There's times that I remember the poem by Robert Frost that talks about the world ending in ice or fire, and I find myself laughing because I'm sure he'd be shocked to find that the event to bring the world to it's knees would be a zombie apocalypse. It's hard to find things to laugh at these days and I'm worried that eventually I'll forget how. Everything's changed the past few weeks and frankly even if this all blows over I don't think things will ever be the same. William still has hope though and I have to admit that gives me some hope too. Is it crazy to have hope in a time like-
"Why do you keep writing in those things?" A man's voice calls out in the dimly lit apartment, and the young girl ceases her scribbling. She looks up at him, her emerald eyes meeting his russet brown ones, and scoffs lightly.
"Why do you keep cleaning your guns five times a day?" She asks sarcastically, nodding her head towards the guns spread out on the wood table in front of him. He shot her a stern look that told her to answer his question and she sighed. "I don't know Will... It gives me something to do and somewhere deep inside I have hope that this whole thing will end someday and people will want to know what happened, whether I'm around," she tried to avoid saying alive, "to tell it or this is." She raised her leather bound book in the air.
"You'll be there, Mason. If anyone can survive this thing it'll be you." Was the first out of Will's mouth and Mason refrained from rolling her eyes.
"William have you not seen where we are? I know we wait everyday for a radio call or something, but they've left us Will! They've left us in this godforsaken city or they're dead. Either way there's no-one coming for us, and soon we'll be dead too." Mason could tell she had angered her partner but she didn't care. It was better for him to get his fantasy over with now.
"I never thought that you would be one to give up so easily." He retort was bitter, and she rolled her eyes.
"Who ever said I was giving up? I'm simply stating the facts." Before Will could respond she went back to writing, signaling that their conversation was over.
this? Most of the time I think it is. Or at least I think it's crazy to think that I'll be there to see the day that this hellish nightmare ends. The world has...well...had...billions of people on it so what makes me different than any of them? Will has explained it to me before, on one of the first nights we realized that we were stuck here until further notice. I've got a spark he said, a fire that doesn't reside in the hearts of most people, a will to live. It's that burning fire he proceeded to tell me that will carry me on when most people would give up. And I guess I see that fire in him too, because in the end neither of us would be here without the other. But as the days go on and we continue to live in this small dingy apartment in the middle of Atlanta, literally one of the worse places to be in all of Georgia I feel that fire start to dwindle into an ember and I'm afraid that one day it'll go out for good... I don't admit that I afraid often, never really, but I'm afraid now, and the only thing that gets me through the fear some nights are the lingering thoughts of him. And as these thoughts race through my head I know that I won't give up without a fight until I know that there is absolutely no possibility that he's out there. I think it was somebody else famous that once said there's a party at the end of the world...