"I hate everyone."
"Except me, right?"
"No, especially you."
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It's funny, isn't it? That when the whole world decides to become infected with a brutal and fatal virus, the real monsters are the ones still alive? Blake Finnegan lost most of...
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MANY TIMES I'VE TRIED TO INITIATE SOME SORT OF CONVERSATION WITH BLAKE. He doesn't respond. Tells me to shut up and keep on moving.
It's been well over an hour now since Holland died. I still see him, like that, in the back of my mind. It's odd. Weird. That someone - anyone - can change so quickly.
I think what scared me more was how quick Blake was to shoot him. How right now, he doesn't seem distraught. He seems careless. Aware (of me probably), but careless. Holding a gun to my back as we walk, not faltering, remaining silent.
"How am I even supposed to know where I'm going when you have the map?" I ask, not looking behind me. The last time I moved my head to turn and face him he threatened to shoot me.
"I'll tell you if you need to make a turn." He responds.
I sigh, continuing forward as we follow the same highway we've been following for over a day now.
When we first started this, Blake said it would only take a week. Then after staying at Izulu Le'Bent's place (most traumatising moment of my life I think) he changed his mind and told us it would probably take two weeks.
So I guess that means one out of fourteen days is done. Thirteen more to try and avoid zombies, shit weather, and - probably - other humans.
"You gonna stay up all night then?" I ask him. If he's this keen and persistent on holding a gun to my head every moment we're together, he'll probably die not from me biting him but from exhaustion.
Blake doesn't respond. He keeps us walking.
I'm surprised he hasn't asked any more about me. About the mark on my hand or the one on my arm that hasn't caused me to start growling and bleeding mucus. I'm sure if it were any other person they'd be curious. Ask me how, what, when, where, why?
A year ago, I had just ran home after a girl bit her friend's neck out on the ice. I rushed inside, locked the door of my apartment and called out to my mother, father, brother.
They weren't home.
So I called them with my phone instead, all three of them - until my brother picked up. He said they were coming home from his tennis game, that it was cut short due to issues surrounding an uproar - upset because he thought he was going to win the tournament.
That uproar though was in response to the numerous people eating each other globally. At the time we didn't realise how problematic that was. How consistent and spreadful it could be.
Finally when they arrived home we turned the news on. Found out the virus that the government had passed as a flu from weeks ago was back, more serious than ever. This time it wasn't just killing the people it infected. It was killing them and having them pass it on even in death.
