The End Of All Things

Prologue

                                                                                                                  463 days P.A. (post apocalyptic)

Survivors,

There isn't much worse than loneliness. Hell, I don't think there is anything worse. Maybe, you could argue that the hunger was the worst. You are always hungry, and you are reminded that by the constant growling of your stomach. It was like ringing the dinner doorbell, a notice that told you that each day you went without food was just a day closer to your death.

Maybe, you could compare it to the silence around you. Seldom did you hear a cricket chirp, a call from a bird, or just a soft flow of water from a stream. A coo from a pigeon, crunch of leaves... No, the only things you heard had connotations of terror. A tree branch snapping, the sound of your feet slamming on the pavement or the dirt to get away, just get away as fast as you could. The groans and moans that filled your dreams and morphed them into nightmares. No, the only real thing you heard was a heartbeat-- your own. Thumping wildly in your chest as you walked around every corner, stepped over every branch, pushing away vines in your way..

That and the zombies, of course.

Maybe, you could say the zombies were the worst part. The reincarnated flesh routed to roam and ravish whatever live, breathing being it could find first. The undead army of cannibals, going about to recruit members with just a simple bite. Perhaps a deep gash would suffice, too. Whatever they were infected with, if they infected you; bite, scratch, saliva, blood.. You didn't have long left. And when they caught you?

Lord, he should have mercy on your soul.

The pain. Organ after organ of yours torn out, yanked out, for their own satisfaction, their craving. They don't stop until there is nothing left to take from you. The blood.. Oh, it was like rain, dark dark rain that gave you that reminder that you were nothing more than an afternoon snack. Your survival up to that point means nothing as soon as they get hold of you. Oh, I hope that if it happens to you it is fast.

So maybe, zombies were the worst thing. But if you ask me, I could assure you that nothing really beats loneliness. Being with somebody who has that unfortunate fate, all you can do is watch. They are gone, there is no saving them. They are gone. When you're alone out there, having the silence eat you up while you stay idle with that empty stomach of yours.. It changes you. The silence is the one that kills you in the end. Being lonely, it changes how you think. You don't care for surviving because you don't have anything to survive for. What you worked so hard to be against, you end up wanting it to happen to you. You wish you could turn. You wish they would end you.

I know. I know, because I am lonely. I do not have anybody anymore. I am lost, and I am lonely. They are gone, he is lost, she is not coming back.

I wanted them to end me. They can't end me. So they ended Annabelle instead.  

---

"Ollie. Are we close?"

 The older sibling questioned one more time, tugging at her younger sister's jacket as they trudged down the abandoned road. It was a question she commonly heard from Annabelle, which was understandable. She was a natural inquisitor, always curious, but sometimes it drove Olivia up the walls. Partially because it endangered them, the noise, but partially because she didn't know the answers, either.

"Olivia."

"I don't know, Annabelle." Olivia sighed, glancing over to her sister. Her lips were pursed as she stared at the woman who clung to her duffelbag of clothing and stray pieces of protein bars and half-empty water bottles. Her messy pigtails bounced along her back as she skipped to keep up with her. She was beautiful, resembling their father more than Olivia had. Only a few years older, with the same strawberry hair that she had. Gosh, she was beautiful, she could have made it big as a model or an actor.

Olivia would have given up anything to give her sister to have that. She assumed it was too late to do that now, though.

"Ollie." Annabelle's voice rung through her ears again, and she huffed, glancing over at Annabelle once more. "Are we going to eat soon?"

"I doubt it. Come on. I see a town sign." Olivia replied, adjusting her own pack over her shoulder. In the faint distance, if she had strained her ears hard enough, she could hear the groans of the living dead wandering aimlessly around. The sun was starting to set behind them, the sky tinted brilliant orange and pink. She would get them in shelter soon, and tomorrow.. Tomorrow was a new day.

Tomorrow, they might get food.