Dead Love

Survival

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. It wasn't long before the entire state of Illinois was crawling with second generation zombies. In fact, half the country was infested with the living dead. Some humans gunned the creatures down while others succumbed to the fear.

It only took the first two weeks for Emmit to realize the magnitude and ramifications of his choice. He was yet to find Grace or even bump into the unit during his journey. If he didn't speak to someone soon, he felt he'd go insane. Two months of hearing nothing but groans was getting the best of him.

Ducking his head through the doorway, Emmit stepped inside the abandoned shed. Cobwebs adorned the ceiling, there was no source of light, and the door was missing. But it had to do for the time being.

Emmit had been jumping from place to place, laying low and staying out of any unnecessary spotlights. He had already turned three times in the past two months and it was to happen again that night. At the rate the the second generations reigned over America, he didn't know if he'd even be able to find a decent meal. It was getting harder to hunt live humans or animals anymore with all the competition for game.

Deciding he missed sleeping in a grave, Emmit searched through the shed to find a shovel. Luckily, he spotted one in the back corner. He picked the metal up and started out to the backyard. Looking forward, Emmit saw the evacuated house. He couldn't help thinking of the family who lived in it before the world sunk. Before all the mindless killings started. He wasn't proud that he had killed his fair share of humans. I'm just surviving, he tried convincing himself all too many times.

The key to surviving this thing was acceptance. However, Emmit wasn't worried about survival. That was the least of his worries. No, Emmit was worried about staying sane. He needed people, he realized. Not to devour, to offer company. He hadn't even realized how much he wanted to just talk to someone, before they all left him. That was a selfish thought. He had left them.

With that token, Emmit was still dead. He shouldn't have been that wounded by being alone. He was alone the day a bullet was lodged in the back of his head. That was the real day all hope was lost for him. Anything or anyone after that didn't matter. His soul was gone.

Yet, Emmit couldn't fully believe that. He couldn't believe he was soulless. He felt something. It may have not been as strong as any human feelings he felt, but he still felt. That was the only explanation to his anger towards the world. There was a spark of humanity left in him. Forcing the thoughts away, Emmit picked a spot in the backyard and began to dig a temporary grave.

Emmit spent a quick half hour digging his grave. Chucking the shovel to the side, he wiped the caked dirt off his hands and onto his worn out jeans. Taking a step back, he surveyed his grave and nodded in approval.

"Not too bad," he muttered to himself.

- - - - -

In the evening, just as the sun began to set, Emmit turned into a zombie. His skin became discolored and dry. His eyes hollowed out, and his teeth were replaced with shards. It was routine to him. With his stomach aching with hunger and his brain only processing the words eat, food, and hunt, Emmit went out for an early kill.

Searching through the deserted city was a lost cause. As predicted, he couldn't find any live humans to feed on. He was forced to devour a half-eaten human corpse lying on the street. The meet was rotten and had a strong stench to it, but Emmit was left with no other options.

Standing from his crouched position on the sidewalk, Emmit shook his head and wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his arm. "Disgusting," he growled. Giving up, Emmit began walking back to his shed.

The city around him was suffocated with limping second generation zombies. Their groans and slow footsteps echoed off the buildings and into the air. Emmit was becoming accustomed to the sounds, but still never looked at himself as one of brain-dead zombie. They weren't like him. He had to convince himself he was better for the sake of whatever sanity he possessed.

Arriving back to the backyard he'd been occupying, Emmit jumped into his grave and slept with hunger pangs jolting through him. He tossed and turned as his stomach screamed, but he was going to wait it out. After a full twenty four hours, the pain would stop.

Emmit woke the next night. He'd slept through the entire day and through the torture, and he was human again. He felt better. After jumping out of his grave, Emmit slapped away some of the dirt on his hoodie and jeans. He hadn't took a proper shower in months, and he was beginning to smell like what he was: a zombie.

Just as he turned his back toward the abandoned house he hid behind, a loud noise rippled through the silent night. Emmit's head snapped behind his neck. He's brows creased as he tried making sense of the deafening sound and smoke filling the air.

Another boom and sudden crack of light. Emmit flinched at the noise and reflexively stepped back. The city was being bombed. Grey smoke swirled and clogged the city quick enough for any human to be chocking in a matter of seconds. Good thing Emmit wasn't human. But he also wasn't immortal.

Turning quick on his heels, Emmit made a bee-line for the shed and slammed the wooden door behind him. He paced in circles trying to think of a plan. As he was in mid-thought, another startling bomb struck and zombie groans sounded louder than ever before.

"This is it," he whispered. "I was never meant to live. This is my time." Emmit nodded his head in attempt to tell himself his death was to come sooner or later. But the more he tried telling himself, the more he didn't want to believe it.

Emmit's sensitive ears could hear the whispers of human from across the street. His eyes narrowed. Human? Their scent was strong as they drew stealthy steps forwards. Suddenly, there was a herd of men marching straight toward the backyard. Emmit could hear the holding and shuffling of metal. The men had weapons. 

Outside, a subdivision from the military base were sectioning off into groups to clear out the area. A group of seven soldiers began searching the backyard as the rest split up down the street, clearing houses of mutants. The Army men were dressed in fatigue uniform, bullet proof vest, and helmets strapped on. 

The lieutenant made a silent signal toward the shed. The soldiers nodded and barged in with guns drawn and loaded. 

Emmit's eyes widened in fear as he backed into a corner with arms raised. "Wait!" he yelled as he eyed the weapons pointed him. His adrenaline pumped. Gulping, he said, "I'm not a threat. I'm human!"  He frantically pushed up his sleeves and revealed the insides of his arms. "See, no bites. I'm a survivor. I've been hiding out here." 

The soldiers didn't falter, staring at Emmit with cold eyes. He truly believed they'd gun him down right then. One soldier whispered something to another before facing Emmit. "How do we know you haven't ingested the drug?" 

Emmit's eyes widened. They already know about the drug? "I-I have no idea what your talking about," Emmit lied, feigning ignorance. He shook his head. "I've never even heard about any drug." 

There was a rustling noise through the group, and a soldier appeared from the back. He had broad shoulders and green eyes that matched Emmit's. His face was hard and lacking emotion, until he scrutinized the teen boy stood before. His face suddenly softened and his mouth went agape. 

"Parker?" Emmit breathed in disbelief. 

The soldier took a step forward, with wide eyes. "Little brother."

A/N: I don't know if you guys remember me talking about Emmit's brother earlier in the story but, drum roll, here he is. I know that chapter was kind of bleh, but hopefully you enjoyed.