough building to hopefully overlook the others around and quickly make my way to the roof. I search the area, hoping to find the group somewhere in a decent condition. There are some birds scattering to my right, and I immediately focus on the area. It's a narrow ally way with a shit ton of zeds crawling towards the street. Across the road I find my girl frantically searching for a way around them. I whip out my binoculars and look for her expression. Panic is in her bright eyes, and she grips her knife tightly with white knuckles. I'm about two streets away from her and could probably catch her in a few minutes, if I really ran for it. She's in dead trouble, separated from the group. "Time to save my Princess, I guess. Off we go!"

I immediately hop down the stairs and rush out into the streets. Princess was last near the ally way off to the right, so I gun it towards that area. A few undead catch onto me as I dash down the blocks, but they're way too slow to try and take a bite of this.

I find Princess in no time, cornered outside a small shop. Her clothes are covered in stains, and she's gleaming with sweat. Fear is written all over her face, as the dead close in on her, ready to devour their next meal. "Not on my watch, ya wankers," I murmur to myself before readying the scene I'm about to make. "She's mine to eat out, tonight," I let out a slight chuckle at my last comment.

I whip my flare gun out and load in my one and only flare. Once loaded up, I stand on the nearest car and fire the flare straight in the air. I follow up by banging the butt of my pump-action shotgun into the car's windshield. The glass breaks and creates a loud clashing sound that catches the attention of most of the zeds. They turn from Princess and stumble towards me.

"Dumbasses," I comment before pumping my gun. I take the first shot, and the brains of the closest corpse goes scattering in the air. I chuckle at the sight and continue blowing the heads off of the zeds as they start to pile around the car. I hop off and walk backwards a bit down the street, continuing to put the undead to rest.

My pump-action soon runs out of rounds, so I resort to my trusty pistol. I cock the first bullet into the chamber and let all hell loose on the fuckers. I drop about five within a few seconds. I check over the bobbing heads of the zeds to see the status of Princess. She seems to be handling it pretty well, but I spot a zed approaching her ass.

"Not, today! That's my tush, ya fucker!"

I quickly crawl onto the nearest car, then aim down the sites of my pistol. I pull the trigger, and the corpse behind the girl falls dead. We lock eyes for a second, probably an acknowledgement and thanks. I immediately go back to putting the zeds around me to rest.

My clip runs dry within a couple of shots, and I replace it with another. More undead stumble out of the ally way. I find that we have no choice but to run because they just keep coming, the fuckwits.

At the top of my lungs I yell to Princess, "Get over here! We need to go!"

She doesn't argue or even say a word and simply starts making her way to me. She evades all the zeds reaching for her. One manages to catch her jacket, and she rips it off, leaving the lucky corpse with a souvenir. With only the trouble of the grabber, she's finally by my side. I give her a charming smirk, before I offer her a hand. She takes it, and we both dash down the street.

"This way, Princess!" I exclaim, as we race down the street. "We're going to my place for the night," I explain, continuing to lead her around the blocks.

She's a quiet one, keeping close to me as we jog along. She hasn't said a word at all, and I can't help but wonder what her voice sounds like. Is it sweet and soft or sexy and raspy? She's probably just too tired to talk. She'll probably speak when we get back to my place—it's not that far from here.

Anyways, I sure can't wait to meet her. I've spent the last two weeks following her group, admiring her from a distance. Today's the day I've been waiting for—a day to sweep her off her feet and rescue her. I'm such a sap, I know.