Hello there! I'm starting my hand at an AU horror story. Bechloe meets the zombie Apocalypse.
The end of the world was as brutal as everyone thought it would be. It started slowly, with the price of gas and oil increasing. No one took notice until one day the prices had gone up to about five or six dollars a gallon. No one wanted to pay that and no one knew why they had to pay that. So the government got heavily involved, and our troops started getting deployed because apparently other countries were "holding out on us". Then the attacks on the home front started. They were threats at first, no one thought it would go any further than a few emails or videos. But then people were being abducted and murdered on live television, bombs started destroying buildings, and then they started launching full on missile attacks. There was nowhere to hide and nowhere to be safe. That's when the end of the world started. I remember the day that the "Living Bomb" was dropped. It was a top secret bioweapon created for the use of stopping war. It was delivered to our front door in a handbasket, dropping 30,000 feet into the heart of New York City. Several thousand people were killed, and hundreds of thousands more were injured. We thought that was the end of it, we were proved to be very wrong. After a week people became seriously ill. It started with chest cold symptoms, then flu like symptoms, until people couldn't breathe and they couldn't keep down what they ate. It affected the masses, spreading like a fire being fed napalm. Unfortunately that wasn't the end of it, the further it spread the worse it got. People went from flu like symptoms to blood thirsty animals. They were slow, deteriorating savages. The people affected were either in direct contact with the after math of the bomb, or they shared bodily fluids with someone who was. It was essentially the zombie apocalypse.
That was only 67 days ago. I've been keeping count since the day the bomb was dropped. Most people have either died or gone into hiding. I don't know where my family is. I don't know where most of my friends are. I never know if I will survive the night. I quietly remind myself every day that this is not a dream, and that every day could be my last. The only thing that ever seems to keep me sane is the thought of bright red wavy hair and crystal blue eyes. It's the same thought though that breaks my heart over and over again at the start of each day. I had lost her before this had ever happened, I was still in basic training and she was in her last year of college.
"Chloe, I don't see why this has to be such a big deal. It's just a dance." We were arguing, but it was still nice to hear her voice.
"I know it's not a big deal to you Beca, but it is to me." I could tell she was getting aggravated but she knew how much I hated dancing. I had to be really drunk to dance comfortably, and a military ball was not somewhere you could get trashed at.
"I just don't think it's the right time Chlo. Things around here are tense, even for basic training. The last thing I need is the rest of the camp on my ass for being gay." I heard her sharp intake of breath and knew that what I had said would cost me.
"So you're okay to be out to everyone else but not people who you're going to be risking your life with? That's pretty shitty Becs. Whatever, I've got to go finish this paper. I love you." And then came the dial tone. It was the last time I would hear her voice in person. The attack of the Living Bomb had come only a few days after, and since most of us were ready to graduate they started sending us out to Manhattan and New York City to help in any way we could. I luckily wasn't drafted for that, something else I count my blessings for because no one came back from those trips.
I've been roaming for 67 days, trying to fight my way through this shit storm. The world as I had known it ended and it had only been two months. I never understood why humans had invented time, but I understood now. It was to stop us from going insane. My biological clock was fucked, and the only reason I knew how many days it had been was because of the watch Chloe had bought me for our anniversary. It was water proof, sweat proof, and it glowed in the dark. The best part though was that it was solar powered, so I never had to worry about it running out of juice. I didn't ever know what day of the week it was, but I knew how many days it had been and I knew that I could keep count thanks to her. I had to thank Chloe for a lot of things in my life. We had met in college and she had opened my eyes to so many new things. She had awakened things in me that I didn't know existed, and were long gone now.
I don't know when I had lost my sense of fucked up humanity. I'm pretty sure it was in basic where they worked us like dogs and treated us even worse. There were a few who made it bearable though, like Swanson. Jesse Swanson had turned out to be one of the greatest guys I had met. He was funny and understanding and didn't push boundaries like most guys I had known. He was laid back and really easy going, not the military type. We had grown really close over the few months we shared. He would show me pictures of his wife, Aubrey, and I would show him pictures of Chloe. We shared memories of our Georgia upbringing's and constantly wondered how we had snatched up two very amazing ladies. He was kind enough to keep my sexuality between the two of us, and he grew on me quickly. It was mistake number one. He was drafted to New York City, and what they brought back after a gruesome attack wasn't Jesse, just pieces of him. I hated everything in that moment, wondering how anyone could let that happen to such a sweet soul. I still don't know to this day if Aubrey ever found out. Things had gotten so out of control at that point that we were scattered everywhere. Being stationed in South Florida made it easy to keep in touch with our brothers and sisters in the waters, but they too stopped responding after a while. The group began to get smaller and smaller, we lost people on the daily.
I had tried for days to contact Chloe. I needed to get to her, I needed to know if she was alright. They wouldn't let me leave. They told me my responsibility was here, no matter where my heart was. I thought maybe she'd try to reach me, but I never heard from her. If she did reach out, they never told me. After the rest of camp had been dispersed I was on my own. I began walking up I-95 Northbound, finding it to be the quickest and easiest route to Georgia. I had to find out if she was still alive. I had made the trip a few times when Chloe and I were dating. I would come up on my off weekends to see her and we'd spend the entire time wrapped up in each other, never leaving her dorm. She'd introduced me to a few of her friends, Stacie and Amy being the most memorable. It was the first time in my life that I had women who were actually my friends. Some weekends I'd go up and it would be all four of us doing crazy shit that young adults do. I haven't heard from Stacie or Amy either, and I hope every single day that they're okay. I've been walking for lord knows how long now. It's really only been about 5 days but my little legs are sore and tired and I still have to be careful where I go and where I stop. It's not fun sleeping in abandoned cars on the side of the road.
You know when you watch a zombie movie and they always all look really good and they think that people can actually be happy and care free in a time like that? It's not true. I haven't showered properly in days. My clothes need to be washed, I carry three sets of clothes and I sleep in them every night. I mostly leave room for food, weapons, and a first aid kit in my pack. I keep a hunting knife strapped to each leg, and a pistol in a holder on each side of my hips. It's very 1950s Western movie-esque but I have to be prepared. I keep a sheathed machete on my backpack, and of course all the extra bullets I can carry and find. Whatever fits in my cargo pants comes with me. My socks haven't been changed in who knows how long. It's times like these where I'm sweaty and smell gross and for a split second I thank god Chloe can't see me. Then I feel guilty, I get sad, and I want to sleep until I meet her again in my dreams.
The walking is the worst part. I can honestly say I've never been this tan before though. I try to keep my body parts covered, wearing a long sleeve white shirt which helps protect from the sun and the nasty bugs that come with the humid atmosphere. It's not my favorite color and it draws some attention to me but it'll have to do. I've lost count of how many people I've had to kill, and when I'm walking all day like I have been, it's hard to escape my own thoughts. At least when I was at camp there were plenty of us to talk to and hang out with and protect each other. Out here I am literally walking bait, so every step I take has to be calculated and precise. I've tried a few cars that weren't completely trashed but the thought of making more noise than necessary kills me. I would almost rather walk in silence than have the luxury of a car and then have to deal with all the "people" it attracts. I've never minded the silence really; what's hard is experiencing a person who makes you never want to be alone again, only to be slammed back into solitude. That's what it was like to be in love with Chloe Beale.