What We Lost

they won't win

It's been officially 3 weeks since he's arrived. It wasn't long before the houses foundation was no match for the nightly hordes of Walkers. One cracked a window in the night. Fortunately, Grayson caught it in time. So that morning, he hauled old tools and wooden planks up from the basement and insisted on covering the windows and back door.

"Are you sure you don't want any help?" I ask, leaning against the doorframe as I watched him work away. Wiping the sheen of sweat off his forehead, he smiled over at me.
"I got it."

I shake my head in disbelief, putting gloves on and grabbing a plank and a few nails. I hold up the plank to a window, and dig the nail into the wood. I grab a large hammer.

I over- estimated my abilities yet again, and instead of slamming it against the nail, it hits my thumb. I yelp, dropping the heavy hammer onto the floor which barely missed my foot. He drops his tools and hurries over to me, taking my hand. My finger felt like it was broken. "This is why I said I could handle it," he says with frustration.

"That's gonna leave a bruise.." I breathe, trying to act fine with the pain. He shakes his head with a sigh.

"Sit down. I'll get you an icepack." I carefully sit down on the stair step, avoiding the pile of tools resting below me. He comes back with a travel size ice pack and hands it to me.

"Thanks." I murmur. I felt sort of embarrassed. I wanted him to think I was capable. As he continues to work, the noise of the nails being hammered drew in a few of the Walkers. I listen quietly as their dragging feet creak against our deck. They begin to pound on the door. They've never fully came up to the house. They've never done this.

"Grayson!" I yell, standing quickly. He runs over and presses his hands up against the door. "We will need to board this up too." He begins quickly hammering planks onto it as the zombies get more and more agitated. I don't realize how heavy im breathing until he looks over at me with concern.

My palms sweat. There must be nothing left in the city, so they are moving to the neighborhoods. Does this mean there is no one left? My lungs feel like they can't expand enough. The air feels thick. Graysons calloused hands meet my face.

"Vivian, listen to me." He says quietly, looking me in the eyes. I shake my head, lips trembling. If the zombies keep at it the boards will only hold up for a night. "Vivian," He whispers again and I swallow, my throat tight. "We will be fine. It will pass." His hand brushes against my hair. I focus on his eyes. Those green eyes that I have became so familiar with. And I wish things were different.

"Are you ever afraid," I ask him, unshed tears in my eyes. He doesn't answer me.

"Are you ever afraid, Grayson." I repeat. His hands move to the sides of my neck.

"All the time." He murmurs. "Before I go to sleep and when I wake up. I am afraid of losing myself in this. And I'm afraid of losing you." His words make me feel things. And that scares me.

"They can try all night, Vivian. But I will not let them win. I won't let them hurt you."

His hands were trembling on me. He was just as scared as I was.

That night, after everything was boarded up, we finally settled where it seemed to be the safest. The basement. The door was locked and sturdy. The room was compact. Most of what we needed was down here, other than food. I brought down a few snacks to share to hold us over until morning.

I slip into my sleeping bag, watching him as he stares up at the door. His gun was next to him on the cement floor. I reach out, touching his arm.
"We can take watch turns." I whisper. "Get some rest."

He shakes his head softly. "No need." I stare defiantly until he agrees and gets into his own sleeping bag, facing me. He slowly reaches out, our hands touching briefly. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. But then he pulls away - settling down and closing his eyes. The feeling disappears as quick as it came. I almost reach out, just to feel it again; but I don't. I slowly drift off to sleep.