Our Life (Sequel to "Remnants")

The Last Journey

-Carl-

The first time I saw Riley, I could have shot him. I had killed before - blasted a boy's brains out when he was surrendering - and there was no telling that I could kill again. But when I saw Riley... I didn't, and to this day I could not tell you why.

I'm not going to delve into the world of cliche and say something along the lines of 'it was meant to be,' but it was undeniable that something happened then - because Riley was alive, when so, so many others weren't. 

I could've killed Riley, but I didn't, and now I was sat beside him in a battered Chrysler, surrounded by a horde of at least ten dozen shambling corpses, and I was sat right beside the same person who I had pointed my gun at two years ago. 

There could be people I know in that herd. Friends... Family... But we are alive, and today we're going to prove it.

"Alright," Riley breathed deeply, slamming the door shut as he buckled himself into the vehicle and adjusted the rear-view mirror.

"Riley we don't need a damned safety check!" I urged, motioning to the tsunami of flesh-eating bodies that were just half a kilometer away from utterly washing over us. He nodded in agreement and with an apologetic smile, which only lasted a few seconds.

It fell when sighed, "oh shit. We don't have keys."

Oh that's not good. That's really, really not good at all. 

"Well they've gotta be around here somewhere, right? I mean the guy who owned it only shot himself a foot away," I groaned in anger and frustration. Then we both realized that I had probably just blurted out the answer unintentionally.

The owner.

Me being the closest to him, I clambered out of the car and began reluctantly yet hastily searching the pockets of the corpse.

I sighed in disgust as I found the keys, which were encrusted with the vehicle's former owner's blood.

"Here!" I called to Riley, throwing him the keys before clambering back into the car.

"Alright," he breathed nervously, sliding the key into the ignition and giving it a firm twist. We both sighed in relief as the decade-old engine gradually rattled to life. It was a dinner bell to walkers, but also an answered prayer to us. 

"Hey," I smiled, noticing Riley's trembling hand placed on the hand-brake and placing mine on top of it, "we're gonna be alright."

Riley looked up at me, and I could clearly tell that my optimism had lifted his spirit massively, and he now nodded in a much more firm and determined manner, shifting the gear-stick before leaning back for a moment.

"Carl," he breathed, looking out toward the walkers that shambled toward us. It was a very daunting sight; there was no question about that - and we had no weapons to stop them. But we'd be okay. We always were.

"I love you."

I smiled in response, before Riley reached forward, gripping the steering wheel in both hands.

"We're gonna have to drive through," I observed, knowing that Alexandria was somewhere behind the mass of twisted, mangled corpses that stormed toward us, now less than a hundred meters away.

"I know," Riley acknowledged hesitantly, "I know."

"We'll be fine," he added, presumably as a form of self-assurance rather than aimed at reassuring me, since his eyes were still transfixed on the horde of undead.

"We have to go," I insisted, my voice barely audible over the sickening chorus of rasping groans and lifeless gurgles that was almost deafening now.

Riley needed no further motivation, slamming his foot onto the accelerator and clutching the steering wheel like our lives depended on it - which they did. 

We seemed to approach the herd almost in slow-motion. The passing countryside reminded me of a better life, with the sun casting pleasantly optimistic rays across the valley. It seemed out of place when put with the shambling mass of death that we approached. It felt like it was taking too long to reach it - in a way, I just longed to get it over with - but at the same time it didn't seem long enough, because I knew that when we drove into that herd... 

There was a high chance we may not come out again.

--

-Riley-

When we impacted against the first wave of bodies that surged toward us like a fist slamming against a brick wall. Carl and I were jolted violently forwards as at least four bodies were bowled down and crushed beneath our car, which stalled briefly atop the corpses. I tried to ignore the crunching and cracking of brittle bone, and the disgusting squelch of the tires as they revved in blood and gore, slamming my foot down on the peddle again as we finally began driving forward again.

Rotting hands slammed against the car, desperate to drag us down and tear us to pieces, but we would not let it happen - not now, not after everything that we've been through. Blood had stained the windscreen, and the window-wipers weren't functioning, meaning that visibility was poor. That didn't matter much anyway, since all we would see without it was more and more walkers.

Thud, thud, thud...

More and more walkers were churned up beneath the car, with the remnants of flesh and organs being spat out the back by the wheels. It was a sickening sight, but it was necessary if we wanted to survive. And I did. I really did - me and Carl. 

"We're gonna be okay," I mumbled to myself, as the windscreen was now totally obscured with blood and it was hard to tell if we were making any progress at all, "we're gonna be okay..."

Suddenly, the windscreen was shattered, with shards of broken glass as well as the wave of blood that had pooled up onto it spilling into the car. This was apparently caused by a walker who had rolled onto the bonnet instead of falling beneath the car, and now slid into the vehicle through the smashed windscreen. 

"Shit, shit, shit!" I yelled in shock, finding it quite difficult to focus on driving with a shambling corpse rolling into my lap. 

"Carl, take care of that!" I instructed frantically, punching my foot against the peddle once again as the Chrysler pushed gradually and almost fruitlessly against the wall of corpses.

Carl was forced to improvise, with no firearms or useful weapons, and gripped a tuft of the walker's blood entwined hair before proceeding gorily slam its head repeatedly against the dashboard. Blood spattered across the front of the car, accompanied with fragments of bone and even the grotesque remains of a ghastly white eyeball. 

The sight was utterly sickening, but adrenaline allowed me to hold back this disgust and I was able to prioritize my driving at least for the time being.

"Oh Jesus," Carl sighed at the gory sight, before asking "how the hell did you learn how to drive?"

"Let's discuss that later!" I suggested sarcastically, trying to drive as fast as I could to ensure that no other walkers toppled through the smashed windscreen. 

Then, however, the car came to a stand-still.

The car had stopped, because I had stopped driving.

And I had stopped driving, because I had just seen a walker.

That walker... Was my mother.