𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏

Branches and sticks sting my skin as I run through the dense woods. Sunlight filters through the trees in a low haze, signaling the imminent dusk that threatens to cast the forest in ominous darkness. My fiery red hair dances in the wind behind me; a tangled, dirty mess that hasn't seen a shower in ages. The sound of my boots against the leaves on the ground echoes almost as loud as the dead that follow me. Growling and shuffling after me like I'm the first hot meal they've seen in a while.

I run as fast as I can, but it's not fast enough. It's suffocatingly hot and I haven't eaten in hours, so the herd of walkers behind me keeps doubling in size with all of the sound I'm making as I trudge along.

My chest heaves as my heart thumps harshly against it. The oxygen dwindles more and more with every breath that I take because of the sharp cramp forming just underneath my rib cage. It's an annoying sensation that makes my exhaustion turn into vexation. I know that I won't be able to run much longer without passing out, allowing the drooling freaks to feast on me.

I'm not sure how appetizing I'll be. I'm barely skin and bones in this Georgia heat.

They don't care. To them—I'm a fresh buffet. Just enough meat to dig their grimy fingers into as they rip apart my flesh.

Yum.

I decide to round a large tree as a last ditch effort to save my own ass, but my face smacks into a hard slab of chest. My green eyes glare up at a taller guy, much taller than myself, who is also glaring back down at me with eyes that are only a few shades darker than mine. His brown hair falls down over his forehead, slightly in his eyes, and his face appears to not have seen a razor in a while. My scowl falls on his muscular arms that are covered in dirt, much like my own, but I don't have time to really examine them before the familiar groans of walkers indicate that they've caught up to us.

With an exasperated growl, I quickly turn to face the incoming herd, whisking my knife from my belt and plunging it directly into the closest walker's head. The squelching of decomposing brains and blood would normally make me grimace, but I'm too busy rolling my eyes at the crossbow wielder who decides to step in and take out a few of them himself.

"I didn't ask for your help," I grumble loudly as I yank out my knife and waste no time stabbing it into another geek.

"I'm helpin' myself."

His voice is deep, rough. I don't miss the slight hint of sass that laces it.

I don't have time to counter with my own attitude as a walker grabs my arm, tugging me to its disgusting jaws just before I slip from its grasp. Shoving against its chest, which is more bones than anything else, I watch as it stumbles backwards until it loses balance and falls to the ground.