Nowhere is Safe

Alone

The wind whistled across the dusty orange landscape of the plateau, dancing swiftly and silently over the moonlit ground. The moon itself sat perched among the watchful stars, baring down on the sleeping world in its entirety.

I stole across the desolate desert, keeping my eyes peeled for resources, scraps... anything useful.

The partially empty rubble sack that I had been charged to fill with goods was tossed feebly around by the wind.

I had to get something before I returned to camp. There had to be something out here of value that I had overlooked. There was no way that there was nothing out here.

In total, I would estimate that I probably had already spent about 2 hours out here. Alone.

It wasn’t that I minded being alone. I was alone most of the time during work hours anyway.

I didn’t like it that I knew that there wasn’t another person out here with me. If I screamed, it wouldn't be heard.

The wind tugged nervously at the scarf that I had losely wrapped around my head as I spotted a structure in the distance.

My brow furrowed in deep confusion, I crept cautiously towards said structure. There shouldn't be anything man-made left out here, not this far away from camp. Everything tainted by the Disease was burnt and destroyed.

The closer I got to the structure, the more detail I could make out in the eeiry gloom of the full moon.

I paid no heed to the cracked and crumbled slabs of sandstone that stood jauntily up from the ground, focusing solely on the house like structure.

Where there was a structure, there were usually things like medication and food or seeds, which meant I could go back to camp. Back to Jess.

With this in mind, I slipped through the structure's destroyed archway, my keen eyes peeled for anything that was worth something.

There was no roof to the structure - it was probably blow off during a storm - so the moonlight poured in from above, illuminating every corner of the room perfectly.

Rememants of wooden crates were piled up in the corners of the room or discarded across the floor before a solid stone plinth. Before moving over to the plinth, I went for the thin planks of wood and deposited them into my rubble sack with a dry thud.

Then, I moved to the plinth, grinding pieces broken candles into even finer dust beneath my boots. Under the plinth lay a withered bouquet of what looked to be like roses, wrapped in a crisp newspaper.

However, the thing that caught my attention the most was the small but noticeable brass sign that was screwed onto the plinth.

With the palm of my hand, I gently brushed away the sand and read the sign in curiousity:

Here, lay the Diseased
May they rest in peace

I froze.

The air was completely still around me. Even the wind wasn't up to its usual mishief. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.

Slowly, I turned around and retraced my steps out of the building. This was a Diseased graveyard, but it didn't make sense. Everything was burnt. Obliterated. How-

A sickening crack sliced through the silence.

I whinced and looked down at my feet.

A skeletal arm had been sticking out of the grave next to the path. I was standing on it. The sickening feeling of dread started to pile up in my stomach.

Gently and quietly, I back off the hand, stepping cautiously now but not taking my eyes off the limp, dead hand.

If I had blinked, I would’ve missed the fingers twitch.

My heart began to pound in my chest as I watched on in horror. The hand jerked upwards in a single movement and seemed to claw the air in desperation.

Repeated cracks sounded through the air, and the movement of ground filled the deathly silence.

All of a sudden, the air was churning with movement. The wrist of the boney hand was now jutting out of the ground. Its translucent green skin was pulled taught over the bones as it fought against the dirt that was piled on top of it.

The second hand burst from the ground in a flurry of dirt.

A sickening moan rang in my ear.

My heart was in my throat.

I ran.