Evan Walker

Not much of his family died at first. In fact, none of them did. The first wave came and went, but it didn't matter, they didn't really even need electricity. The second wave came for a visit, and it barely affected them. Just some broken China, but the structure of the house was built well, so it didn't collaspe.

The third wave was the one that really killed the Walker family.

His entire family got sick, even Lauren. They kept growing sicker and sicker, but they wanted to stay alive. His parents told Evan that they needed to make sure Eva was alright. They had too. But they knew what Evan knew, Eva wasn't coming back. Her plan crashed during the first wave. And even if she survived, she was all the way across the country. There was no way that she was coming back. She was dead, but his parents still clung onto that little string of hope that maybe she was alive and was coming.

Evan didn't know what to say anymore, he should feel happy that she was dead. That he didn't have to kill his own twin sister himself. But something clenched his heart. He didn't want Eva to die. He wanted her back, that bubbly, happy girl who was his twin sister.

But he knew deep down that she wasn't coming back.

Eva Walker

David died in cold, red blood.

I was there, I took care of him, I gave him water and clothes. He told me to leave, but I just... Couldn't. I couldn't bear myself to leave the young fifteen year old. I just couldn't.

He died on the third week, his coughs rattling the room, the smell of dried up blood and hopelessness filling up the room. I didn't the infection, The Red Death. I don't know why, but I never did.

David died because of me and the Red Death. I was kneeling by his bed, like how you do when someone's dying. Me and David never talked much, our conversations were stop abruptly when it came to a sensitive part of our story. It was mostly just full of coughs and silence.

"Eva." I remember him saying. His eyes were red, his clothes were red with blood that dripped down from his shirt. "Eva, thank you." His breath in gasps.

"David, there's nothing to thank me for." I choked out. The smell of something salty. The smell of vomit I just couldn't get out of the room. The world spinning.

Here in a room that once belonged to a young boy and his younger sister, is now in tatters and with the uncommon smell of vomit and blood filling it, it was stubborn that opening the tiny window wouldn't get rid of it. Here, in a room, held a young adult and a teenager, both of them strangers, but both of them friends. In the hardest moments, is when humans unite. It's cheesy, but true. At least for this it is.

"Eva, leave." He wheezed. "I don't want you to see me turn crazy." He whispered.

"David, it's alright. I'll stay for as long as your heart is still beating." He nodded slightly to that before he looked at me in the eye.

"Eva, I want to die." He whispered. My heart belated faster.

"David..." I whispered but then he shook his head.

"Eva, it's coming. Death is coming. It might already be here, waiting politely at the doorstep. Waiting to be let in." HE whispered and then he gave me a toothy grin. He needed braces. Not like he was ever going to get them. "I want to die with fresh clothes."

I left the room so that he could change. I cooked some water with their gas stove. I drank some tea to relax my bloodstream. But I knew, I seriously felt that something was wrong about this. Deja vu. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Then I heard it. I probably could've heard if I was regular, the shattering of glass. I ran. I ran so fast, I almost crashed into a wall. I kicked the door down, and it fell.

But I was too late.

I still blame myself for what happened. Maybe if I was just a little bit faster, than maybe he would've survived for a few more days. But instead, I saw David, a large shard of glass in his chest. His eyes wide open and his chest vibrating harshly.

"Eva." He whispered and I kneeled beside him. Glass intruded into my skin, but I didn't care.

"Your-" Tears streaked my face. "So stupid." I whispered to him and stroked his cheeks. Pale and blood covered.

"Take my bike." He wheezed. "Please."

He died right in front of me.

***Eight Weeks Later***

I didn't stop for anything, or anyone, after that. It wasn't about saving anyone, you can't get saved from this kind of thing. It was about getting back to my family.

Short, five minutes breaks. The smell of sweat dripping on my shirt. The sound of people screaming the The End is Here.

None of that mattered anymore, the only thing that mattered was getting back to my family. I broke the bike on the second week, I was going way too fast that the chain literally shattered off. I'm going on foot now, and I'm just past Ohmaha in Nebraska. Most people thought that I was an Other or something.

I was closing in on Indianapolis, ready to make another rest break. I barely took any more breaks, it was all about getting back home now. I only took three hour naps, at most, before sprinting off.

As I ran on the highway, something seemed off. Something, no, someone, seemed to watching me. I could feel it, I could feel their eyes on me as I stopped and listened to nature. Even though I never on this excat highway before, I could feel that this wasn't right. Feel that something bad was about to happen. Before my brain could even think, a knife was in my hand, and I was scanning the highway.

Then I heard it.

I could hear the bullet racking in the chamber, telling me right where the man was. Pinpointing his position.

I don't know who went first, if I threw my knife or if he shot the gun. Maybe it was at the same time, but I do know that I ran right as he shot that bullet. I know that he missed me by a few centimeters. And by me, I mean my brain.

And that my knife hit him.

I could hear him say oof. I could hear him falling.

I ran towards him and made sure to keep my arms up. I didn't have any weapons on me.

I came up to him and saw that my knife went into his head. Right in the forehead. A shot too good to be true. My breathing hitched as I looked at his face. Blood dripped onto his eyes, his perfectly normal grey eyes. He held a rifle and a couple other weapons with a ton of ammo.

My first kill in, well, my life-With a pocket knife used for self-defence.

***LOL***

I decided to upload more Fanfiction. When am I going to update? Whenever I feel like it.

Am I consistant? Probably not.

Are any of these things good? Nope.

Meh, it's probably going to be pretty often though.

Review. Favourite. Follow. Share. Eat Pizza.

Gummy Bears and Worms,

Emily