Kennedy & the Yautja

Chapter 1 - Kennedy

The abandoned city was quiet. Weeds grew thick as fields while vines climbed the skyscrapers. Birds sang high atop their perches, where they were safe from the utter chaos on the ground.

Old, ragged banners with "Decontamination Area" hung haphazardly from a dilapidated Starbucks. Spray paint decorated old storefronts with a red X or graffiti. The black skeletons of rusted cars were lined up in front of their forever traffic jam. Their shattered glass glittered beneath them in the sun. In the far distance, between two canyons of ruined skyscrapers, a pair of deer perked up and skittered off.

All of this was seen through Kennedy's eyes as she carefully pedaled her way down the crumbling sidewalk. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, her head on a swivel.

Being in the city was dangerous. She wanted to get in and get out. It was survival that brought her here in the first place. Supplies were running low. More medicine was needed.

Zekes would see her as an easy snack to spread their pathogen. Open wounds without antibiotics and first aid could kill you faster than a bite from a Zeke. The undead were scary, but Mother Nature was worse. She took no prisoners and took the weak with her. Too many of her friends, family, and acquaintances had been lost to both Zeke and Mother Nature. It was like some kind of punishment, people said...for fucking up the climate or fossil fuels.

That's what the old folks said, anyway.

They were the ones who were young in the days of the outbreak.

Before long, Kennedy was parking her bike in a musty, old CVS. The gray carpet was stained with a variety of colors, both brown and black; bloodstains were still sprayed on walls and busted shelves, and they pooled on the floor. Anything super useful had been looted in the early days of the outbreak. She and others were left to scavenge for scraps.

Herbal medicine had become commonly used among survivors and their descendants, but sometimes the modern conveniences of old were needed.

She drew her long, dark hair into a low ponytail, unsheathing the machete at her hip. Holding it at the ready, Kennedy treaded lightly through the toppled shelves.

Bile rose up her throat when she came upon a rotting corpse chained to the end of the aisle. It had ragged, stained clothes riddled with bullet holes. The corpse had recently come apart like a water balloon, with dark, viscous liquid pooling around its body. Acid churned in Kennedy's stomach as she skirted her way around the fluid, pinching her nose tightly. Even with her nostrils closed, the stench of rot still reached her.

Once she passed the corpse, she hurried towards the clinic at the rear and jumped over the counter. The tall shelves had been cleaned out, but she wasn't looking there.

Aha!

Down at the bottom, tucked away in an empty cubby beneath the counter, was an unopened first-aid kit. Somehow it had been completely missed. Kennedy found the unopened plastic box fully intact.

It was her lucky day!

The old license plates that she wore as armor clunked together in her haste to get moving, keeping her machete in hand just in case. She walked her bicycle back through the doors as quietly as she could. Broken glass crunched beneath her boots with every step.

Sunlight reflected brightly off of intact windows in the buildings, briefly blinding Kennedy. She averted her eyes and steadily pedaled her way back down the sidewalk. It was a soft noise that stopped her in her tracks.

Turning her head, she saw a Zeke lumbering down the street. The Zeke had been a woman with dark hair; her clothes were ragged and torn on her pale, rotting body. Clouded eyes focused forward as she meandered through the rusted shells of cars. A slight breeze blew the stench of her toward Kennedy. The smell was almost enough to make Kennedy vomit on the spot, but she covered her mouth to muffle the sound.