Caged (Troy Otto x OC)

Chapter 1

Three days.

Three days was all it took for the world to go to absolute shit. Full collapse of a modern civilization.

Only three days.

On the first day we heard of the first case of this virus. A virus that turned the living into the dead. A man was found eating the intestines of his small child and wife in Washington D.C. He was shot on site. He didn't go down with the first shot to the shoulder. Or the second shot to the heart. He managed to bite two police officers before receiving a final shot to the head.

On day two every family packed their belongings into their car and fled the cities. They didn't make it far of course. All the streets were clogged with cars, traffic unmoving. Most people gave up and decided to move out on foot.

By day three everything burned. Businesses were overrun. Grocery stores picked apart. People stocked up on everything they could: water, food, guns. Cars stolen. People murdered. Good people turned to murderers. The dead walked.

This was over 10 months ago of course. Since then, the way things are now, have become more normal. You have to scavenge for meals, can never truly fall asleep and are constantly killing walkers. This is the world as we know it.

My name is Davina Kozlova.

I am from a little latin neighborhood in San Bernardino, California. I know what you are thinking. Kozlova? My father was from eastern Europe. Bulgaria. My mother is Brazilian. They both immigrated to the United States when they were young, both growing up in small towns in New Mexico. They met while my father was in college in Albuquerque prior to him joining the Marine corps. They got married, had me, then moved to San Bernardino when my father got a job opportunity training new recruits. I was only 6 when we moved, so I don't remember much from before.

I got the majority of my mother's features. The same dark brown hair that cascaded in waves down to the small of my back. The full lips and the high cheek bones. My small stature. I stand at only 5 foot 3 inches, but can take down a man twice my size. The only thing I inherited from my father were his striking emerald green eyes. My skin tone is also not as dark as my mother's. I look sun-kissed and I get a great tan in the summer, but nothing compared to my mother's golden brown skin year-round.

I was in the middle of my Senior year of college at UCLA when the world ended. I got a call from my father in the middle of my clinical rotation for Nursing school, saying I needed to pack as much as I could and return home. My clinicals ended, I drove back to my apartment, unsure about my father's demands. He did have a general paranoia that the world was going to end, and well, I guess he was right. That paranoia did serve us well when it came to his weapons collection and ammunition reserves. When I got there, it seemed as if my roommates had already taken the majority of their stuff and ran for the hills. I grabbed only my most important things, some comfortable clothes and some non perishable food, per my dad's request. I packed my things in my car and drove home. What is normally an hour and 15 minute drive turned out to be a nearly 4 hour drive with all of the traffic on the road. When I arrived home, I was greeted by a stoic father and a sobbing mother. I hadn't seen the news.

For the first 4 months after the world ended, my family and I attempted to ride it out at home in San Bernardino. Until my mother was killed by a walker. We were out on a food run for the sweet elderly couple that lived in the house next door to us when my mother was bitten. My father had to put her down before she turned. He couldn't stand to see her as a walker.

One day, not long after that, the elderly couple stopped answering the door. We had to assume the worst. It was likely one of them had died in their sleep, turned, and killed the other. Such a sad demise, but at least they were together.

There was nothing left for us here, so we set out for Tucson, Arizona first. We had some friends in Tucson. If there was nothing left of Tucson, we were to head to Albuquerque to find some of our relatives.

After two and a half months my father and I made it to Tucson. Everyone who told us along the way that there was nothing left there was correct. The entire city had been burned to the ground. None of our friends were left, but we had hope that they also migrated to Albuquerque in hopes of finding family and safety.

My father and I traveled along the border between Arizona and Mexico until we were separated by a herd of walkers. I ended up making it to Albuquerque alone by month 8. Everything was burned there as well. I stayed on the outskirts of the city for a month in hopes of finding my father again before I decided to back track along the border heading west toward San Diego. I always did love the ocean.