In The Flesh

The Beginning

I remember the days when everything was perfect. My four siblings and I played outside together while my parents cooked dinner. The smells of food drew us closer to the house and we wandered into the kitchen, asking for a taste of the meal they were cooking. They would give us each a small bite and we would all run back outside and continued playing our make-believe games. I remember how easy it was to pretend. To this day, pretending isn't easy. I try to block the horror out, in my cocoon of an old broken down train. The horror always seems to seep in through the cracks that I tried patching up.

The train is my home now. It's not much, but it's barricaded pretty well. I have chain holding the handles together. When this all started, just as the Weepers started to take people's lives, my family were weak. We didn't have supplies, no training. They died; all of them. In one day. I watched my family die right in front of me. It happened all at once, as if I just blinked and they were gone. We opened the front door. We were all going out to eat for breakfast, we had all just woken up and we didn't want to go. My parents opened the door and then all of the Weepers came in and killed my entire family right in front of me. I had ran into the kitchen and grabbed a large knife. They all came after me. I was terrified, but I pushed through anyway and sliced the stomach of one. I realized this didn't do a thing. I fell backwards, and one fell on top of me. The knife pierced through it's forehead. Thick blood oozed down the sharp blade, and onto my shaking hands. I remember sobbing as I stabbed the knife into the heads of all the other ones, and securing the doors. I don't know how I managed to keep it together. My whole family just died, and I killed my first Weepers.

After I sobbed for what seemed like hours, I packed a bag. I grabbed canned foods, some candy bars, apples, a large pack of water bottles from the basement, blankets, clothes, some medicine and a picture of my family that I tucked securely in the pocket of my black jeans. Tears streamed down my face as I ran from my house, slicing Weeper's heads open with haste along my way. I had no idea where I was going, but I wanted to get away. My family was gone, and these things were all over the place. I had to leave. After I had unpredictably gotten halfway to the train, I had collapsed to my knees and just sobbed. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it together for long. I lied there, and surprisingly the Weepers were no where to be found, so I had a moment to myself to let my emotion run freely. I wanted my family so desperately. They were the only thing I've ever known. I'd never been on my own before and I wasn't ready to be. I knew I had to be ready for anything if I wanted to survive, but this was a big step.

After a couple more minutes of mourning, I decided to get on my feet and keep moving. I didn't run this time so I didn't waste as much energy, or have to drink more water to keep myself hydrated. I had finally gotten to the train. It was, and still is, out in the middle of nowhere on a large hill. I had no idea how it had gotten all the way up here, but I wasn't about to question what could turn out to be shelter. I went inside and jumped. Three Weepers came at me. I sliced their heads with shaky arms, and dragged their bodies a little ways away from my new shelter. I cleaned out the rest of the train and set my backpack on the floor, resting against the wall. The glass on the windows were cracked, but not completely broken, so I left it be.

I took my blanket out of my backpack and placed it on the floor right next to a wall. I've always felt safe with my back against a wall when I sleep. I don't really understand why, but that's just me, I guess. I sat on top of the blanket. Everything is happening too fast. I put my head in my hands while tears streamed down my pale cheeks. My life wasn't supposed to turn out this way. Just as quickly as I started to cry, the crying stopped and sadness turned into anger. I grabbed the blanket from underneath me and squeezed it tight, my nostrils flared, and my lips pressed together in a tight line. I want them back. I punched the floor and immediately regret it. Pain shot through my knuckles. I looked at my hand to see it bleeding. I cursed under my breath, like I always did back home. If my parents heard me, though, I'd be in a great deal of trouble. I always heard my siblings swear, so it eventually caught on. I wiped the back of my hand on my jeans, that were already covered in blood from the Weepers and sighed.