Gathering herself, the ratty backpack and her rusty old weapon Beth staggered along in the direction of the footprints in the soft ground. The rain that must have just passed before she woke had made the ground perfect for imprints to be left behind. She wasn't fast by any means but she tried her best to make good time, the sun would be setting soon and she was alone, poorly armed and in a dark forest. If she made it through the night unscathed she'd be the luckiest undead girl there ever was.
The footprints seemed less hurried by the time she had gotten deep into the woods. Maybe they were close by she thought. Searching around her for any sign of shelter or life she saw a large rocky opening at the bottom of a hill. Shelter, she breathed deeply. Hoping she was the only one who had this grand idea for safety from the night Beth hobbled over to the opening in the rock. Armed with her shovel and all the courage she could muster she peered into the dark abyss. It seemed safe enough and didn't look like there was anyone or anything was habituating this safe. With a sigh of relief Beth found the ground without poise and left out a more pained sound that came out a lot louder than she meant. This must be what it felt to be old she laughed to herself quietly.
After closing her eyes for what felt like a few minutes she was woken by rustling in the brushes beside her rocky fortress. The moon was high in the sky and illuminated the wooded area like it was out of a fairytale. This wasn't a fairytale, she wasn't in her bed at home and she wasn't 5 years old anymore. There was no savior in her story right now. It was all her and without a beat she rose to her feet. She had gained some sort of function in her left leg but her foot tingled and burned something awful. She was lucky, and she knew it. The fact that she could move at all wasn't lost on her.
Peering out onto the night she saw something, something slow and staggering like a drunk after a night out on the town. It was one of those walking dead guys, but it looked like a woman this time. Beth knew what she had to do if it got too close or caught her scent. Holding her breath Beth watched intently and surveyed the land just outside her rocky fortress. There was some more movement to the right and then the left. Shit, she was surrounded and up the preverbal creek without a paddle. She sat still a tried her best to breathe as stealthily as possible. The walkers stumbled passed her, all the while groaning and moaning and making Beth's skin crawl. For a brief moment she thought maybe she was one of them. Why else would they leave her be, twice now. She didn't want to over think it or start to panic. There wasn't time for that.
Feeling somewhat rested from her time in the cave as the sun began to rise in the sky Beth made her way through the forest. The air was feeling cool on her fair skin and it was a welcomed feeling from the previous day and the humidity that clung to her body like the wet blanket she had awoke in. Beth realized that finding the people who had thought she was dead wouldn't be as easy as she thought. They could be days away by now. She had no idea how long she was presumed dead. It could have been days. She could have been in a coma. It would make sense though, if she were in a coma after what she could only guess was a bullet to the head. Not many survive such a severe injury and live to talk about it. She was left in that mummy state and unharmed from walking corpses and wild animals. "Miracle", Beth thought. She was a breathing freakin' miracle.
Beth found herself dragging her wounded body throughout the forest until about midday when the pain of hunger reminded her that she was indeed, alive. Dehydrated and starving Beth knew she had to find sustenance. There was a small creek running through the forest but she couldn't risk drinking the water without properly filtering it. She wasn't exactly the most knowledgeable when it came to surviving off the land but this was life or death and somewhere in her, she knew exactly what to do.
With a swift rip to the sleeve of her t-shirt she was granted with a filter of sorts. The water could be filtered through the plastic water bottle and piece of fabric but would still need to be boiled. Where the hell was she to find a pot to boil water in? And fire? Shit.
Beth's head was pounding and she knew it was in part the lack of water and food. Digging through the dirty backpack she found the ladle. It wasn't plastic it was metal. Thank God, she thought, this would do for boiling the water clean enough to drink. Now, fire… fire… Digging again through the bag she found a piece of glass that looked like it belonged to a pair of bifocals. Hmm, this could work, just like using a magnifying glass to set fire to anthills. Not that Beth had ever been so cruel but somehow she remembered someone in her past life, maybe a brother who had shown her this trick. She'd without a doubt had turned up her nose to this gross use of power but thank goodness for little boys and their love of destruction. It was going to save her life and give her fire. Gathering sticks and kindling for her makeshift water purification system Beth heard the all to familiar sound of a walker in the distance. This time she wasn't as lucky. She had to use the shovel to bash the poor bastard in the head. No easy feat using only one arm without enough fuel in her body to barely stand straight. Beth brought the shovel down after the walker fell to the ground with a groan and grunt. Right through the cranium with the tip of the rusted shovel, dark syrupy blood poured over the forest floor. With a slight gag Beth recoiled back and sighed. She didn't want to kill anyone or anything, ever. Running on adrenaline and shear luck Beth returned to her small pile of sticks to begin lighting the fire.
After two ladles full of water Beth felt relieved and ready to find something to eat. But what? She had no fishing line and doubted many fish would be in this creek, let alone big enough to eat. Thinking maybe she'd get lucky sorting through the backpack once more Beth dug her right hand in the bag. Not finding much that would help her procure a snack. A couple of safety pins, two pieces of sealed gauze (making a mental note to place these on her open wounds), some other random first aid supplies and a small knife barely worthy of witling a twig. The knife would have to do for now. Maybe she could find a squirrel or rat. "Ugh" she said out loud at the thought of eating a rodent. Beggars can't be choosers, she thought.
After about an hour of trying to stab a tiny mouse Beth thought it better to stop and figure out another plan. It was almost mid afternoon and she wasn't much further from her rock shelter the night before. Grabbing another ladle full of luke-warm creek water Beth sat, not thinking or moving. Feeling detached from everything around her. This wasn't a time to slip into a depression or feel melancholy for an old life she wasn't even sure she had.
Putting out her small fire with a few weak kicks of her right foot Beth decided to move on and hope for the best. Maybe getting rid of a fire this late in the day was a bad idea but she couldn't sit there all night and risk being seen. She needed shelter and a place to rest. Her head wounds were too serious to ignore but she had no choice at this point. It didn't look like any hospitals were taking patients back in Atlanta.
Beth made it about half a mile down the creek when she came across an old hunter shack. It didn't look like much and hopefully it had been abandoned and not picked clean of supplies. Beth raised the shovel like she was about to use it as leverage to leap over the high jump at the Olympics. Beth knocked on the door; it was the polite thing to do even if this harsh new world didn't call for pleasantries anymore. No one came to the door and Beth pressed her ear to the door… nothing. No moans, no groans… she might have just hit the jackpot in the middle of some sort of apocalypse.