I could never understand why the smell of sulphur was everywhere I went. I travelled far from where I called home, all at the hands of a global outbreak. Only few details were given before television channels were considered a miracle; it was some kind of cross-contamination deal – the bird flu and rabies. That's at least what I'd heard. Either way, it left the world in ruins.
Wherever you went, people charged through the streets in a frantic panic, seeking out a safe-house or some kind of barricade from the flesh-eaters who lumbered after them. They were fast, too; the zombies. They'd sprint if they weren't missing legs. Blasts could be heard from every direction and buildings toppled over onto the busy streets, ending the lives of some desperate humans who simply wanted to outlive the disease. All in all, it left cities with rubble and chard bricks for buildings. If you were lucky, you'd find a decent building that managed to survive grenade explosions and fired missiles in which you could take shelter in for a brief amount of time before the zombies caught onto your scent, or heard your nervous breathing.
The sun seemed like a miracle; a source of heat that didn't attract the undead but managed to light your way and keep you half-decently warm. The colder months proved the hardest to live through due to the lack of shelter around the world. I, for one, got lucky in those months. With a small frame and a height of 5'2", I was able to fit in smaller places, meaning I could find shelter in the oddest of places. Any place was home, as long as the rain couldn't touch me and the zombies couldn't see where I was sleeping.
It was in the August of 2015 that I'd taken refuge in a small department store that'd long been rid of canned food and any other necessities you might find in such a place. Most of the shelves had been knocked over, some lights hung from the ceiling; altogether, it was a decent place to be staying, given the conditions of the world at that point – not many places were in that good of shape. By the time I'd gotten there, night had fallen and the moon was peaking over one of the highest mountains in the valley, bathing the streets in its glowing white light.
With the click of a button, the room before me was illuminated in a partially bright orange glow, the beam of light scanning the room at the simple twist of my wrist. There wasn't much to look at, but I made sure to barricade the front door with a fortified plank of wood that'd fallen from the ceiling above. I searched the place a while, knuckles white as I clutched the baseball-bat tight within my grasp, clearly on edge. Once I'd made it to the back, I leapt over the counter of the pharmacy and slithered to the ground, desperate for sleep. It wasn't often one was able to sleep peacefully.
A sigh bypassed my lips; water. Dragging my seemingly strength-less body to its knees, I removed the small pack from my shoulders and rested it on my thighs, undoing the small clip at the front to retrieve a short bottle of water from within.
"Only two left..." I uttered under my breath, slowly unscrewing the cap of the bottle. The moment the water hit my lips, I was in heaven. Obviously, preservation of resources was the basis of survival, as I've stated, so drinking water after a long day's travel was luxury.
Something to my right gave a cold and hollow click before a frigid barrel was pressed to my temple, and my body froze up quite completely. I dared not look. Sure, I knew the undead couldn't handle weapons, but I didn't want my brains on the tile floor.
"What're y'doin' here," a male voice questioned monotonously. I could tell at that point that he wasn't too much older than I, but old enough to handle a gun.
My eyes fluttered to a close, afraid of seeing the flash of a gunshot before my untimely death. "Shelter."
"Yeah, well, s'taken," the male stated coldly, readjusting the barrel on my temple.
"It's just for the night, I swear," I managed to say without choking up.
"On yer' feet," the voice muttered, "C'mon."
Without hesitation, I let my bag lightly tumble to the floor as I stood, staring into the darkness, as my flashlight was still beside my bag. The stranger roughly pushed me against the counter, holding the gun to my head as one of his hands patted me down.
"I ain't dyin' t'day," he said, finishing up his pat-down. I didn't have any weapons on me, which I was thankful for. Come to think of it, I had nothing on me except the necessary articles of clothing. I didn't say anything in return.
"Grab the flashlight," the male said quietly, allowing me to fall to my knees and slowly rise again, flashlight in hand. He abruptly swiped it from my hand and pointed it up at me, lighting up my face. In the reflected light, I could see him glaring at me, but it wasn't very clear. It was like I could only see his eyes.
"Name?" the boy asked, gun still pressed to my temple.
"Jen," I answered in a whisper, trying to ignore the barrel against my head.
There was a moment of silence before he finally huffed and took a step back, clicking off the flashlight.
"They're attracted t'light, sound, an' smell, if y'didn't already know," he murmured through the darkness.
"Yeah, I know," I replied calmly.
I could hear him shuffle a little, and it was when I heard him grab my bag that I began to panic. A hand grasped my arm and the male began tugging me further into the dark without warning. "If you're stayin', I ain't gonna let y'get me killed. Y'gonna stay upstairs wit' me. Y'try anythin', I'll shoot ya'."
My heart was racing at that point. Who was this stranger? Was he going to throw me out to the zombies when morning came around? I didn't know what to think.
A few minutes later, after climbing a set of stairs and walking through a door or two, he released my arm and closed the door to a tightly-packed but illuminated room. The instant I realized there was light, I turned to face the stranger, only to find a young boy with jet black hair staring back. He was a lot different than I'd expected, but I was happy to see he wasn't some older guy who had the biggest upper-hand. Of course, I wasn't the one with the gun, but an older man with a gun would've been a lot worse in my books.
"Jus'... go t'sleep 'er whatever," he said, ruffling his hair in an agitated manner as he walked to the corner of the room, plopping down beside a gun-case, my bag by his side.
I have to admit, I wasn't that uncomfortable. Another human's presence was precious, and I hadn't seen any other untainted humans in a very long time. With a sigh, I made my way to the wall opposite of the door, sitting down against it, arms locked around my legs.
"My bag...?" I asked warily, looking over at him as he fiddled with the clasps on the case.
"Got any weapons?" he questioned in response, not bothering to look up at me.
"Only my bat, which we kind of... left downstairs," I uttered. That was when he looked up at me with dulled green eyes.
"We?" he echoed, cocking an eyebrow, "There's no 'we'. There's me, an' there's you."
I dropped my blue eyes from the boy and sighed under my breath. No 'we'? If we were just two strangers who were solely fighting for themselves, why did he bring me up there? He could've just left me downstairs. "Sorry..."
"Don't waste yer' breath," the boy hissed, lifting the top of the gun-case up to reveal a weapon I couldn't see.
Silence was our source of discussion for a long while, and he spent his time cleaning the barrel of a second gun he'd had hidden away in the case. By the looks of it, it appeared to be some kind of rifle – or maybe a sniper. I wasn't sure at the time. All I knew was that he was very lucky to have such weapons with him.
I mustered up the courage to speak after a prolonged period of silence. "Your name...?"
"Y'don't need t'know. You're never gonna see me again," he replied, placing the cleaned barrel back in its case.
"Why'd you ask for mine, then?" I retorted, keeping my eyes on him.
"Well..."
It seemed that I'd stumped him.
"Glitch," he mumbled back to me, proceeding to lock up the gun.
"A glitch?"
"No," the boy said, looking up at me, "That's my name."
You can see why I was kind of doubtful at first. "Glitch? That's your name?"
"Yeah. Got a prob'm wit' that?"
"N-No," I stammered a little, dropping my eyes to the floor.
It was quiet a moment.
"Yo, y'shy 'er som'n, kid? There's no need t'be shy anymore. Look at the world. Who's gonna judge ya'."
"People like you," I said in a murmur, hugging my knees tight.
"Why would I judge? There's honestly no point anymore. Not that there was b'fore, anyways."
There was no way to properly respond to that, so I just... didn't. After a few short seconds, I stationed myself on my side and closed my eyes, hoping that nothing would disrupt my sleep. Well, nothing that could rip off my skin with its teeth.