Part I | Loneliness

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Ash groaned as she rolled over, awaking from her deep slumber. Rays of sparse sunlight streamed through half closed blinds that hung from her windows. She stretched her arms and legs, then slowly got out of bed, wiping her eyes as she struggled to fully wake herself up. Her long blonde hair hung matted and full of knots to her sides as she stumbled out of her room.

"Mom!!" she called, then stopped as she remembered what had happened. The world had fallen into turmoil as an infection spread rapidly through cities, states, countries, then the world, reanimating the bodies after they had died.

She quickly ducked down, throwing her hands over her mouth as she recalled that the things were attracted to sound. She sat quietly as she listened to the world outside for a moment, hearing only the wind dance in the trees. Getting up again, she slowly walked downstairs, glancing at the boarded up windows and doors her father had fortified before he passed. The house was completely silent, stripped from the once lovely sounds of a normal family and happy pets bustling along. She had wished for peace and quiet, but now regretted the little things she took for granted.

Slowly stumbling into the kitchen, she opened the pantry door and searched for some sort of food. She reached her hand back for a box of crackers, but then sighed in disappointment as she opened it to find it empty.

"I guess I better go get some food." she said to herself. Her own voice was the only thing that kept her company and partially sane. She slowly trudged back up the stairs to get dressed and prepared to go out.

After searching through drawers of partially cleaned clothes, she settled for a black t-shirt with "Fall Out Boy" printed on the front, an oversized shirt she had relished since she was 13, and a pair of old jeans, holes slowly wearing into the knees. She pulled on a pair of black combat boots and an oversized, thick coat that would mostly protect her from light bites from the dead. Strapping her hair into a ponytail best she could manage, she reached into her closet for her pistol and machete. It was better to kill with something quiet than to attract more.

Strapping her gun to her side, she grabbed her old backpack and slung it on, slowly creaking open the back door as she began her journey out.

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