Chapter 4: A Forgotten World
36 Days After the National Outbreak
Bella POV:
The sun beats down on my burned skin. I don't care anymore. Ignoring the discomfort, I continue my stride. The idea of walking to DC is a ridiculous one. Not only ridiculous, but completely freaking impossible, which is why I'm moving toward the city. There's bound to be a better selection of cars there. There's bound to be something. Fuck, I'd take anything. My desperation grows by the minute. Knowing my husband and toddler are awaiting my return absolutely shatters me. Although my journey so far hasn't really been long, I feel that I'm already losing hope. I can't very well hijack a plane and fly to DC. The only method available is driving… or walking if my string of bad luck continues.
Everytime I rev up a car engine, I attract trouble. I attract them: trouble of the very worst kind. At first, I was terrified when I had to face them. Of course, I managed to kill them and move on, but that didn't make the entire ordeal any less horrifying. Just picturing them in my mind now makes me want to throw up. I've moved from car to car on my journey to get across state lines and none of the vehicles have lasted very long. The ones that were promising, eventually ran out of fuel, forcing me to move onto another. I don't know how much of this I can take. Everything has turned to shit so quickly. I feel like I'm wading in deep, dark waters, trying desperately not to drown or get washed away.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I carry on, finding another abandoned car further up the road. The blisters on my feet have become so numb, they're barely noticeable. The aches, pains, and irritations that once plagued me are now in the very back of my mind. The only thought I entertain is the idea of survival. My survival and the survival of my family. Nothing else is important.
With my eyes on the prize ahead, I limp toward the car, pulling my crowbar out of my backpack along the way. One step closer, Bella. As I bust the back car door window out, I reflect on how jaded I already feel. It shouldn't be like this… should it? I've come so far but feel no different. Every day is the same; wake-up, search for food, move forward… always moving forward. Walking and walking but feeling as if I'm remaining stagnant. My body aches but my mind is still in the past - back home with the two people I love more than my life. That's why I'm doing this; they're why I'm doing this.
My little boy is in the forefront of my mind as I hotwire the car. His smile, his kind eyes, and his heartwarming remarks stay with me as I face the darkness. Just as the car roars to life, I hear them coming in the distance. There's a few of them; they sound hungry. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as my body shivers with agitation and despair. I should be numb to this by now. Killing shouldn't make a difference… but it does. Luckily, killing has gotten far easier. I don't cringe as I once did. Before, the thought of taking another life - even if the life was questionable - was abhorrent. Now… now all I care about is myself. Perhaps they could be saved, but I can't save them all on my own. I don't have the strength to safely lock them up like I did my son and husband. So, instead I fight back.
Swinging open the driver's side door, I grab my crowbar and slide out to stand on the street. This is the only way, Bella. Remember who you're doing this for. I think of Jake as I take my first swing. I hit it right in the face. Its eye gushes as the crowbar digs in, fluid running down his molting cheeks. The fluids mixed with blood splatter back into my face, but I don't have a moment to spare as another one of those things approaches me. Pulling the crowbar out of the first one's head, I take a deep breath, preparing myself before plunging it into the other's. It spasms and continues to reach for me; yanking the crowbar away from his head, ignoring the goo that trails along with it, I tighten my core and swing again, this time shattering it's skull. A small part of me feels guilty for this, but the rest of me is coursing with loads of adrenaline and doesn't give a shit. I need to get moving. I'll never make it to D.C. at this rate. With the crowbar lodged in it's skull, I let go and pull out my gun from my husband's holster, shooting them both down before retrieving my first weapon. I wipe the crowbar off on the grass, cleaning it the best I can before taking it back to the running car. Although I hate killing, I can't ignore the release it brings. For a few moments, I feel like I'm in control of my own destiny. I feel like the universe isn't in charge as I end the threatening lives around me. It's blissful in a strange way. Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you, Bella?
Ignoring my conscience, I turn the dial on the radio as I put the car in drive. Of course, it's only static, so as the car moves on down the road, I rifle through the previous owner's CD collection and smile as I find the Pixies. As Black Francis's voice fills the car, I feel my entire body relax. You can do this. You got this, Bells. Tears fill my eyes as I remember my father, who unfortunately - or now fortunately, I suppose - died a long time ago. He used to say that to me whenever I was afraid or found myself experiencing self-doubt. "You got this, Bells. You can do anything you set your mind to." I smile at the memory of him. A feeling of warmth washes over me as I see his smiling face so vividly in my mind. I remember the way his mustache would feel against my cheek when he hugged me; I remember the way he always made me feel safe.
I wipe my tears away, knowing I have to be strong. I don't have time to cry… not yet. Maybe one day, when everything is safe and the world is back to normal, I can sit back and cry over all that I've done. But that day is not today. That day is not even close. Part of me wonders if it will ever come.
A/N: I'm so glad you guys are liking this so far! I'm totally obsessed with this short story! Only 14 more chapters to go! See you tomorrow!
P.S. Please review! :)