Original story by naruko88558855
'Well that was more boring than usual.' I thought as I started walking from the bus stop to my house, which just so happened to be five blocks away. When I arrived at my long dirt driveway I sighed. My foster parents lived in a house at the end of a dead end road. After two minutes of walking I met a rust covered old fence gate, and I opened it and allowed myself in. I shut the gate back up and then turn back to my house, walking past my chickens who were now looking up at me, expecting food.
I walk into the house and I'm immediately bombarded with my foster parents yelling at me, telling me that since I'd gotten in trouble at school today (which I actually hadn't) I wasn't getting supper tonight. Shrugging, I sat my backpack down and went back outside to feed my animals. I went to the chicken coop and, after putting the chicken into the coop, I fed them and went to feed my dogs. I went up to the large metal trash can and took of the lid, revealing it to be full of dog food with a measuring cup sitting at the top. I grabbed the three dog bowls and filled them up before setting them on the porch. I then emptied the water bowls and refilled them with the hose as well before setting them next to the dog food. I used the whistle round my neck to let the dogs know food was out before going back inside to get washed off.
When I went back into the house my foster parents reminded me that I couldn't have supper with them, so I just went into the bathroom to shower. After washing my hair and washing off I got out of the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around myself before I walked to my bedroom. When I entered the room I put on my black yoga pants and my black lace lined tank-top, grabbed a bag of salsa chips and an unopened jar of salsa and put it onto my bed, grabbing my tablet as well before I plopped onto my bed, sending the salsa jar flying onto the floor. Thankful the glass didn't break, and I picked it back up and started eating my chips and salsa as I watched some Wizards of Waverly Place on Netflix, the only fun thing I had on my tablet besides music.
Thankfully it was Friday today, so I didn't have to worry about falling asleep in class because, by the time I stopped watching my show, it was 3:47 A.M. Sighing, I plugged my IPad into the charger and threw away the now empty bag of chips and jar of salsa before exiting my room, my aim to go into the bathroom and brush my teeth. After doing so I went to my bedroom and fell asleep, extremely tired.
A Few Hours Later
When I woke up at around 11:23 A.M. I heard someone banging on my chicken coops fence. Growling, I quickly grabbed my fully equipped with a silencer and flashlight riffle and stalked downstairs to the front porch. You might ask why I had such a riffle, but the answer is simple... I took it from my foster father. He had a bunch of hunting guns so it's not like he cares about one being missing, and since he didn't talk or rant about it being missing, no harm done right.
It turned out to be my foster mother banging and yanking on the fence, and I rolled my eyes at her backside. "HEY! WOMAN! GET AWAY FROM MY CHICKENS!" When she turned I saw that she was different. Let us see the problem. Milky white eyes, quickly decaying skin and... Did she just growl at me? As she started stumbling towards me I figured out that she, my foster mother, had turned into a zombie! I quickly shot her in the head. I walked over to the fallen body, and the bloody bite on the corpses neck confirmed what I'd suspected. I heard a groan behind me and turned to see my foster father standing there, his arm had a bite and he looked extremely pale and weak.
"C-Carmen. Help m-me." And I did just that. I shot him in the head to save him from the fate of turning. He was already pale, and the bite looked like it had been there for to long, so i knew there was nothing else I could do. When he dropped I turned and saw my neighbors house, a nice man lived there by the name of Jon, and he, along with his deceased wife who'd died a few years ago, had been the ones to truly raise me, so I immediately hopped over the hole filled fence and dashed to their place, my riffle in hand.
When I came up to the front door it was slightly ajar, so I opened it all the way and poked through with my riffle first. I made my way through the house and didn't find anyone, the last place I searched was the kitchen. On the fridge door was a Post-It note sticking to the handle, and I peeled it off before reading its message.
'Dear Carmen,
I'm an old man, and you are a sweet girl, but my heart problems could put you in trouble one day, so I'm leaving to try and find a safe place where I won't hurt you if I die in the middle of the night, at least now you can hope that I will stay alive through this. I am going to try and find the rest of my family, if they are even alive, and I wish you the best of luck. Trust your gut, be cautious and don't let your guard down, those are my words of wisdom to you. I left you some food in the cupboards, and outside in my shed I left car parts, just so you know where to find things. Take whatever you need from here, and I didn't take much, just my gun and a little more than what I left for you food and water wise.
Survive Carmen, that is this old mans wish.
Signed,
Jon'
Of course I was sad when I finished the note, but I put it in my pocket as to have something to remember him by and leaned against the counter to reminisce. Jon was a man in his late 50'2 with heart problems, and his wife Bonny died two years ago of a heart attack. Before that happened Jon would take me outside and we'd sit in front of his shed that he'd made by hand, sitting on plastic white chairs while we sipped homemade lemonade that Bonny made us.
I never did get along with those under 21, they seemed so... Stupid. Irresponsible is a better word to describe them, but that doesn't really matter now. The couple was always nice to me though, Bonny being the one to teach me how to sew, knit and crochet while Jon taught me how to fix cars, motorcycles and the like. I went into the living room and sat my riffle onto the couch before sitting down myself, putting my head in my hands. This was a truly stressful day, not even math made me this stressed, and I haven't even eaten any food yet.
Sighing, I stood up and went outside to the shed, opening the door to look for the little red wagon that had belonged to Jon's kids when they were little, and I pulled it out and up to the house, bringing it inside to the kitchen so I could put the food inside. As I went through the cub boards I took out all the food I found. I found bread, peanut butter, jam, jelly, and a lot of canned food. I put everything I found into the little red wagon, except for the 4 big blue jugs of water, and then took it to my house, putting the wagon and its contents in the kitchen of my house before walking back over to Jon's with my now empty school bag, its previous contents spilled on the living room floor.
When I got back to Jon's house I moved the water jugs to the front door, which I had shut when I entered the home, and started searching the bed rooms and the two bathrooms after doing so. I found three new tooth brushes, five tubes of toothpaste, two bottles of mouthwash, four little containers of dental floss and then found the first aid kit. Everything I found in the house I deemed even slightly useful for the future went into my backpack or near the door if it wasn't small enough, and by the time I was finished there were a few zombies outside the front door from the noise I'd made.
Knowing that my riffle wasn't good for close range I sat the long gun against a jug of water and went into the kitchen to grab knives. I grabbed a long semi-thick knife in my right hand while the butcher knife went in my left, and I took off my backpack before opening the door, two walkers stumbling in. I jumped and stabbed the first in the head with my butcher knife before yanking it out, and I quickly moved to the right so that it wouldn't land on me. The next one stretched out its arms and I swept its legs from underneath it and, when it hit the ground, I lunged on top of it and stabbed it in the forehead. Yanking the blade back out I put the knives beside my gun and started moving everything I'd gotten over to my house.
When I finished hauling the things that I'd sat in the doorway to my house I grabbed the backpack I'd left on the floor and threw a strap over my shoulder before going to search the fridge and freezer. There was milk, orange juice, eggs, some butter and a few other things, so I took the silverware drawer from its place just below the counter top and emptied it, putting everything I wanted from the fridge I wanted into it before I checked the freezer. Inside the freezer were two square pizzas, two bags of pizza rolls, some frozen drinks in a can as well as some popsicles.
What really caught my eye was the tub of Reece's ice cream. Licking my lips, I quickly grabbed it and a spoon and sat on the countertop, resting my elbow on my knee as I ate. There were more walkers coming in to the back yard from the woods out back by the time I'd finished my ice cream, thus interrupting my peace and quiet. Sighing again, I threw the ice cream tube in the trash and grabbed the drawer full of things to be frozen or put in the fridge and took it to the front door, which is where I stopped and looked around the house once more before grabbing the knives and my riffle. I put the rifle under my arm and the knives went into the waistline of my yoga pants.
I then went back home silently, hoping not to draw the walkers. When I opened my front gate up to walk in I heard some of my chickens making noise, and I realized that I couldn't keep them outside or alive without drawing walkers to my house. Thinking over the problem as I went into the house, I decided that the basement was the best option. I went downstairs and started clearing things out, moving things to the side till I had a corner of the basement cleared, leaving behind a large bare space empty for use. I quickly made a make-shift fence around the area tall enough for the chickens not to get out and then started the slow process of taking my chickens and their nests into the basement one by one.
When I finished I went back over to Jon's house to look through his shed. I opened its door and walked over to a large object covered in a tarp with a Post-It note on it, and I quickly peeled off the note and read it.
'Dear Carmen,
I know how much you love this motorcycle, and I have this gut feeling that you'll be able to use this bike better than I will, so now you'll have something even bigger to remember me by. Use it well.
Signed,
Jon'
As I remembered the hours we spent working on this bike together I smiled, looking it over. It was one of the two old motorcycles Jon owned, it was a 1969 Harley Davidson Easy Rider. Beauty in it's own right, it had glistening silver metalwork with black as the secondary color. The other bike was a 1969 Harley Davidson Electra Glide, same coloring, but both beauties in their own rights. Smiling for what felt like the first time that day I sat down on the bike I'd only been allowed to ride a few times, the easy rider was awkward at first with its high handle bars, and I'd been even shorter when I'd been allowed to first ride it, but it was still a great bike. I moved to the other bike, and it had a Post-It note on its seat reading:
'Dear Carmen,
This is my baby. I don't want it beaten up too bad, I want it to stay working for years to come, so wear the other one down first before this one. As I said, this is my baby, and the fact that none of my kids have had the privilege of riding this baby, let alone owning it, shows how much I trust you, so don't make it mis-placed trust. Enjoy the joy rides, this baby is even more of a smooth rider than the other one, so it should be easier to ride.
Signed,
Jon'
I chuckled at the truth in the note. When Jon was still living here he hadn't even allowed me to touch this beauty, and so the fact that he was allowing me to own it was truly an honor, so I took it home first before the easy rider. I came back after getting both bikes home for the keys and to shut the door of the building, locking it up with the spare key Jon had let me have before he left and made my way back home, my only weapons the knives at my waist. When I got back home I put the motorcycle keys in the key dish on the table just to the right of the front door before going into the kitchen to check the time on the stove.
It read 5:43 so I rushed outside and whistled using the whistle on my necklace, calling my dogs to me. The first of my dogs to reach me was Cocoa, a five year old pit bull with chocolate colored fur, hence the name. I quickly took her inside and, when I stepped onto the porch, all my dogs were waiting in front of the door. Rudy, another five year old pit bull with orange-brown fur sat next to Price, my only adult male pit bull, and he had black fur with white spots. In front of them were the two five month old border collie puppies I had gotten from the local animal shelter, the girl, Callie, had brown fur with white spots while Cordan, the male, had black fur with white spots. The last dog was the biggest, it wasn't even a dog actually. It was a wolf I'd found as a cub, injured in the woods near my house, and I'd raised it as my own, it had grey fur, and I named it Nymeria like Arya Starks dire wolf from The Game of Thrones.
I tried beckoning them inside, but they were so used to being yelled at for going inside they weren't willing, so I had to pick them all up and take them inside one by one before they got the fact that they could come inside now. I went out to fill up their food bowls and water bowls and took them inside so they could have their supper before getting the chicken feed, taking it down to the chickens downstairs who were most likely still hungry as well before I locked up every door and window on the ground level to the outside, sighing with relief and weariness as I walked into the kitchen to make myself something.
I decided on reheating the spaghetti from yesterday's supper, which I wasn't allowed to have, and ate it with some beer that had belonged to my foster fathers, cold from refrigeration. After finishing my meal I washed my dishes off and put them away, threw away the empty beer can and went to a guest room door and opened it, putting all the food and water bowls in there before fired my attention to my dogs.
"This is your guys new room." I say, pointing to the guest room. "Now go inside. "As if they spoke English themselves they all padded right on in, except for the puppies of course, who decided it fun to sit at my feet. Sighing, I picked them up and put them into the room before shutting the door, going to my own room to get some sleep. Normally I didn't go to bed this early, but I wasn't going to complain to myself, I was more tired today than I'd ever been before, I'd get a shower in the morning. At least I got to stay in my pajamas today.