Walking felt effortless and like everything at the same time. Like I was floating, and I couldn't stop my legs even if I wanted to, the pain was almost unbearable. There was a pack of them behind me, about a half mile back but every time I tried to go any faster, it seems like all I'm doing is slowing down.
I had a stick in one hand, strong enough for me to use to pull myself forward, since my leg is not taking too much weight at the moment. The handle of a dirty gun grasped tightly in my hand, but the few bullets I had wouldn't do much if they caught up to me.
I took a deep breath. I know I have to just push it. But I was bleeding as is, and I can't risk passing out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by nothing but masses of the dead. I hurried along, legs moving quick, my bag slapping against my back as I ran. I was low on food and on water. The one thing I had a lot of though, was guns. But guns don't mean shit without ammo
I was alone when all of this started. Always alone. Until I wasn't. Dead ones outside always willing to be some warm body's company. It would be easy to assume my brother was dead, it's been 10 months give or take a few weeks since this all started. But I couldn't, I couldn't let myself. He wouldn't let me forget it.
I've been traveling with no plan accept trying to get to the ocean, cleaning out houses as I go. But there's been fewer and fewer things left. I had a few small run-ins with other groups. But I never stayed long enough to let myself get stuck. Good thing too, because every time I've circled back, the places seem to disappear.
The growling grew louder in my ears. And glanced over my shoulder, gasping at the sight of the dead ones right behind me, I was slowing down by the minute. I shook my head and pushed on, feet digging into the mud.
This isn't the first time I got caught in front of a heard, but I'm usually able to run at my full capacity.
I sighed loudly, wiping my forehead on my sleeve. I scanned my surroundings. There was an old building poking out from behind a hill in front of me, some sort of warehouse, blocking my view behind it, but it had just been fields for a while now. Fields and empty houses. I hurried to the building, thinking it's my best shot at not getting torn apart.
My foot scraped against the sidewalk, and I groaned, gritting my teeth and pushing on. I practically crawled up the hill, letting myself roll back down the other side. I gasped and sputtered as I pulled myself to my feet, dragging my body as best as I could toward the building.
There was no door on the side I was facing, so I hurried along the far side, out of the walkers view. There was a large set of steel doors. I grabbed the handles, yanking on them aggressively. Locked. I cried, slamming into them as hard as I could.
"No no no no no..." I mumbled out, holding my head in my hands. This was it. I can honestly say I'm surprised I made it this far. With a deep breath. I pushed myself to my feet. I was not going to get eaten alive. I tapped the gun against my forehead before shouting in frustration. They were closing in, and fast.
The thought crossed my mind for just one second, of taking my life now while I had the chance, quick and easy, but I quickly shook my head.
"No. No!!" I yelled. Turning with my gun.
I planted my feet, and took a deep breath in. "No." My voice was barely above a whisper.
I raised the gun, holding it out towards the sea of walkers. I started shooting rapidly, taking one down with every shot. I kept backing up, shooting until my back was against the building. I pulled my knife, trying my best to take them out, but there were too many.
Suddenly, the sound of a truck engine, and rapid gun fire echoed out from the right, and the crowd of dead in front of me began to drop.
I stepped back, my eyes wide and panicked, when the passenger door swung open, revealing a large man with a big smile.
"Well come on now!! Unless you wanna do this on your own!!"
