The creature wandered aimlessly, stumbling through the trees around it. The thing's coordination was lacking but their determination was strong. There was no destination in mind, no determined point at which it would stop. Instead it walked, stumbled, and tripped it's way through the dense forest. It's eyes did not see their surroundings, it's barefeet did not feel the sharp stabs of fallen twigs, and it's arms did not move to push the branches from their face. What drove this thing was not love or anger, not pain or fear, but instead hunger. Until it came across what it searched for, this creature would wander until the end of time.
This was something the young woman knew. She could hear it near her, it's moans echoing around her. Inside she was screaming, crying for someone to finally help her. Some fight still lingered in her worn body but there was no strength to get her on her feet. Her throat burned, scorching with each breath passing between her chapped lips. How long had it been since she last had a drink? Two, three days? Even longer since she ate. She glanced down at her withered body. To think in only a month she had dropped the majority of her weight, leaving her only skin and bone.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she glanced to the dead man to her right. If anything, she knew she could die happy knowing the monster of a man beside her was dead. His eyes stared back at her, lifeless and dull, as his body decomposed. The smell had had her gagging at first, throwing up stomach acid as she had not eaten in days. Now, it blended into the world around her. Either she had grown accustomed to it or her senses were so dulled it didn't register anymore.
Fear tingled it's way from the tips of her fingers, up her arms, and to the back of her neck as the thing came into view. A man stood before her, dressed in a suit as if heading to work, and began shuffling towards her. By the looks it had been dead for some time now. Blood coated his mouth and neck, the skin peeled back on his cheeks and lips to reveal black teeth. What always shook the girl was their eyes. Their eyes always looked the same. The colors were gone, leaving behind a milky haze that saw nothing before them. They were lifeless. Empty. Dead.
As she watched the creature kneel before her, she felt a sudden closeness to the dead thing. After everything that had happened to her, she did not differ so much from it. Indeed she was hollow inside. A broken, scratched, and ruined human. She was shattered and left without being able to pick up the pieces. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad. In death she could finally be free of this world, of the Hell she was walking in. There would be no more pain. No more struggles. No more evil. Because evil didn't live in Hell, it didn't live in the dead. It lived in man.
Slowly she shut her eyes as the thing leaned over her. Dying would be painful. But at least then it would be over. It's bony fingers dug into the fabric of her jeans, pulling at the loose material. She sighed in content as she fell into unconciousness.
It is done...
~
The man stalked through the forest, memorizing each and every branch he passed. All the divets, marks, and pockets etched itself into his brain. His eyes scanned his surroundings. It had been quiet all day. No walkers in the area. Unfortunately, no game either. Earlier he had been tracking a deer in hopes of bringing it back to camp. He lost it's trail a few hours prior. By the angle of the sun he knew night would fall soon. He'd have to camp out again. Even he knew the risks of traveling through the dark. A scowl crossed his lips as he lowered his crossbow. Another useless trip. Another day, two at the end of it, wasted for nothing more than a half dozen squirrels. Not even close enough to properly feed the entire group.
To Hell with 'em, he thought bitterly. Bunch of useless ass city pricks. And he knew that to be true. After staying there for almost a month now, he knew the group wouldn't last. Only a matter of time now. No structure. No leader. No one willing to do a damn thing other than hide at the quarry and hope help came. Even the thought made him laugh to himself.
A series of twigs snapping caused him to stop and raise his weapon. Things had been quiet all day and some dead poxy bastard is going to ruin it for him. For him it was quite simple to tell a walker from a human. The two were very different. A human could be quiet. Could try and use stealth to their advantage. Their steps were precise and thoughtout. A walker was the exact opposite. Sorry bastards stumbled around like Friday night drunks. Only the deaf couldn't hear them, and even then the group missed them all until they were literally stumbling into the camp.
The man slipped between the dense trees and into the a small clearing. The sight before him caused him to waver in his resolve and a lump to form in his throat. In the middle of the clearing lay two individuals, a male and a female. The man was older than the woman, maybe around the hunter's age. He wore old army fatigues that were barely recognizable. His face was turned away from the hunters but the knife wound to the side of his head was visible. The woman, on the other hand, was the opposite. She looked just as worn and battered as the man but smaller, much too small for even her tiny frame. Lining her arms were a varying arrays of cuts and bruises. The knife marks were precise and deliberate. The bruises, even from this distance, resembled hand marks.
And lumbering over her was the walker he had heard. It began gripping at her pants, lowering it's stained teeth towards her stomach. The hunter raised his crossbow and fired the bolt through the thing's eye. It collapsed instantly onto the female and the hunter headed over. He grabbed the walker by the collar and tossed it off of her.
The woman was withering away, even under her baggy clothes it was obvious. Her arms were too thin, her collarbones too sharp, and cheeks too hollow. Any other distinguishable feature to the woman was impossible to see. Layers of blood and grime coated her skin but he could tell she was young, no older than twenty.
A groan escaped his lips as he observed the state of the camp. Trash littered the area, no tents were set up, and two small backpacks were the only supplies. Even without witnessing what happened, he knew all too well. His stomach twisted as he glanced back at the girl then over to the man, rage bubbling up inside him. He too had witnessed the same maltreatment from another, he bore the scars just like she had. The only difference was he was alive. She didn't get the chance.
Then he saw it. Her chest was barely rising but when he leaned in closer he knew she was alive.
Well shit...
