Apocalypse.

Long days, short nights. That's what my life consisted of now.

Girls were laughing as I walked down the hall. "Hey, Sam! Where'd you get those boots, World War I?"

My boots slammed down onto the pavement as I ran, the dark hallway with faint flickering lights along the ceiling illuminating part of the hall.

More laughing. "I didn't realize 'military grunge' was back in style!"

The sound of my own breathing echoed off the walls, the moans and groans of the walking dead behind me sounding like a thousand when it was only ten.

My head was low as I hurried through the hall, or 'The Hell Hall' as my friends called it.

Glenn ran beside me, his breath more ragged and heavy then mine. Carl and Daryl were only a few paces behind us.

"Do you even have normal friends, Sam?" Even more laughing.

I saw the glass door, calling, "Damn, It's glass! Ain't gonna hold the geeks!"

I shoved the door open, slamming it behind me, hurrying over to my old school motorcycle that I bought with my own money, and repaired all on my own.

I kicked the door, breaking the glass and using my machete to break off the remaining fragments, a piece of glass sticking in my ankle, and made sure everyone was through before running to my bike, parked just ahead of the truck.

Twisting my keys, I revved my engine and took off, heading who knew where. Anywhere but the hell I was in already.

Turning on my motorcycle, hearing the familiar and reassuring click when the engine roared, I took off, my hair whipping around my face. The truck rumbled behind me, and I headed back to the Town.

~

"Everyone okay?" I called as I hopped off my bike, resting just outside the Wall which protected my Town. It was small, yet secure, and my whole group lived there. The Town had been overtaken when I found it, but my group had easily dispatched them. Many people who encountered us didn't believe I was fit enough to be the leader, but they soon thought otherwise. Whether it was my fighting or my leadership skills, I didn't know which, but something always changed everyone's minds.

And I mean everyone's.

"Yeah," Carl said, still breathless. "Where did all those dead come from?"

"Hell." Glenn muttered, and looked up when everyone's gazes turned on him, "Just being honest."

I chuckled a little, "At least he's honest. Last thing we want is a liar." Sitting down on my bike, I pulled my ankle up, examining the glass. "God damn."

"You're gonna have to pull that out..." Carl muttered.

I turned and snapped sarcastically, "Thank you, Carl!"

Daryl was leaning against a tree, chewing on the side of his thumb, a nervous habit, I now knew. "Glass door get ya, huh?"

Sighing, I pulled out my rag, wiping my ankle off. It looked like I had painted it deep red. "Yeah. Knew I shouldn't have kicked it open. Oh well," I muttered, shrugging, "Too damn late now."

Carl stepped up, looking at it. "Do you need any help? I got antibi-"

He stopped talking when I began to pull the glass out, my face contorting from the pain. I saw Glenn cover his mouth and Carl's face pale, backing away. Daryl hadn't flinched, let alone moved. The glass broke along the middle, and I swore loudly, throwing the bloody piece of glass into the woods.