They don't notice me. Maybe I am dead. Well, my life has no meaning anymore, I'm covered in my own family's insides, and I practically abandoned the people I loved and saved myself. So yes, I do consider myself dead. Maybe I should just find a sharp object, and hack myself to pieces, just how my family died.
Might as-well. The world is overrun by the undead, there is no one left to care and grieve about. My life has literally been destroyed, and I let it happen.
Your pathetic, Elizabeth Kelsey Walden.
The criticizing and pity lasted the walk through my deserted town, putting myself down with every stumble of exhaustion. I was getting close to nowhere, having not such a clue as to where I was planning to stay. The only benefit of the moment was the dead didn't even notice me, usually sniffing my dirty figure, but would always just trudge off to find new victims.
My guess was that I was too worthless to be their new chew toy.
Every hour there was the usual scream or cry for mercy, but before I could calculate where the yell was coming from, it would usually be muffled and never heard from again. As the thought of committing suicide and escaping the madness became a satisfying thought, a sudden gun-shot vibrated through my ears, waking me up from my isolation.
Alive. People are actually defending themselves. But why should I save them? They are meaningless to me. With the state I'm in, they might as well shoot me… or I could turn the gun on myself and escape everything. It's quick and I will barely feel it. I wonder if it will look the same as shooting yourself in the face is in the movies…? But before I could question anything else about the matter, my feet were already moving in the direction I heard the noise.
"Who are you?!" a dark-skinned man yelled, holding the intimidating gun firmly in his hands, quivering over another man I couldn't see clearly. The other man had lighter skin, was lying down, and also wearing a large light blue shirt. It didn't look like he was moving.
"Carl…" he moaned quietly. I could barely hear what he was saying from where I was standing. Peeking my head around the corner of the dark green house wasn't the best coverage, but they were too engrossed in their dilemma they didn't notice a beaten-up and bloodied young girl staring right at them.
"Are you bitten?!" the man with the gun questioned with a low, deadly growl, ready to blow the helpless man's brains to smithereens at any given moment. But before he could answer, the man in blue became relaxed, and literally stopped moving.
Well, he must be dead then. Suddenly, a small dark-skinned boy appeared behind the larger man, supposedly his son.
"Dad…what are we going to do with him?" He questioned with a small innocent stare at his father, his wide brown eyes confused but curious.
"Might as-well take him inside. He might be of use to us in the future." the older man answered, putting a reassuring hand on his son's small shoulder.
And that gun is use to me, I thought with a glare, staring down the shining pistol placed firmly in his hand. But how am I going to steal it? Before I could think of a solution, a growl and a moan was heard behind me, forcing me to turn around and face a reasonably big horde of undead limping and shuffling my way. Or to be precise, towards the gun shot sound I heard before.
I quickly faced back to the trio, only to see the end of the man's boot enter the house they were positioned in front of before. The heavily boarded up door slammed shut, also shutting down my ideas and hopes. As the sounds of the undead came closer with every exhale of my shaking chest, there was only one word to sum up my little situation.
"Shit."