Never in my 27 years of living have I expected something so wretched to happen to such a dreadfully wonderful world. But once more as I looked out upon the desolate highways in a car that was running on fumes, I was slapped in the face with the hard evidence. This was real, this was life, and this was what I had to deal with until it was decided that I finally served my time and would be permitted death.
"We're going to have to start walking, Cleo, this car's suffering is getting too loud to be safe," I muttered, stopping the vehicle so the obnoxious roaring of the engine's everlasting death via gas starvation would cease to terrorize my ears. I looked over to Cleo, who had her eyes fixated on her sister—likely in silent conversation.
I didn't take the time to figure it out. I simply got out of the car and went around to the trunk to grab my weapons.
I'd taken my time in becoming an expert at throwing knives and archery, which were better, more silent ways to get the job done. I pulled up the loose white tank top I wore and attached the belt that secured my knives in place underneath, forcing myself to be okay with the strange texture of the fabric as it clung to my bare stomach. It was a hidden asset that I needed, whether it would be because I ran out of arrows or because we met up with some particularly hostile survivors. If I could avoid a risk, I was going to.
Cleo playfully bumped me aside, pulling me from my focus with a startled jump as reaction. She only smiled and handed over my bow and arrows. I secured the quiver onto my torso, positioning the opening on my left to suit my left-handed needs. It would be faster to draw that way.
Cleo secured her pistol at her left hip and her knife at her right, resting her shotgun against the car so she could assist Annabeth—or Annie, as Cleo called her—with gearing up. Annie had some of the weaker weaponry, what you'd give the child in your average hunting family—which I personally enjoyed. Annie was barely prepared to shoot a zombie down, and often fires away at nothing in particular—so I'd rather she waste the ammo for the shitty guns.
"Sun won't be out for long, we should find some cover," Cleo stated, her eyes fixated on the brilliant ball of fire millions of lightyears away from us. According to it, it was far past noon, which meant we needed to get situated for the night quickly.
"Don't forget the rest of the supplies, Annie," I muttered, as if that truly needed to be said. In reality, we don't have time for second chances—and I wasn't going to cheat my way into release by being an idiot. When I was ready to die, I'd truly die—and fighting for live was part of the punishment.
I checked our surroundings; a mass of cars creating a blockade on the highway but a few miles up the road—which meant a high risk for undead. The forest wasn't safe if you didn't take the right precautions, which we didn't have the supplies to create. So basically we'd be camping out in some abandoned cars for the night, maybe even enjoying some food that we haven't already scavenged.
"The cars are already shelter enough, so we just need to look for supplies and watch out for freaks."
Cleo nodded, offering to scout for freaks. I nodded, and told Annie to keep close to Cleo and look for food. Of course they did so, I had made her leadership prominent with my wild fearlessness since the beginning. I've never hesitated to take down a freak, and was always quick to pull Cleo, Annabeth, and myself out of awkward situations with other survivors. They've never questioned me, and I was grateful to have some loyalty in a world gone to hell.
I kept my bow readied, alert and ready to attack despite the need to focus on finding tonight's meal. The supplies bag had food meant for when we were stuck in the forest for a night, and this was the perfect location to follow such an idea. There was no way we wouldn't be able to find something.
The sun slowly inched its way into the horizon, leaving us with a mauve, rose sky and a relatively large semi to camp out in. Our dinner consisted of granola bars and some freeze-dried bananas, which—in my opinion—had too much strange powder on it to be remotely enjoyable. But the apocalypse wasn't going to allow luxuries, and I forced my serving down anyways. Cleo helped me shut the back of the cargo hold, and we didn't bother wasting batteries on the flashlight. The southern Georgia night was chilly, our thin, fleece blankets not standing a chance against the cool walls of the cargo hold. We endured it, and I reached into my personal bag to pull out the locket. My fingers ran over the binky I'd laced the chain through, eyes slammed shut to force the slightest tear back as I remembered Evie's wonderful, laugh—the laugh that told you there were no worries inside that beautiful little mind. I fell asleep with that memory on my mind, allowing myself some solace with what used to be.