CHAPTER 1
John kicked a glass bottle across the ground and watched with certain amount of satisfaction as it clattered over the edge of the roof and hurtled towards the ground. The bottle hit an abandoned car six stories below, popping against the rusted hood.
The older man shouldered his rifle and sighed, gazing out across empty building after empty building. He was sick of this town. He much preferred the backcountry roads and woods to these derelict cities. Out there, things seemed normal. But in here, he couldn't miss the reminders. Bodies littered the street. Cars were strewn about. Black biohazard bags were stacked on street corners, eternally waiting to be burned by soldiers that would never light the match.
He didn't like admitting it, but the ghost towns creeped him out. He only agreed to come into the city to help Greg find some food. Living off the land was hard work, especially when the infected were taking such a toll on game in the wilderness. Any spare cans of food they could scrounge were blessings for them. Still, he was getting antsy and he didn't want to spend any more time here than he absolutely had to. John slung his rifle over his back and descended the fire escape. His boots hit the ground with a soft thud and he stopped for a moment to listen for his friend.
"Greg," he called out. "Man, let's get going. It's getting dark."
No response. John clenched his jaw. He really hated when that guy wandered off without telling him. He peered through the grimy window of the store his friend was checking out earlier. Perhaps he was still in there. The rough, dirty man readied his weapon and stepped into the dusty department store. His boots creaked against the rotting wood floor.
"Greg, dude. You in here?"
A bird flapped out of the rafters, causing the sunlight pouring through the holes of the damp ceiling to flicker. The light hit a small, metallic object, which briefly reflected into John's field of view. John peered through the darkness to make out the source of the glint. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out wristwatch. Greg's watch.
John stared at the watch, trying to comprehend the situation. His eyes darted back and forth nervously, surveying the vacant room. He took a single step forward, his boot making a dull clunk on the wooden floor. Pausing after the first step, he listened for any movement. After several tense seconds he heard nothing. Breaking into a sweat, he swallowed nervously then spoke in a raspy whisper.
"Greg? Greg you there?"
There was still no response. His heart racing, John gripped his rifle even tighter. He took four more cautious steps into the room. He crouched down to the watch to examine it. Small specks of blood were spattered against the cracked face. John's head snapped up as he heard a quiet hissing from the shadows to his left.
"Oh shit" John whispered to himself. "Oh fuck no!" He yelled rising to his feet.
A shrill screech unlike any sound a man or animal could produce sent shivers through John's entire body. He stumbled backwards, tripping into an overturned chair. He hit the ground hard but didn't stop moving. Scrambling back up, he bolted out into the street, looking for any shelter. He spotted a heavy metal door across the street. When he reached the door, he kicked it as hard as possible. The door swung open with a loud bang, and John was on the other side in a moment. He could hear rapid panting and the soft slapping of bare feet against pavement behind him. He slammed the door shut and shoved a desk in front it.
"I am not dying today."
He backed up against the wall and tried to control his ragged breath.
A window smashed behind him.
A single gunshot echoed through the desolate overgrown city.
"Joel?" Ellie uttered nervously.
"It was far off, we don't have to worry yet." Joel responded, scratching his beard. "Come on, we don't have much farther to go." He turned from the edge of the rooftop and walked past Ellie.
She slung her pack over her shoulders and jogged up to Joel's side. She glanced at him as they trekked through the alleyway, studying his face. He was always so… closed off. It bothered her. She tried to break the silence.
"Hey, what was this place like before?"
Joel forced air through his nose, obviously annoyed. "Ellie, how many times are you going to ask me about the past?"
The young girl shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I ask because you never tell me much." She adopted an overly deep voice—her best Joel impression. "It was a different time, Ellie. I don't like to dwell on the past, neither should you."
Joel opened his mouth to make some comment about how in the past children were never as rude, but as he turned to her, a second gunshot rang out. It sounded much, much closer.
Joel grabbed Ellie by the arm as gently as possible and guided her to the edge of the wall leading out into the street. He leaned out to survey the street, keeping as much of his body concealed as possible.
"What do you see, Joel?"
"Nothing, I think the coast is cle—"
A man burst out of a shop onto the street. His face was one of complete shock and trauma. He looked back for a second before full on sprinting towards Joel and Ellie. He was unaware of their presence. It appeared as if he was just trying to get as far away from the street as possible. Joel knew exactly what caused that kind of desperation in men.
His suspicions were confirmed when the all-too-familiar screech of the infected rang out. Two runners exited the same building, crashing out onto the street. They whipped their heads around in quick, jerky movements before spotting the terrified man. They took off running towards him with single-minded focus. They would catch up to the man in a matter of seconds. Ellie tugged on Joel's sleeve. There was a look of innocence mixed with worry in her eyes that pained Joel.
"Hey, aren't you going to help him?"