Rotting World, Blossoming Love I ONC 2021

Chapter 2

"Hey, Jessica. Where do you need me?" I ask the moment I reach her.

"You can help them pack the provisions while we take care of this mess," Jessica says, pointing at our stash of weapons.

Everyone wants to carry some weaponry as they fear for their safety. Yet, someone has to help with the food and water as they are as important or even more so if you ask me.

I am usually the first one to volunteer for that since weapons make me feel very uncomfortable. The power that they have over who lives and who dies terrifies me. What is even more horrifying is that I would get to decide who lives and who dies.

Even though I know that the zombies aren't human, not anymore, killing them is something I haven't been able to come to terms with yet.

As you might have guessed from my nickname, I am more of a poet than a fighter.

We dismantle the encampment rather quickly and are ready to move out. It is over before I am fully prepared to say goodbye to the secluded place we called home for the last few weeks.

"Come on, let's move!" Jason yells, snapping me out of my melancholy.

The few privileged people get to ride in the two cars we have left. However, most of us just walk as fast as we can since running would exhaust us too soon, leaving us defenseless in case of an attack. It's something we have learned the hard way.

"Professor?" I hear an unfamiliar voice call out to me.

"Yes," I turn around to see Nathan walking closer to me than I expected.

"I am sorry, I didn't get your real name," he says.

"Marissa," I say.

"That's a lovely name. Why does everyone call you Professor, then?" He asks, confused.

"I went to medical school for a while. Then I realized it wasn't for me, dropped out and started studying literature," I explain.

It's interesting that before the zombie virus took over the world, I would have never shared this much with a complete stranger. However, now it doesn't seem to matter. There are far worse things in the world than strangers these days.

"So, you are a literature professor?" He asks.

"Yes, I was. It's a pretty useless thing to be in the time of the apocalypse, isn't it?" I ask.

I've heard people say it so frequently that I am sure he will immediately agree with my statement. He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. I start to wonder why he isn't as ready to dismiss me as everyone else seems to be.

"I don't think so. Literature teaches us a lot about life and what it means to truly be alive. But more importantly, it teaches us what it means to be human. I think that's something we all need right about now." Nathan says.

"What do you mean?" I ask, never breaking my quick pace as I try to figure this guy out.

"Well, it's easy for us to just go around killing zombies, surviving. Yet, that can't be all there is to life now. It shouldn't be.

"I think people like you can teach us to appreciate the things that we do have in the time where it feels we have so little," Nathan says.

My jaw pops wide open at his words. Most of the survivors have mocked me. They thought less of me because of my lack of fighting ability, and here he is thinking of me as someone important.

Before I can thank him for his kindness, we get interrupted by the sounds I most despise, the sounds of growling and shuffling. The zombies are coming.

The road we have taken is a scarcely traveled dirt road surrounded on both sides by a forest. There shouldn't be any zombies here. Yet there are dozens of them.

Nathan hurries to join the other defenders, raising the gun I didn't even notice he had.

Then all hell breaks loose.

Deafening sounds of weapons being fired reverberate through my ears as I try to cover them, to get away from the disturbing noise. Try as I might, I can't stop them from resounding through my whole body, settling like heavy rocks at the bottom of my stomach.

We, the non-fighters, are now surrounded by our fighters and should be safe. However, I know that the line can be broken, and a zombie can come through. We could all die the most horrible deaths imaginable before we even realize what's happening.

I try not to look at the approaching zombies, but their blood-stained faces and feral eyes draw my eyes. I have no control of where I am looking, what gruesome sight I am engraving in my mind for eternity.

My hands tremble furiously, and my teeth are chattering like crazy while I just stand there watching bloody flowers blossom on the zombies' foreheads.

A scream pierces the air, and I know that one of ours has been lost. Gone forever.

"Marissa! Marissa!" Jessica yells my name, shaking me urgently.

"We need to move," she says, pointing at our fighters.

They are backing away from the onslaught, and I know the rules. I know what we need to do, but I am not sure I can find the strength to go on.

We always travel in a circle with the fighters making the outer rim. If they find it difficult to protect the rear, we move forward since zombies seem to be more about the territory than they are about fresh meat these days.

The only time we stop moving is if we are surrounded on all sides, which hasn't happened yet.

"Yes," I say weakly and allow her to drag me with her.

After all, I don't want to become a zombie snack even if I am exhausted by the life we lead.

Dark red seems to be the only color that exists in this bleak world. It makes me feel queasy, and I wonder if I am going to throw up once again.

"I know you can't stand the sight of blood. You just need to hold on for a few more meters, then we'll be out of the zombies' new migration route," Jessica says.

I try to do as she says though my mind is hazier than ever. I can't figure out what she was telling me. I thought we were nowhere near their migration patterns. Still, there they were, chewing on what must be Derek, with a savagery that makes bile rise in my throat.

"Okay, a few more steps," Jessica says encouragingly.

The moment she lets go, I know that we've reached the safety pocket as we've started calling it. That is also when I start throwing up violently, unable to control my gag reflexes anymore.

"Darn it, Professor! Can you at least try to be less useless?" Marc, who has been bugging me the most, says.

"Back off. The fact that we are used to guts being spilled doesn't mean everyone else has to be," Nathan says, magically appearing when I most need him.

To my surprise, the stubborn Marc, the same guy who listens to no one but himself, immediately backs off.

It makes me wonder what Nathan did to chase him away.

"Are you okay?" Nathan asks gently.

"I'm fine. I just can't stand the sight of blood," I admit, embarrassed.

"I guess that explains why you quit med school," Nathan says conversationally.

"Yep," I say.

"I admire you," Nathan suddenly says.

Stunned, I lift my head up to see if he is making fun of me. 

The honesty in his deep blue eyes reassures me, so I just give him a questioning look having no idea what he found admirable about me.