THE WRITTEN SONGS OF OUR SOULS, the walking dead

I. The Descent.

—THE GAS STATION was long since abandoned. The scent of decay was sharp in the front, the owner's body having rotted for a while. She hoped it would keep the dead away. Lorna would say it had to have been weeks. He had to have survived for a while, two months into the apocalypse.  She'd been fortunate to find a container of formula. She hadn't ever been around children all that much. Her youngest sibling was born on her first birthday. 

Lorna chewed silently on a candy bar, that had been kicked under a shelf. Everything had been wiped clean. There was no gas, no food. No life outside of Lorna and her baby nephew. Livius, she'd named him. Her sister had always been obsessed with the Greeks and Romans. Lorna and Addison hadn't been on good terms before she died on the night of the fall, mere hours before they bombed all the bridges in New York. Lorna had hardly made it. 

Even making it this far was based on mere luck. How long until Livius's cries had attracted the dead? How long until she couldn't find the formula? How long until there was no water, no food for her and she grew too weak to take care of him? She forced away all those thoughts and ignored the way her stomach tied in knots at the thought. Lorna tried to have all his needs met before he cried.

She had a chair propped against the door of the back, and had the curtains pulled closed. She hadn't risked moving since she sat down hours before, hadn't wanted to disrupt her peace. 

The bell in the front rings, and her heart stops. Especially once Livius stirs. She places him down in the crate beside her, stuffed with her jacket and a clean pillow she'd found. She stands, praying. She didn't believe in God before. She wasn't sure if she did now. If it kept him and her alive, she'd devote the rest of her life to Him. 

Lorna has her gun held in her hand, her finger resting on the trigger. She pulls the door open, as silent as she can be. She raises it, "Get the hell out of here. It's been claimed," The man whirled around, surprised at her voice. He carries a red gas can and a cowboy hat on his head. He holds out his hand, "I'm not here to hurt you," He says. She didn't believe that. In the last two months since the world went to hell, it gave men free reign to do whatever they liked. She wasn't naive enough to deny being pretty. She knew what would happen to her if she let it. 

"I just need some gas. See, I'm heading to Atlanta," His voice was soft, gentle. Lorna had always attempted to make it to Virginia. Her grandfather lived right outside Richmond, he had been something of a survivalist. Unless one of her second cousins got to it first, or anyone else who knew of it, there should be food, weapons, and water. Then again, part of her hoped her eldest sister, Lilia, had made it there. She went to college in Virginia. Strayer University. 

"I don't give a shit," She hissed, glancing back at her door. "Leave," He doesn't. He just looks at her with something like pity. "I'm Rick. I think Atlanta could be safe. You could-you could come with," She had her doubts. 

Her stomach dropped at the sharp cry. She closed her eyes. "You have a baby?" He asked softly. She nodded after a pause. There was something in his face, or maybe it was the sheriff's outfit he wore that made her want to trust him. Lorna lowered her gun. She bit the inside of her cheek. "I have enough gas to go a little more away. It's not safe out here for a young girl and her baby," It all went against her better judgment to agree. She knew it wasn't smart, knew she couldn't trust anyone out here. But she'd been alone for two months. Part of her knew she couldn't take care of Livius alone. "Alright, sheriff. Let me grab my things," 

"What's your name?" He asked. 

"Lorna Wells," She responded. A fake name nearly slipped off her tongue. She'd used the name Julienne Morgenstern for years online, had nearly done it now when none of it mattered and nothing seemed real anymore.