A Glimmer of Hope

In the Darkness

"NOW what am I supposed to do here?" I asked myself out loud, in the middle of the woods.

It was almost two months after the world fell into a monster filled war zone. After I got into Georgia, it was pretty easy to get through the bulk of the state, I was a little outside of the city of Atlanta, when I got stopped by some assholes who stole my RV. The one thing that had all of my possessions and was keeping me safe this whole time. I pulled over to refuel, try to siphon some gas out of the cars at the station. While I was doing this, some one came up behind me and tied a blind-fold over my eyes. They tied my wrists together too. A few minutes had gone by, and still no one spoke to me. I decided I wasn't going to let them kill me. My life was more important than some wheels and if I'm meant to make it, I will. If not, well, that's how it's supposed to be.

I took a deep breath to steady my breathing and took a chance. "Take the RV. Just let me grab a few things. Some important things and some food. I'll let you take the damned thing. It's really a dream in a time like this. Please," I reasoned calmly through my blindfold. There was some heavy breathing but no response at first. This scared me. Then, I heard whispering. Two men. Back and forth. I wish my hearing were better.

Finally, one approached me and untied me and removed the blindfold. He was average height, with very dirty blonde hair. It was matted in places and his skin was splotched with what looked like could have been a mixture of mud and blood. His clothes were torn and dirty and baggy on him, like he found them or he had lost a significant amount of weight or both. One thing that I noticed about him immediately was that he didn't look dangerous or that he was capable of hurting me, but he had the look of hunger in his eyes. I briefly thought that he had suffered enough. It was my turn to figure out if I could make it on my own. I bit the inside of my lips to laugh at the thought of not minding whatsoever losing to this guy.

I've always had this habit of inappropriate laughter, but this was literally the most awful time that it could betray me. Thankfully after living with it for 35 years, I have learned to control it. Funerals were tough as a kid. I have always used jokes to soothe my mind when I'm sad. Sometimes I'm so funny that I can't stand it though.

"I'm sorry that we had to do this," he started cautiously. "I have a family back at my camp, other people who depend on me to provide as well, and we don't welcome outsiders anymore. Not after we lost a few men recently. We can't afford to trust anyone. You can go get the things you want and some food, then we have to take your wheels, I hope you understand I wish I didn't have to," he finished the last sentence at almost a whisper.

So, I complied. I typically try not to be one to cave, but I didn't see another way out of this one. The other man he was whispering to a few minutes ago was standing next to him and was holding an assault rifle. I have never been afraid to fight a man, but a man with a gun is another story.

I went through the RV quickly and grabbed my backpack I had made up just in case shit were to ever hit the fan. In the backpack, I had packed a few pictures of Benjamin and I, some clothes, food, knives, lighter fluid, a lighter, toiletries, and a tent. I grabbed a blanket and set it up on top of the backpack so it wouldn't fall as I carried it. I looked around and prepared myself to go out into the unknown; in the darkness of this cold world.

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About two weeks later, I was really getting the hang of being on my own out in the wilderness surviving. I was not covering nearly as much ground as I was with my RV, but I was definitely getting somewhere. I was finally able to see some of the 'infected' up close. They were reanimated corpses. I had seen some people on the road when getting gas that had just stabbed them in the skull and that was that, so I tested it out, and it works. I just call them the infected since I hadn't talked to anyone since the man that drove off with my precious RV. I don't hold any anger toward him. He's just doing what he has to do to survive and I'm sure I'll be in a tough spot like that one day. Maybe on that day, I can fully understand the nameless man that drove off with the last thing I had left in the world.