Author's Note:

Hello, everyone. If you clicked on this story randomly, don't read it. I don't like it. If you clicked on this story from the Beginning, don't read it. I don't like it. Basically I just don't like this story. I'm leaving it up for anyone that really wants to read it, but all of Lucy's story will be told in The End.

Why don't I like this story? I'm not exactly sure. I couldn't really get into Lucy's character, I had a lot of writer's block while doing it, I dunno. It just all bubbled up. Basically, a lot of this was rushed, the last half didn't go through a final edit. I like the first few chapters, but I absolutely deplore the last few.

Anyway, this is the last warning. Don't read this. Go read The Beginning. If you already read The Beginning, follow it and wait for The End. If you've already followed it... then... um... watch the Walking Dead again.

So, if you've completely ignored all of these warnings, go ahead. The story's below. There are absolutely no more AN's except for the one at the very end. Read at your own discretion, and please don't review that you hate it. I already hate it.

(This update on 8/15/14)

End Author's Note.

December 25, 2009

So… Hi. I just got this diary thing from Mom. Well, you, I suppose. It's supposed to be a journal to God, and Mom says it can help me sort out my thoughts and prayers, but I don't really get what that means. Anyway, I'll try to write in you, so… I guess I'll start with a prayer.

Dear God, thank You for this Christmas. Thank You for all of the gifts that I got and thank You for bringing my family together for today. I will always be grateful for the things that You give me. I pray that you'll keep my family safe and happy, and that we'll all have long, wonderful lives together, full of more Christmases and birthdays and everything else in between.

Happy Birthday Jesus.

Amen.

February 14, 2010

I just realized that I haven't written in this thing since I got it. It's my birthday today, but since this is a journal to God I guess you already know that. Anyway, I found this while I was putting away the new clothes that Sami got me and I figured I'd try to write in it again. Of course, no promises, because I still don't really understand the whole 'keeping your thoughts in order' thing that Mom was talking about.

Dear God, thank You for the gifts I got today. Thank You for bringing my family together again and thank You for that light dusting of snow that made everything look so beautiful. Also, a happy Valentine's Day, which I know is really to celebrate the Saint Valentine, who married people in secret. I pray that when I get married, there won't be people trying to kill me. Once again, I pray for my family to have long happy lives together.

Amen.

March 8, 2010

I did it again. I forgot about this. But it doesn't matter, because I thought I probably would.

Dear God, I pray that You heal my family of the flu that's bothering them, and I pray that I don't catch it. I also pray that I might be able to grasp Latin verb conjugation, though that might be more of a matter of motivation. Anyway, thank You for this day, and I pray for many more.

Amen.

April 1, 2010

I don't know how he did it, but Drew actually got a real owl to deliver a letter to our window. I think I almost hyperventilated before he started laughing and I remembered it was April Fool's Day. Mom and Dad kept asking him over and over how he trained the owl or where he got the money to rent it, but he wouldn't tell them. It felt like an episode of a Disney Channel show. Anyway, I know that You know how he did it, so if he never tells, I'm sure that You'll tell me in seventy years or so.

Dear God, thank You for the wonderful family and the fantastic life that you've given me. Thank You for happiness and laughter, and I hope that there's a lot more of that in my life. Please help me understand Algebra a bit better, and please help me convince Mom and Dad to get a dog.

Amen.

I don't know why I grabbed this thing while we were packing, but I have you now. And since this is a journal to God, I don't have to tell you what this disease is, because you already know. I don't have to tell you that sick people are attacking each other and that I don't know where Mom and Dad are. I don't have to tell you that we're travelling to Georgia looking for a safe place. I don't have to say any of that. Just this.

Dear God, please, please, please, please cure whatever this is. I've never wanted anything more in my entire life. And please keep us all safe.

Amen.

P.S. Mr. Goddard is dead. I thought I should write that down.

Day 21

I don't actually know what the date is, so I'm just going with that. It's been 21 days since this disease broke out.

Dear God, You didn't cure this disease, but that's okay. I know that there are things that You do that are beyond my comprehension, and I know that You have a plan. I just hope that that plan doesn't involve anymore death. I pray that you keep us safe.

Amen.

P.S. The lady in the pantsuit, the man with the red hat, the boy with a broken leg.

Aunt Jenny.

Day 25

We got ran out of the house yesterday, but that's okay. We figured out how to kill those things. I don't feel bad about killing them, because they're already dead. I actually feel good about killing them, because it's like putting them out of their misery. I don't think that the people who used to belong to those bodies would want to know that they're trying to kill people now.

Dear God, please keep us safe. Keep us alive. Let us find food and water, and let Jamie get used to solids soon. Let my aim stay true, and let none of us die. Just please, please, please keep us safe.

Amen.

P.S. The ones that Sami shot, the one that we ran over, and the lady I hit with my knife.

Day 27,

We found some survivalist's old bunker. It's stocked with enough food and water to last us awhile, and I think we have enough formula to keep Jamie at bay while we get him used to solid food. Everything's pretty locked down, and I feel safe for the first time in a while.

Dear God, thank you for this bunker, thank You for the safety it provides, thank You for keeping us all alive another day. I pray that we stay safe here, and I pray that in the days that we spend down here that the world will come back to order.

I also pray that You rid me of the nightmares that have been haunting me.

Amen.

P.S. A man and a woman in the woods. One outside the bunker.

Day 34,

Dear God, I didn't know that a disaster event would be so boring. Even though I wish You'd give us a bit of entertainment, I have more important things to ask you for. I hope that while we're in this bunker bored out of our minds that the world is getting cleaned up above us. I pray that the scientists have come up with some sort of vaccine, or that You've let the dead bodies have some peace.

Also… I pray for some understanding. I know that everything You do is wise, but I'm having a hard time understanding this. I don't understand why You'd kill so many people. Of course, You've killed everybody before, in the Flood. Is this punishment for how far we've fallen? If it is, I pray that You'll have mercy on my little siblings.

I still love You even now.

Amen.

Day 50,

Dear God,

We're leaving in less than a month. I pray that You've made the world better. I pray so hard for that. Please.

Amen.

I never remember my whole nightmare. I never remember the colors or the shapes or if there were any people in my dream. I just remember screaming. And groaning. And moaning. And more screaming. Then some crying. And then more screaming.

The screaming never stops.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when I'm lying awake with Jamie tucked into the crook of my left arm and Will cuddling my right, and I'm listening to nothing but the breathing around me, I swear I can hear people screaming in the distance. I try to convince myself that it's just my mind playing tricks on me, but I know it's entirely possible that it's real.

I hope it's not real.

I don't get too much sleep.

I don't think that Sami's sleeping very much, either. She spends a lot of time running a hand through her hair, which she's always done when she's stressed. I don't think she even notices. I know it's bad when that perfect part down the middle of her pin-straight brown hair is nowhere to be found. I remember thinking her hair was perfect.

I haven't seen that perfect part in a few days.

Jamie's stopped crying so much, and I don't know if that's good or bad. It means he's getting used to whatever this is, whatever kind of life we're living in now, and I think that's equal parts good and bad. Because what if the world stays like this and we never find Mom and Dad again? Jamie won't remember them one little bit. Will'll be lucky if he does. Fiona will have a few images, Julie will have a few memories, Drew will remember more clearly. And then there'll be me, who remembers them perfectly, until one day I'll find that I don't.

I already forget what color Mom's eyes were. I know that Dad's were blue.

Sami's looking at a map again. I don't know what she's hoping to find. She's been staring at that map for the past—check the marks on the wall—twenty-six days.

Drew's tinkering with a broken radio again. He's been doing that for about twenty days. He hasn't fixed it yet. I'm not sure if he really thinks he can or if he's just looking for something to do.

Julie's playing with Will. They devised some game having to do with water bottle caps about a week ago. I don't understand it, but it passes their time adequately.

Fiona's pouting again. She still wants to go outside.

I check my numbers again. I come out to twelve, and then sixteen if I ration conservatively, and then I try again and I get thirteen. I pretty much come to the conclusion that we have two weeks. Two weeks until we're out of food.

Sami and I have talked about that. It would be better if one of us could just leave, find a place with supplies, and then get back here, but we're in the middle of the woods. Maybe that's what she's doing with that map, trying to figure out where we are in the woods.

And anyway, I don't think I want to ever split up. I don't ever want to be alone.

Have I ever been alone in my life?

Honestly, I don't think I have. There would always be my little siblings or my parents or my grandparents or Sami or my aunt and uncle. I was homeschooled, Mom stayed at home. I've never been alone. Not once in my life.

I think I spend a good minute or two staring at the paper in front of me, pondering on that fact, before I hear something. Like a quiet thump, and a slight change in temperature, and I look up at the same time that Sami screams "FI!"

I jump up, following Sami out the door that Fiona just snuck out of, and before I've even gotten halfway up the staircase I hear my little sister screaming.

And then Sami.

But Sami's is a different kind of screaming.

I'm not sure if I want to get to the top of the stairs—even though I need to. I pull a knife out of my belt and bolt up the last few steps and turn the corner and see the open door and see Sami screaming and Fiona screaming and another Dead-One coming—

—throw the knife, hit the target perfectly. Sami takes down hers, and then she's hovering over Fiona and still screaming, but also crying. And yelling. Yelling at Fi "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!" and "I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE!"

And I see the big bloody gash on my baby sister's neck and the way that her face is getting so pale…

Some sort of sound leaves my throat. I don't know what it is, and my knees give out and my vision narrows—

Fi's fingers move. And then they drop.

I make another noise.

Sami screams. And throws a punch at the ground. And then stands up and throws a punch at a tree. I just stare at my little sister. I didn't—I didn't get to her in time. I didn't get to touch her one more time or say please please please and she was only a few feet away but my stupid knees gave out—

Fiona's dead.

My baby sister's dead.

Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi Fi

Dead.

Gone.

Forever.

I feel light-headed.

And for the first time in my life I really understand how someone could believe that there isn't a God.

Day 53,

Dear God, I faltered. Just for a moment. You know that already. And You know why. And I know that You forgive me. But I don't understand. I want to understand. I can almost understand what happened to Aunt Jenny because you put Sami here to protect us but now she's shut down and she can't protect us and I don't know wha

Day 67,

We're leaving tomorrow.

I know You haven't listened to me before, but please keep us safe. Please. I love You so much, just do this one this, please please please

"You alright?" Sami asks quietly.

"Just tired," I mutter "Didn't sleep well."

She nods and speeds up to walk a few steps ahead of me. I hold back an eye-roll or a disapproving sigh. Sami wouldn't notice that anything was wrong with me these days. She only asked because I stumbled. I don't like what's happening to her. I don't like how… detached she's getting.

I sigh and shift Will in my arms. He squirms and my right arm cramps up. "Bubby, can you walk?" I ask him softly. He scrunches up his face in apparent disgust at the idea of walking, but after a few moments he nods and wiggles his legs.

I smile and kneel down to set him gently at the ground. I tuck a small lock of brown hair behind his ear and smile. He smiles back and whispers "Whena we gonna stop?"

"Whenever we get out of the woods," I reply.

"When's dat?"

"I don't know," I say, trying to sound more hopeful than I feel. Logically, I know that we're going to get out of the woods; we're in a first world country, we'll find something. But there's a subtle dread in my stomach, eating me up, telling me that we're not going to make it out of the woods. Ever.

I try to ignore it.

While we were in that bunker, the military was able to get a handle on things again. That has to have happened. The military is strong enough to handle this. And if they're not, what chance do seven kids have?

Six. Six kids. Not seven.

My stomach does a roll and I stand up. "Let's just keep walking," I whisper to Will. He nods and takes my hand, and we keep on walking.

It's still morning. The sun hasn't reached the high point in the sky yet. We decided to head west for no particular reason, but we needed a direction so that we wouldn't end up going in circles. Sami and Drew both have compasses, but the sun could just as easily direct us.

But despite the sun telling me that we haven't been walking for more than an hour, I feel like we've been trudging through the woods for days. That ever-present dread is just gnawing at my stomach. I feel raw. My legs feel wobbly. My head is spinning. There's a ringing in my ears—

No, not a ring. A moan.

I scream as I step back and grab my knife. I jerk Will behind me before Sami comes out of nowhere and clubs the Dead-One with a crowbar. How did it get that close to me? I didn't even see it.

"Sami—"

"Behind you!" she shouts, grabbing her gun. I spin and see several more dead people ambling over. I jerk Will away again, behind Sami, grab a knife and throw. It hits the closest one as Sami's gun makes a big BANG followed by Drew's gun and suddenly they're not just in front of us, they're coming from the way we came and the way we were going and the only way to go is behind me—what direction is that? Quick thinking—north. The only free direction is north.

"Run!" Sami shouts.

I get a brief glimpse of Julie's dark brown ponytail disappearing behind a Dead-One, a last image of Drew with his shoulder bleeding, carrying Jamie away—

—please don't be bitten—

—and as I turn and scoop up Will, I get a last image of Sami, shooting her gun with deadly accuracy, a Dead-One reaching out to snatch at her light brown hair—

I run. It feels like the Dead-ones are just appearing out of nowhere, popping out of trees, falling from the sky, and being spat out of the ground. I duck and dodge and weave around them, willing my arms or legs not to cramp up, praying—

—please God, please let me get through this, please let Will get through this, please—

—and just running, running, running.

I hear loud, quick gunfire. Automatic gunfire, coming from the direction I came. I chance a glance over my shoulder, and it seems like a lot of the Dead-Ones have been distracted by the sound. But not all of them.

The path ahead of me seems a lot clearer now, but they're still after me. The Dead-Ones that would like nothing better than to tear me apart and eat me.

Maybe the automatic gunfire was the military. Maybe Sami, Drew, or Julie found them. If Drew was bit, they might have a vaccine.

A loud scream.

A Sami scream.

A very loud, blood-curdling Sami scream.

Blink back a tear and keep running.

I look over my shoulder again. There's a lot less now. I don't know how their brains work, but the fact that distant gunfire and screams is more appetizing to them than a living girl in front of them is interesting, and something I need to log for later. It could save my life someday.

I think it may have saved my life just now.

I slow to a walk and look behind me. There are a lot less. Less than a dozen. Nine of them. Could I kill nine of them?

I run for another minute or so and look behind me again. The Dead-Ones are further back now due to their slowness, but they're persistent creatures. They'll keep walking in this direction even if they lose sight of me.

But they're far enough away now that I can take a small breather.

I stop and set down Will, settle into a crouch, and take some deep breaths. "Are you okay, Bubby?" I ask.

Will nods and approaches me for a hug. I return it, but look over my shoulder again; they are still coming. The difference is that they're more spaced apart now. The ones with leg or spine injuries are lagging behind the others quite a bit. In the front of the group there are three. Could I kill three?

I break away from Will and stand up. I run a hand along my belt and count the knives I have hanging there. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. I thought I had eleven left. Wait, I hit one when Sami and Drew started shooting.

Ten knives. Nine Dead-Ones. One margin for error. I can do this.

"Bubby, stay close to me," I instruct Will. He nods and grips the side of my jeans, which I've noticed recently are looser than usual. I'm losing weight.

I take a few tentative steps forward and one of the dead growls at me. I take a deep breath. Take one of my knives. Size up my target, take aim, throw—

Right in the head. It topples. It was a woman with straggly black hair.

The next two go down just as easily. A man with one arm and a boy barely older than me.

Six more coming. A woman in a pantsuit with her stomach torn open, a woman in a bloodstained robe, a man with a leg bone sticking out, a girl in a too-short skirt with her face hanging off, an old man in nice clothes with a bad ankle, and a young man in a McDonald's uniform with a large gash on his neck.

I try not to think of them as people.

It's hard.

But I'm doing them a service.

I'm freeing them.

Throw one knife, throw two. The third one misses, try again. Hit. A fourth knife, a fifth one. My last knife for too-short skirt girl. I hit her dead-on.

When the girl goes down, I realize that I'm shaking just a bit. I take another deep breath and look around; nothing but the trees.

I kneel down and look Will in the eye. "Bubby, I need to get my knives back. I need you to do something for me. Can you do something for a big boy?" He nods eagerly and I continue "I need you to stay right her and keep looking around. If you see anything moving, if you hear any leaves crunching, you need to call for me right away. Can you do that?" He smiles and nods eagerly again and I smile back. I give him a quick kiss on the head and stand up.

I walk over to the dead bodies, which are all splayed out fairly close to each other. I kneel down next to too-short skirt girl and reach for the knife in her head. I grip it tightly, pull, and it comes out with a sickening thunk sound. I grimace, wipe the blood off on the girl's shirt, and tuck the knife back into my belt.

I repeat the process with eight more Dead-Ones, and by the end I feel like I might throw up any moment. If the sight of the blood and guts isn't bad enough, it's just the smell.

I search around for my last knife, the one that I missed, and find it tucked under one of the bodies. I pull it away and tuck it into my belt, and then I'm done.

I walk a bit unsteadily back to my little brother and lean down to give him a hug.

"I didden see anyfing," he informs me.

"Good," I reply "Now, we're gonna have to keep walking, but I can't carry you anymore. Are you okay with that?"

Will pouts, but he says "Yeah," and I stand up again.

We start walking.

Hours go by. Not a single Dead-One crosses our path, and I feel a bit unsettled by that. I don't know why.

The sun moves. A squirrel scuttles by. Will coughs. A bird sings.

No Dead-Ones.

I should be happy about that.

Eventually we stop to drink some water. Unfortunately, Sami had most of the food. More fortunate is the fact that I have most of the medicine. It's not much, but there are painkillers, a small bottle of antibiotics, bandages, antiseptic, basically just a first aid kit. There's also a bottle of liquor, which I thought might be good for a medical kit.

As for food, there's nothing more than two granola bars, some crackers, and three bottles of water. But water shouldn't be terribly difficult to procure, as long as I can get a pot and something to start a fire with.

Will and I split a granola bar, finish our water, and then we're walking again. It feels pretty late when we finally get out of the woods and onto some sort of road, but looking at the sky I can tell it's probably only two o'clock or so.

The road is actually a highway, and it seems pretty desolate at first glance. I remember the roads being like this while we were travelling to Georgia. Aunt Jenny said that everybody was trying to get somewhere, so cars would be grouped into traffic jams, not scattered along the road.

I can see one of those traffic jams a ways down the road, on the horizon. Even though there might be Dead-Ones there, I figure it's a good place to look for supplies. I don't know where the next town will be, and those cars will be sure to have supplies.

So we start walking again.

Now that I have a real destination, the walk feels shorter, and I feel a little bit accomplished when we get there.

This jam only moves one way. There are cars in the other lanes that were trying to use that side of the road to travel, but clearly it didn't work. Everything's abandoned. Some cars' doors are hanging open.

The smell of death is everywhere, but I don't see any movement. Still, I need a plan for Will. One of those things could be anywhere. So, a plan. What to do?

I walk slowly between the lanes until I'm a few car lengths in, then I pick up Will and set him on the hood of a blue car next to me. "Climb onto the roof," I tell him, tapping the roof of the car. He carefully crawls up the windshield and onto the roof of the car. I smile. "Good, now keep a lookout. If you see something call for me. If one of the monsters tries to get you, scream as loud as you can. Can you do that?"

He nods.

"Good," I say quietly, backing away from the car and looking around. I let out a long breath and tap my foot. Is this what I should be doing? I don't know. But it seems like a fairly good plan.

I start exploring.

I find lots of dead bodies, but none of them move. They're all just dead.

I find a truck full of jugs for water coolers. About half of them are gone, but the rest are still there. I can figure out what to do with those later.

I find food in a few cars. It's mostly granola bars and crackers, like I have, but there're also some cans and MREs.

A few glove compartments have bottles of medicine. Nothing fancy, but everything helps.

A few lighters, some matches.

I stuff everything I find into my bag, and eventually I have to find a new bag.

I think I have enough supplies to last us awhile when I come across a car with supplies on the hood and a message written across the windshield.

SOPHIA STAY HERE WE WILL COME EVERY DAY

I glance at the supplies and the paint. They both seem pretty new. New enough that whoever left these supplies here are still looking for this Sophia person. And they haven't found her yet, because the supplies are still here. Wouldn't they collect the supplies if they found Sophia?

And they're looking for this woman, so they have to be good people. Maybe I can stay here with Will. Maybe they'll come tomorrow and we can go with them.

I like that idea.

When they find us we can find Sami, Drew, Julie, and Jamie. Everything will be alright.

I smile and drop my bags of supplies off in the car with the message written on it. We can sleep in that car tonight and tomorrow those people will find us and we can go with them. That's the plan.

I search forward a bit more, making sure there are no Dead-Ones that could pop out of nowhere, but finding none I return to Will. He informs me that he saw nothing and then I get him down. We head back to the car with the message for Sophia and I throw together two makeshift beds; one for me in the backseat, one in the front passenger's for Will.

I start a small fire in the grass between the lanes and heat up a can of Spaghetti-O's. We eat. I return to the rack of water jugs and lug one over to the car. Will tells me his stomach hurts. I give him some antacids that he says taste like candy.

The sun gets lower and I make sure that the fire is out before we settle into the car.

Day 69 (I think)

Dear God, please let me reunite with my family. I know that You have a plan, and I really hope that being separated is not a part of it. I don't want to alone. I don't think I can take care of Will by myself.

At least… let these people be good. Please. When they find us, just let them be good people that take us in. Maybe they found Sami, Drew, Julie, or Jamie. Please let that be.

Thank You for letting me and Will live another day. Thank You for all of the food I found here. Please let us get through the next few days unharmed.

I guess we'll see how things pan out tomorrow.

Amen.

10 in the woods.

A few more by Sami and Drew.

The ones in the traffic jam.

It's a bit late now. But Fiona.