Everything is gone. My mother is gone. My father is gone. My sister is gone. Hell, even my dog is gone. There was nothing left for me in the world. So, why am I alive?
Because my sister talked to me until her last breath. She told me, "Don't you give up. There will be something out there for you. And it will be magnificent. You'll find it soon, I bet. But all you need is hope. And there is hope. Just keep looking." After that last word, she made no more effort. There wasn't anything left in her. She made one more struggling sound and was gone.
The last of my strength was spent on her. Crying, I held up my bow, stretching it back until it was ready to launch. I stared at her bloodied face, taking in every detail.
Her golden blond hair framed her rounded face. Her button nose, freckles splashed on the surface, gave way to low cheek bones. Her eyes were startling, however. The bloodshot emerald eyes boring into me.
At last, I released the bow, the arrow piercing her forehead. That was the moment I realized I would no longer be living. I was only existing. Just being.
Eliza and I had been living in a warehouse. In Atlanta of all places. We were originally from Ohio and lived together on the border of Louisiana. But when the world ended we booked it to Atlanta having heard the broadcast. It told us there was a refugee center, military protection, the whole nine yards. But when we got there, no one was alive. It was a wasteland. The city had been overrun it seemed. There was no sign of any kind of life, for miles.
We then decided we needed to scout an area. The closest thing we found was this old abandoned warehouse just inside the city.
And here I was, trapped in a closet, waiting for daylight. I haven't slept for days, for fear of those things out there. I haven't eaten in days, just because I couldn't get outside. It's been a horrible few days, even without my sister having died just two days ago.
Heaving a sigh, I rested my back against the wall, my bow on one side and quiver on the other. My backpack lay on the far corner of the closet.
I remember packing. We were both in a frenzied state of panic. The local news channel could be heard throughout the house. I dumped my drawers, searching for everything I needed. Two changes of clothing, a few pictures of the family, and some soap. Everything else I wanted to take, like my ipod, my favorite movies and books—all those things had to stay behind. Before I left my bedroom though, I grabbed the one thing I would never be able to live without. The Lord of the Rings trilogy.
My sister laughed at me and showed me the one thing she couldn't leave. Her razor. I chuckled at her, glad to have a small break from the panic. But then we had to leave. We grabbed two gas jugs from the garage and were on our way.
When we came to the first gas station, we found a ton of people there already. Drying up the tanks. When it came to us, we filled the jugs, our car and left. There wasn't much left. But we got enough to make it through to Georgia. Atlanta was a wasteland when we found it. Nothing there. That's when we came upon the warehouse, and set up camp. We slept on the floor, having grabbed our sleeping bags from the car. I remember telling her we were lost in the world. No family except each other. But now, I don't even have her. I'm alone.
Alive but alone.
That's where I find myself now. Alive and alone.
Sighing, I turned into the wall, readying myself for some kind of rest. But something alerted me. A sound coming from downstairs. I bet it's those flesh eaters coming to find me. Why not just open the door and let them find me? Let them eat me to their heart's content. Sigh.
There was nothing left for me, why not? Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. That's what I had to tell myself. Tomorrow.
Suddenly, I could hear footsteps. They were walking up the stairs. Echoing against the walls. I could hear ragged breath coming closer. I readied my bow and aimed it at the door. I was waiting for them to find me. So I could kill them. My bow was swift. And I knew I could kill at least a dozen of them, as long as they didn't come at me in a group, grabbing for me, their chops biting at me.
The footsteps could be heard, closer this time. But I noticed, it was only a pair. No more had found me. There was only one. My breath hitched in my throat as the footsteps made a shadow against the door. They stopped, listening for me. But I wouldn't let them in. Not even if God told me himself. And it seemed he did, as my foot slipped from under me. I went down with a bang and a groan. My shoulder was hurt. Bloodied. There was nothing left for me. Might as well open the door and let them feed on me. The door jiggled and I somehow found my bow and notched an arrow quickly. I sat on my knees, readying myself for the door to open. And when it did, I was shocked.
Two hands went in the air, and all I could hear was a whisper of "Don't shoot me!"