~the undead Diaries~ (re-editing!!)

finding shelter

As we sprinted up the steep incline of the hill, I caught sight of a small group of individuals frantically descending the slope. There were three of them, I noticed, their expressions filled with a mix of panic and determination. It was clear they were hurrying toward a nearby store, likely in search of desperately needed supplies. But as they raced down, chaos erupted; the group began to scatter. One by one, they fell victim to the lurking horrors—their frenzied attempts to escape proving futile.

I could hardly process the grim reality unfolding before me. "They didn't survive that. Zilla, they didn't survive that," Brodey shouted, his voice cracking with fear. "How are we supposed to survive in the middle of nowhere if they couldn't even get past those things? We are going to die, Zilla!" His panic was palpable, echoing the dread that threatened to consume me.

"Brodey, if you don't shut up right now, we're going to become zombie food!" I snapped back, my irritation bubbling over. The gravity of our situation weighed heavily, and I couldn't afford to let his fear infect my resolve. "Now let's start walking up the hill so we can get away from the city."

With a determined breath, I began to ascend the hill, putting distance between us and the chaos that engulfed the city below. As we climbed higher, I could feel my heart racing, not just from the exertion but from the looming threat behind us. Each step was a reminder that time was running out for us to escape the nightmare.

We finally managed to put enough distance between ourselves and the chaos of the city, allowing us to stop our frantic running and catch our breath. My mind raced with thoughts of survival; I needed to find a place to stay, perhaps a house or an abandoned building, and gather more supplies. The harsh reality was clear: if I didn't find something soon, both Brodey and I could face starvation or worse—illness from lack of food. And beyond that, I needed to teach him how to fight. In this unforgiving world, he wouldn't stand a chance without the skills to defend himself. The thought of anything happening to him while I was around sent a wave of dread through me.

"Zilla, where are we going to go?" Brodey's voice trembled slightly, edged with both worry and uncertainty. "We're so far from home, and I don't want to go back through that city. What if we run out of food?" Despite his fear, I could sense that he felt a bit calmer now that we were tucked away from the urban chaos.

"Don't worry," I replied, trying to infuse my voice with confidence, though I felt the weight of our situation pressing down on me. "We will find somewhere to stay, I promise you. We're going to survive this. It might be a struggle, but we'll make it. We just need to locate some supplies and a haven for the night."

With the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky, the urgency of our mission settled in. "We need to move quickly if we want to secure a place before darkness falls. So stay close to me, all right?" I could feel the tension in Brodey ease just a bit as I spoke, but I knew we were still in peril. Time was of the essence, and every shadow seemed to whisper a reminder of the dangers lurking out there.

We had been walking for about an hour and a half, the sun dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the trail, when we stumbled upon a quaint farmhouse. It was an old structure with weathered wooden siding and a cozy porch, complete with a delicate swing that swayed gently in the breeze. Behind the house, a sturdy barn stood tall, its red paint peeling away to reveal the gray wooden planks beneath, and a lush garden overflowing with colorful flowers and ripe vegetables, creating a picturesque scene.

I recognized this place instantly; it belonged to Mr. Jackson, a man who had been friends with my Dad since their high school days. Our family would often visit, spending afternoons surrounded by a variety of animals that roamed freely around the property. My heart would race with joy every time we came here, especially because of the horses. Those majestic creatures had captured my heart when I was just a child. I would spend hours riding them, feeling the wind in my hair and the exhilaration of galloping across the open fields. That was back before we moved to the city, leaving behind the warmth of our grandparents' home.

"Hey Brodey, look! It's Mr. Jackson's house!" I exclaimed, the excitement bubbling up inside me as I pointed toward the familiar structure. With enthusiasm, I started tugging on my brother's arm, eager to revisit those cherished memories. However, Brodey hesitated, his eyes wide with unease. "But what if those things are in there?" he asked, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. I could see him starting to freak out, his imagination running wild. I quickly shook my head, reassuring him. "Come on, you know Mr. Jackson is just a big zombie fanatic; he loves all that spooky stuff, but he's harmless. I promise it'll be fine!" I attempted to calm him, knowing that deep down, Mr. Jackson's love for horror was just part of his quirky charm.