Why is the smell of rotting flesh the only thing that's in my nose literally 24/7. I would love to just take in a big whiff of air and smell a barbeque. The town that I'm passing through was used as a mass grave in the beginning stages of the apocalypse. Dead bodies line the streets, and are piled high in once flourishing backyards. The stench, it's almost too much for me to handle, but I have smelled worse. Passing by a small field of flowers reminds of a time when I wasn't always on the road. I was so young when all this started, surprised I really remember anything of the old world. I've stayed in this town longer than I wanted to, but the endless walking takes a lot out of me and I do occasionally need rest. I haven't been able to start a fire in the past couple days, the horde would see it or some scavengers that look like they haven't showered since the outbreak. Honestly, if it came down to it; I'd want the walkers to end me, not the others. I begin to count how long I've been on my own, but I realize the number is higher than I care to count. Sometimes I think about joining a group, but then the pain of losing everyone I've ever cared about suppresses the thought, I'm better off alone, I just get people killed.
"Alright, stop where you are...hands up." A man's voice calls out through the quiet abyss and rings in my ears. My throat suddenly feels dry and I can't swallow.
"What do you want?" I ask, my left hand reaching for the pistol tucked in the holster attached to the back of my pants.
"Everything you have." He says in a country twang. "I see you reaching for that gun. Ya ain't that smooth."
"I'm a quick shot though." I inch as far back as possible from him, very slowly. Once I get enough space, my legs kick into action and turn me around fast, my shoes spin in the gravel. I take off running, but I'm not fast enough to outrun his bullet. My brain can hear the gun go off, but it doesn't process in my head until I'm face down in the dirt, clutching my thigh. "You shot me, asshole!"
"It didn't have to be this way, girl. You could've just gave me your shit." He smiles slightly, his teeth brown and most of them missing. "Now I'm gonna have to kill ya."
Quick shot.
My finger wraps around the trigger, the bullet flies from the gun, the puff of smoke blasts in the air. Time seems to be in slow motion for me. He's raising his gun, about to end my life but I'm faster. Right between the eyes, blood splashes out of the fatal wound. His body falls forward and pins me to the ground. I lie there, looking up to the sun, wishing I was back out my house, with my parents, with the treehouse. Then there's black.
THREE WEEKS LATER.
I walk the empty roads, limping from the gunshot that drew the horde of undead right for me. I didn't have time for proper suturing, I had to stay ahead of them. So, now I'm on the lookout for any sort of medicine or small villages with doctors. But the medicine has been picked clean and the towns are destroyed by armies of walkers. My luck sucks basically. So I did what I had to do and tied my nice flannel shirt around my leg, tight enough to stop the bleeding and start the healing process. The wound reminds of the time I got bit by vicious dog, I was just trying to feed the damn thing and it latched onto my arm. The scar is still there, letting me know to never trust a wild animal again. The sun beats down on my face and boils me, like a heater against my skin. I take refuge in a shack nearby. It's not pretty and it smells kinda like a bloated deer on the side of the road, but it'll have to do for now.
The door opens, letting out a loud horrid sound, like grinding gears. Once I'm inside, I pile up anything I can in front of the door and pull the shades down. A sigh comes from the depths of my lungs and I plop down on the mattress that's neatly placed on the dirty wooden floor. I need to check the wound, I'm reluctant. I know it's gonna look really ugly and nasty, so I don't really want to. But I need to know if amputation is in my future. My fingers fumble for the knot that holds the shirt together. It falls to the floor and reveals a bright crimson red stain on my jeans, so it's bleeding anymore but that doesn't mean anything. My eyes shut as tight as possible and I slide my pants a down a little past my knees. Here's the moment of truth. I open up my eyes just a tiny bit, enough to see if my whole thigh is green or something. It's not. I finally look at it, still a bit ugly but the healing is doing just fine. No amputation anytime soon. I don't even hesitate, I throw myself back onto the bed and drift into a deep well deserved sleep.
I wake up to the sound loud thumps, like a bunch of someones running into the shack. I peek out the window and that's exactly what it is. The horde has caught up with me, I let my exhaustion take over and make me sleep too long. The walls start to wobble as they smack against the outside. If they keep doing it, the whole place is going to come tumbling down with me inside it. I collect my stuff and throw everything out of the doorway. Fingers wrapped tightly around the handle, my mind asks me if this is a good idea, but I ignore the question and run out into the pouring rain. There's walkers every way I look. But my legs are taking me to safety. I come to a complete stop at the edge of a cliff. Behind me, the undead start to pick up the pace, almost in full sprint. I have no time to think, there's water down there...so that's where I'll land. I close my eyes and jump.