Life After Death

Chapter 1

I spent the first two years alone, something I never thought I would grow to despise.

After the death of my family, there wasn't exactly anyone to call or hire. Either everyone else was dead, dying or fleeing for their lives. The build-up of abandoned cars on the highways is still there, rusting away.

I rummaged through my house, deciding what would be best to run away with. Looking back, my choices weren't the smartest, but I was 14 and scared.

I took food from the cupboards, though most of it ended up being thrown away since I realised, I had no way of cooking any of the raw stuff I brought along with me. I grabbed as many water bottles as I could find, although I think I still have the back issues from the weight of them in my tiny ass backpack. Then I found some kind of pistol in my father's draw, for whatever reason he had it I didn't know or care, I took it anyway. And finally, I grabbed one of my sister's teddy bears and my mother's old necklace, clasping it around my neck and stuffing the bear in my bag.

I had everyone with me.

No one answered their phones. Not my aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends- anyone. Presumably, they were dead, dying or running away themselves to whatever sanctuary they could find, but after the fifth ring each, there was no point anymore. I was on my own.

And it stayed that way, for a long, long time.

Part of me believed that after a week, maybe two, everything would return to normal. There would be a cure and society would regain stability. We would mourn those that died, and life would go on. But I knew it never would truly- I just couldn't quite admit that to myself yet. I had seen things I would only see on the horror films I pirated with my friends, gore I didn't think was humanly possible just in the streets outside my house. I lived in a flat, and the corridors were full of whining, decaying people and bodies, and the streets had been no better.

As the weeks passed, I lost trace of anyone. When the electricity had failed and completely shut down, I followed the train tracks. I didn't know where they would lead me, but I had to start somewhere right? I had barely used the phone I took along with me, and before it lost power I could tell the mobile data services had also crashed. I could only assume water and other sources of life had too.

My suspicions were confirmed when I decided to squat in an old, empty house for a while. There was no Wi-Fi, service, or running water.

I could hardly believe that this was the scenario seven-year-old me incompetently dreamed about.

As the weeks passed, I grew lonelier and lonelier. I did not know what it was I was staying alive for. I often thought about putting my father's pistol up to my head and ending it all there and then. Until I decided I was not ready for death, not yet anyway. It still scared me.

To this day, it still does if I'm honest.

On the one hand, at least I finally gained the maturity I so desperately needed. Being lazy wasn't a thing anymore, not if I wanted to survive. Everything was a hike away, a bath, more food, more water, it all cost effort. And I put in that effort.

For weeks, I could have easily believed I was the only one left. I saw no one, heard no one. Even the birds seemed to disappear for a while, I began to think it had maybe killed them too until I woke up to their soft song one morning. But, after what must have been a month or two, I did see people. Well, more like heard them screech by in their hotwired car. I didn't get a huge look at them, but from what I saw they looked my age, yet a brutal thug all at once.

I stayed put in this house I found for a few days, whoever had lived their prior must have had children, because the closest I had to music was a few of those old McDonalds music players from 2011. The deprival of music made me barely even notice how crackly it really was. And when I decided to leave and move on again, I even packed them up with me.