I eat crackers for a meal. Well, I eat anything I can scavenge from the apartments and gas stations. Another one, tossed in my mouth. I wasn't really a fan of them at first, but it's eat or be eaten I guess. Water was rare for me. It was usually energy drinks, bug juice, and soda.
Idiotically, I had ran down the bottled waters my first few months. I squirted some Coke in my mouth to help the food go down. "Mmm...I gotta get out of here." I moaned. I did. Badly.
My food supply was severely low. I had already run out of water. It was only a mater of time before I became one of them. And my .22 was down to it's last bullets. My bow and arrows were wearing out. It was only of a mater of time. I laid my head on the table."Please shoot me with lightning. Please."
Why did I stay there? That question I still asked myself. I have no where else. I didn't want the abandoned streets. I didn't want cold and hungry. I didn't want eating animal carcasses and developing a sweet taste for cannibalism. I didn't want lonely. I never wanted lonely. I was afraid of lonely. I was weak. Weak, physically and mentally. I'd never make it on the road, by a forest, filled with walkers. I would be prey. A big hunk of cheese to mice. That was why leaving was out.
I stood up. I left all of my reminiscing and thoughts and returned to my house. It was old and dark, yes. But it was home. I had been there for a year or so. Grey turned to black faster and faster. I was stuffed in my thin bed, being lead into a deep nightmare that may never end.
No one you can trust. No one.
A sharp pain wiped across my arm. I whined and realized it was my nails in my skin. How weak I am. Only specks of sunlight entered. The rest of the room was darkened. Short moans came from outside my window. Early walkers.
Softly, I pulled my blanket away. Believe me, If I didn't have to get up, I wouldn't. My bare feet hit the floor and sent a frigid sensation up my spine. I snapped back in bed, trying to warm my feet.
Of course my choice of house had to be like one. Maybe a rich person lived here before the infection. They did nothing to it, but fill it up with decorations. So, I "excavated" them all out a little. My skin finally touched the floor, this time prepared. With the gelid weather, It may have been December, but leaves were falling, so it couldn't be too late in the year. Maybe later November. I pulled myself fully out and changed clothes.
My stomach growled vehemently. There's my alarm clock. Most things in the house were futile, Which here means "useless to an apocalypse". Things like electronics, paintings, and potted plants had to go. I plodded down the stairs to the front door. My sneakers lied by the door.
I slid them on, grabbed my survival backpack, and left. Out on the terrace lied 3 carcasses of walkers. One shot in the head. Another cut through the ear. The last was just bleeding a lot. I never shot them. Someone has been here.
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