The sky burned red, ashes floating through the thick air. I struggled to breath, having to fight my way along the street. I crept slowly along, staying as silent as my body allowed. Of course, that was difficult for me, being the loud-mouthed Dane that I am. Still, I kept on. I had to find them. Any of them. I had to know that they were okay.
It had been weeks. I was cold, tired and hungry. But most of all, I was alone. I had lost contact with my friends, Tino, Berwald, Lukas, and also Emil. The thing that hurt me most was that I hadn't heard from my most loved, Lars. I had to admit it, I was scared. I was scared for myself, but mostly for the ones I cared for. I wished so badly to be with Lars, his arms wrapped around me, protecting me, keeping me safe, keeping me warm. I missed him.
I stopped in my tracks. A few tears trailed down my blood-splattered cheeks. My body was shaking, but I stood strong. I had to find them. No matter what, I had to keep going. I looked towards the sky, my bright blue eyes rimmed red, straining to see past the ash clouds that hung in the air. The sun was setting. I had to find somewhere to set up, and fast. It was when it was dark that they came out. Of course you had the few that would traipse around during daylight, but the mass would lie in wait, wait for darkness to fall for the few unfortunate who ventured out. My pace quickened, avoiding being noticed by any of the infected that were scattered in the otherwise empty street.
Well, when I say infected, I mean zombies. It was a disease, but it was easier to say zombies. They looked like it, so why not? They were infected with a mutant disease that fucks with their brain. That's my way of explaining it. It made them go bat-shit crazy, eating people, and left in a state between life and death. I felt sorry for them really, wandering around aimlessly, their mind all but gone. I guess that's part of the reason I found it easy to kill them. It was the only way to put them out of their misery, and keep me alive.
I cautiously made my way inside a pretty beaten club. The windows were smashed, bottles lay on the floor, the alcohol thrown over the walls and covering the floor. I moved slowly through the worn place. I scanned around, ensuring that I was alone. I came to a large, sturdy door, obviously where they used to store the booze. I looked the door from top to bottom, knowing immediately how to open it. I followed my instinct, the door softly clicking open within seconds. I smirked to myself, readying my bloody axe, slowly pushing the door open. I searched inside. It was empty and it was difficult to get in unless you knew how, like I had. The infected had no chance of getting in here.
I locked up the door, double checking that the room was secure. I set down my backpack. I pulled a small blanket from it, pulling my hood over my head. I rested my head against my bulking bag, axe gripped firmly in my hand and pulled the blankets to cover as much of me as I could. I closed my eyes, drifting into a troubled sleep.