Turns out it wasn't such a great day. I was running on fumes as I drove through the town center, trying to navigate my way through the charred wasteland before me when I came across a strange man waving me down in the middle of the street. I slowed down as I approached him, coming to a full stop just inches from his legs. I rolled down my window and greeted him with a friendly smile.
Everything seemed fine until he pulled the shotgun strapped to his back around and aimed it at my head;
"GET THE FUCK OUT AND I WON'T KILL YOU,"
I panicked for a moment, tempted to ram my foot down on the gas and run him down before I came to the realization that no one was going anywhere in this car, not without gas. I hid the 9mm in my wasteland and raised my hands in the air. I slowly opened the door and got out of the car.
The man shoved me to the ground as he ran into the car. His foot slammed on the gas and he was off, like dust in the howling wind. I'm just glad he didn't kill me.
One thing's for sure, if I ever see him again I'll kill him, without any hesitation. I've been a pushover my entire life, taking orders from whoever gave them and submitting to anything that came my way. I won't be, I refuse to be. This is a brave new world, and I'm a brave new girl.
The dead, in all their pale, flaky skinned glory staggered their way toward me. The battle of survival never takes a break. I had to move, and fast. I haven't eaten since the day I killed JC and opportunities to sleep seemed few and far between.
This place is a wasteland. Some buildings still stand tall, blackened by smoke, while others collapsed and charred by raging fires that blew through here some time ago. There were bodies scattered everywhere, burnt to a crisp. Some of them were fused into the ground, others still alive and crawling across the road, forced to spend a lifetime in a crippled state of eternal hunger.
I managed to run far enough away to where the streets stood bleak and quiet. Not so much promise left in the promise land. Every store along the way had shattered windows and an empty inventory. I managed to gather a roll of Tums and a package of gum. What a healthy dinner I'd be having. Hey, at least I get my Calcium intake. My bones have to be strong, after all.
I spent the remainder of the day walking the streets desperately searching for any signs of life, but all I could find was death. You couldn't go anywhere without running into at least one of the infected.
Nightfall was quickly behind me when I arrived to an area, labelled by a cardboard sign as "The Dead Zone". Debris laid scattered across the streets and buildings sat toppled over. In the street ahead was a downed fighter jet. It didn't take long before I put two and two together. This place was bombed to shit, probably in hopes of stopping the spread of infection.
There was no time to turn back, it'd be at least a miles walk back before I reached any in-tact buildings and I could see the sun setting over the horizon. I popped a tums in my mouth, savouring the chalky taste as I walked toward a blue dumpster.
Months old garbage smelt like paradise compared to the stench of the undead. I hesitated for a second before climbing up into the dumpster. The two infected heading toward me was enough to give me that final push. I couldn't fire off a gun, not at this time of the day. I'd have nowhere to run.
It's somewhat comfortable in this stuffy dumpster. Sure, it's dark and the ringing from the dead banging on the metal wasn't helping but at the least I feel safe in here. Safety is serenity, after all.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a Survivor
General FictionIt was as if no time had passed since the beginning of the end. The decayed ruled the earth, their souls roaming aimlessly through the desolate ruins of a place we once called our home. They're doomed to a life of eternal hunger, unsatisfied by the...
