Berlin, September 16th
Luther fell ill yesterday night. He had the fever, chills and was throwing up.
We all knew what that meant. Some of us could not hide the despair. We heard some gunshots in the silence of the night, and found two bodies outside. Two of our men did not want to wait and see what would soon inevitably happen.
Nobody dared to touch them.
A soldier came bringing a gallon of gasoline.
We watched the bodies burn.
No one said a word.
Later that day, we spotted a dozen of zombies wandering nearby. They did not get close to the barricade.
"They are scouts," a young Dresdner said.
"Don't be ridiculous!" I shouted. "They don't know what they are doing. They are dead."
"If we have a soul ... then there is some kind of life after death," he insisted.
"Cut the crap! They're dead, and they're no scouts. And there is no soul. There is nothing. Can't you see?" I lost my temper. "Can't you see it?"
"Yes, I can see, Korporal. I see much clearer than you do."
I remembered the two bodies on fire in the dark night. How to find a reason to stay alive? How to keep believing in something? Please, God, tell me how!
YOU ARE READING
Notes from the End of the World
HorrorThe Collectors Guild hired him to be the Postman, to gather the notes that will help the humankind to have a deeper understanding on how and why the world ended. Nobody knows anything for sure; the only certainty is that it's really dangerous out th...
