Can you See me up here, in the Trees?

Chapter 1

After the apocalypse broke out, you had to learn things quickly. Kill or be killed. You learned within the first month that traveling in a group was always messy, heartbreaking, and not worth it. You learned quickly how to ration food, water, medicine, anything that was essential. But you learned the hard way how essential.

You had been running in the woods, away from walkers, when raiders hit you. They stole everything you had and left you to die. You had managed to survive by climbing up a tree, hiding there all night, not sleeping until you saw the sunlight. You had thought to yourself, that this was it, this was your end. You had no reason to be alive anymore, no one left in your group, no supplies, and winter was just around the corner.

You remember that sunrise every day you wake up alive. You remember that as it brought light into the sky, you realized that it was a blessing. You had looked around your surroundings to see you were in a forest, a perfect way to hide from raiders and walkers. That day, you stayed in the tree looking at all the trees that were connected to it. It was the perfect cover, you could stay up here and when someone looked up, no one would see you.

You remembered how the neighbor children had had a treehouse, how big you could make one, how safe they could be. That night, as you watched the sun set, stomach growling from hunger and walkers down below, following the scent of the raiders, you vowed to make yourself a home.

You spent the next few days, creating a path between three trees. You collected any spare branch you could find and weaved them like you had been taught in elementary school. You had grown up in New Mexico, but when the apocalypse hit, you and the group had headed east.

"East is better." Your leader had said, filling up the car with as many supplies as you could gather. You helped them out, making sure everything was good before getting into the car and leaving New Mexico behind.

In New Mexico, you had learned how to basket weave, and weave in general, so you were a great asset to the group. You could weave clothes and blankets as long as you had the material.

Your group had made it to as far as Georgia when everything went south. You had run out of gas, supplies, and patience with each other. Your leader wanted to go north, claiming he had heard of some sort of safe area. But some wanted to go south, to Florida, where it was warm all year round and no need for winter clothing.

Before the group could settle on a plan, you had been attacked by walkers. You had tried to save who you could, using a baseball bat for a weapon, but it did little to no good. The leader had grabbed you, the packs off the other and high tailed it out of there.

By the end of the first week you had woven enough to build the base of your home. To you, that was the easy part. Building across tree limbs was easier than building up a tree limb. You had managed to scrape some food from birds nests and insects, but you knew you needed food soon.

Once you knew the coast was clear you climbed down and looked around for any possible food. You hated scavenging like this, but you had no other choice. You had gotten lucky, a small cabin was nestled a mile away from you home and it held items that you needed.

You grabbed everything you could, before heading back to your home. Once you were safe up in the trees you heard them, walkers. You peered down through some squares you had set up on the floor and saw them milling about your area. By now you had figured out that they could hunt by smell and hearing. You knew you had made noise, but you had no idea just how much.

You stayed quiet till they had left before you opened the bag you had grabbed from the house. You took out a multigrain bar, eating slowly so you wouldn't gorge yourself, before taking small sips of water. You had cleaned the cabin out of food, or what was left. It was clear the cabin had been raided before, but you grabbed what you needed.

The next morning you pulled out the hammer and saw you had gotten from the cabin and began work. You knew winter was just around the corner, you could feel it when the sun would set, a slight degree drop was your first hint. Even the dessert had winter, and you knew the signs.

By the time that the trees around you began to change color, you had built your home. Or one part of it. Building shelter before winter was the most important thing for you, something to shield you. What you were most proud of was the clay fireplace you had made. It wasn't professional, but it would do for the winter till you could improve it.

You had found an old journal in the cabin, at least five or more, even more when you had dug around. You kept the clean ones for your own use, the others for kindling. You had also found a broom, which you would use when the first snow hit, to keep your pathways cleared.

But as it turned to shorter days and longer nights, you knew you had to find some sort of bedding. Warmer clothes also. Once again, you were lucky. You had heard screaming coming down below, but by the time you had made it over, it was already too late for the individuals.

Had you been able to cry, you would have. It was a couple, clearly unprepared for the forest. You looked away as the walkers had their feast and back when you heard them leaving. You had a short time frame before they also turned into walkers. So once you knew the coast was clear, you climbed down and searched their bodies.

You grabbed their packs, their shoes and clothes, leaving them in their underwear, before hesitating. They both wore a simple ring, showing their love and commitment to one another. You knew you could trade those, and her necklace, for rations and food, but was it worth losing some of your humanity. Before you could decide you heard the grunt and dragging of feet. You grabbed the jewelry in a rush before hurrying back up your tree to safety. You tried to ignore the sounds of the walkers eating, but it was hard. You held their matching rings in your hand, trying to reason with yourself, but in the end you broke down into quiet sobs.

You watched the next morning as their mangled corpses reanimated themselves and wandered off before you looked into their packs.

You were grateful for the warm blankets that they had, the rations that they had, hell even the extra clothes they had packed, but you were most grateful for the pair of snow boots the male had been carrying. They were a size too big, but you couldn't complain in the apocalypse. You catalogued all your food, what you had gotten, and prepared as best you could for the winter.